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‘So there’s no legal bar to us getting married. Good. So do you want a church wedding or a civil wedding?’
‘I’m divorced,’ she reminded him. ‘I can’t marry in church.’
‘You could still have a blessing, if you want one.’
‘Civil’s fine. And something quiet, Alex. Not a media circus.’
‘It won’t be a media circus,’ he promised. ‘So the mums and Saskia are coming to help you find a wedding dress, next weekend?’
‘Yes.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘But this is all happening so fast.’
‘Relax. We have three weeks. And whatever I say about loathing admin, I’m actually quite good at organising things. I’m not going to skimp any of the little details—or anything major, come to that.’ He gave her a sidelong look. ‘So I take it you’re not going for the meringue dress?’
‘Been there, done that.’
‘That’s a no, then.’ He paused. ‘Tell you what would look good. A little shift dress—you know, like the one Audrey Hepburn wears in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.’
‘A black wedding dress?’
‘No.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I was talking shape, not colour. White would be good, because it would go with your flame-coloured veil.’
‘What flame-coloured …’ She groaned. ‘Oh, no. Saskia put the idea in your head. We’re not having a Roman wedding and I’m not wearing a flame-coloured veil.’
He pursed his lips. ‘It’d look stunning in the photographs.’
‘Alex!’
He laughed. ‘All right, all right. I’ll leave the dress up to you. But just remember the mums and my sister will all be sworn to absolute secrecy about the finer details, so when you go shopping there’s no point in even asking them what I’m planning.’
‘You’re impossible.’
‘If what I have in mind is doable, you’re going to enjoy it, I promise you that much.’
She was silent for a while, and he was aware of her fidgeting next to him.
‘All right. What now?’
‘Nothing.’
He sighed. ‘Bel, don’t pull that girly stuff on me. What’s the matter?’
‘Are you at least going to tell me where we’re going on holiday?’
He noted her choice of word: holiday, not honeymoon. Good. So she wasn’t about to go sentimental on him. ‘Nope.’
‘So how do I know what to pack? Or if I need any vaccinations?’
‘You don’t need any vaccinations—and we’re not going anywhere that involves mosquitoes or even the tiniest possibility of malaria. As for packing … wear what you want.’
She sighed. ‘Will you at least tell me if it’s going to be cold or hot?’
‘Better than that. I’ll pack for you.’
She growled in frustration. ‘I hate you.’
‘No, you don’t. Just humour me, Bel. I want to do something nice for you—and I like giving surprises.’
‘I don’t like receiving surprises.’
‘Because you’re a control freak,’ he teased.
‘I’m not. You’re a steamroller.’
‘Insulting me isn’t going to make any difference. I’m still not going to tell you anything.’ He chuckled. ‘Though you could try seducing it out of me.’
‘Maybe I’ll do a Lysistrata on you,’ she fenced.
He got the reference to the ancient Greek play immediately. ‘Go on a sex strike? You can try, honey.’ His luck was in, because there was a lay-by ahead. He signalled, parked the car, then removed his seat belt. ‘But that’s not going to work.’
‘Oh, really?’ She lifted her chin at the challenge.
‘Really. Let me show you why.’ He undid her seat belt, yanked her into his arms, and kissed her. Teasing, nibbling kisses along her lower lip until she gave in and opened her mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. He slid one hand underneath her top, stroking her skin in the way he knew she liked; she slid her arms round his neck and drew him closer.
He moved one hand up to cup her breast, rubbing the pad of his thumb against her hardening nipple through the lace of her bra, then broke the kiss.
‘That,’ he said softly, ‘is why a sex strike wouldn’t work. Because it’s good between us, and your body knows it. Right now, your nipples are hard, just as right now I’m hard for you and I really, really want to be inside you.’
Her cheeks flamed. ‘So you’re saying I’m easy?’
‘No. Just that it’s good between us.’ He stroked her face. ‘And if it makes you feel any better, I’m not going to be very comfortable while I’m driving us home. Right now, I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to carry you out of the car, lay you down on the nice soft grass and wrap your legs round my waist.’
She shivered, and he knew she wanted it, too.
‘But as having sex in public could get us arrested, I’ll go for option two.’
‘Which is?’
‘To drive home as fast as possible without getting a speeding fine. And then I’m going to take all your clothes off. And then …’ He gave her a wicked grin. ‘Then I’m going to make you beg.’
She scoffed. ‘In your dreams, big boy.’
He kissed her again. ‘No, honey. In ours.’
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_7a482066-3d77-54d1-842b-c8f6a8a58546)
THE next week simply flew by. Isobel was really busy at work; so she had to admit that no way would she have had the time to organise the wedding herself, or even help Alex much.
But by Friday night she knew she had to talk to him. Before she went shopping for a wedding dress. Before things went too far. Because once he knew the truth, he might change his mind about getting married.
As she walked up the steps to her flat, her feet felt like lead. This was a conversation she really didn’t want to have. But if she didn’t speak up now and things went pear-shaped in the future, Alex would never forgive her for lying to him.
One of the reasons he’d reacted so badly to Dorinda’s betrayal was that she’d lied and cheated.
Right now, she was no better. She could be cheating him out of a future.
And hadn’t Alex himself said that their marriage would work because they’d never lie to each other?
When she reached the front door, she dragged in a breath. Nerved herself. And walked indoors to face Alex.
‘Hi.’ He looked up from his laptop and smiled at her. ‘How was your day?’
