Taken by the Millionaire: Hotly Bedded, Conveniently Wedded

He was ad-libbing, Isobel knew. But his knowledge of the historical period was sound and he was used to performing to a TV camera or lecturing at conferences, so their audience would no doubt think he’d played this role for years.

‘One of the important customs in Roman times was betrothal. If I wanted to get married, I’d have to negotiate with my intended bride’s family. And if they approved of me, we’d have a betrothal ceremony.’ He produced something from inside his robe; it glittered in the light. ‘The Roman wedding ring used to be made of iron in the early period, but betrothal rings like this one could be more opulent.’ He let the audience pass it round, then made sure he got it back. ‘Now, what did you notice about it?’