‘Fine.’ Lord, how she wanted to back out of this right now. To pretend that nothing was wrong. But she couldn’t do that to him. ‘Alex, we need to talk. I need to tell you something.’ Forestalling his interruption, she held up a hand. ‘There’s no easy way to say it, so I’m going to just come out with it. And I don’t want you saying a word until I’ve finished, OK?’
He frowned, but nodded. ‘Hit me with it.’
‘It’s why Gary and I split up. And I’ll understand if you want to walk away now.’ She closed her eyes, unable to bear looking at him and seeing the pity in his face. ‘We … we tried to start a family. Except I lost the baby. Both times. And…’ she gulped ‘… you said you maybe wanted a family. I might not be able to give you that.’
He was silent.
Just as she’d expected.
And now he was going to walk away. Just as Gary had.
She dragged in a breath, still with her eyes closed—and the next thing she knew, she was in Alex’s arms and he was holding her really, really tightly.
‘Alex? What …’
‘I agreed not to say a word until you’d finished,’ he reminded her.
‘I—I’ve f-finished now.’ To her horror, her voice was actually wobbly.
‘Oh, Bel. I had no idea you’d been through something like this. I’m so sorry.’
Sorry, because he didn’t want to marry her any more?
But then why were his arms still round her? Why was he still holding her close to him, as if she were the most precious thing in the world? This was Alex—the man who didn’t even believe in love.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, ‘that you had to go through something so heartbreaking. I just assumed that he wanted kids and you didn’t, because you’ve always been so dedicated to your job.’
She swallowed hard. ‘I wanted a baby. I wanted a baby so much, Alex. And when Gary and I couldn’t …’ She closed her eyes again. ‘When he left me, I thought I’d never have another chance to have a child of my own. I’ve tried so hard to suppress it—so hard to make my job, my life, be enough for me. And it’s got worse since Saskia had Flora. Every time I hold my god-daughter …’ The wave of longing was so strong, she could hardly breathe. ‘I never thought I’d be the broody type, but it doesn’t seem I have a choice in the matter. It’s her weight, the perfect size to cradle in my arms, her warmth, that new baby smell. Everything.’
‘So what happened? Did the doctors say why you miscarried?’
‘Just that it’s really common before twelve weeks. It happens to lots and lots of women.’
‘Did they do any tests?’
The question hurt, but his voice was so gentle. No judgement. No blame. ‘They don’t even consider looking into the causes until you’ve had at least three miscarriages.’ And that was the worst part. She tried to swallow the tears. ‘Gary didn’t want to take the chance of losing a third baby. And I guess I was a becoming a bit difficult to live with.’
‘What?’ Alex shook his head, as if trying to clear it. ‘Are you telling me he walked out on you, and said it was your fault?’
‘I …’ She let her head rest against his shoulder. ‘Yes,’ she admitted brokenly.
‘Right at this moment, I’d like to break every bone on his body, then peg him out in the desert in Turkey, smear him in honey and leave him to the ants.’
Isobel pulled back and stared at Alex in shock. She’d never, ever heard him sound angry like this before. Coldly, viciously angry.
‘But that’s not going to change the past—or the fact he hurt you. That he let you down when you needed him.’ Still keeping one arm wrapped round her, he stroked her cheek. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. You want a baby.’
She dragged in a breath. ‘Yes.’
‘You helped me get what I want, Bel, so I’m going to do the same for you. After we get married, we’re going to try for a baby.’
‘But what if …’ She couldn’t bring herself to ask the rest of the question.
But he seemed to guess what she couldn’t say. ‘We’ll see how things go. And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll talk to the doctors. Get tests. Find out what the problem is and see what our options are.’
She swallowed hard. ‘I’m the problem.’
‘And how do you work that out?’
‘Gary has a baby now. So it can’t be him, can it?’
Alex smoothed the hair off her face. ‘I’m not a medic and I don’t know anywhere near enough about miscarriages to give an informed opinion. But things are never that clear-cut, Bel. Don’t blame yourself.’
She made a noncommittal murmur.
‘Seriously, Bel. Don’t blame yourself.’ He paused. ‘When you told me about Gary’s new partner and the baby, I thought you were upset because you were still in love with him.’
She shook her head. ‘My love for him died a long time ago. I don’t envy her because she has him. It’s because …’ Because of the baby. The baby she’d wanted so much herself. She paused. ‘Look, I understand if you want to call the wedding off.’
His eyes glittered. ‘Two weeks tomorrow, Isobel Martin, we’re getting married. And we’re going on honeymoon. And we’re going to make a family of our own.’
The tears she’d been trying so hard to hold back were suddenly too much for her. She could feel her eyes brimming, feel the wetness leaking down her face even though she tried to stop it.
With the pad of his thumb, Alex wiped the tears away. ‘This doesn’t change anything about our marriage, Bel. It just proves I’m right about love. It lets you down.’ He dipped his head to kiss her very lightly on the mouth. Gentle and unthreatening. ‘But I’m not going to let you down. That’s a promise.’
And Alex was the kind of man who always kept his promises.
‘Come on. Give me a smile,’ he coaxed.
She tried. And failed.
He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. ‘I think you need food. Though I can’t cook because there’s nothing in the fridge. I’d planned to take you out to dinner, tonight.’
‘Alex, that’s lovely of you, but I’m really not hungry.’ Right then she felt as if food would choke her. And after baring her soul to Alex, she felt too raw, too exposed even to go out of the flat.
He stroked her cheek. ‘OK. I understand. So let’s stay in.’ He stroked her hair. ‘What I want to do right now is hold you close—just you and me, skin to skin. I’m not going to lie to you, Bel. I can’t promise that I’m going to make everything all right for you—but I can promise that I’m going to try my hardest.’
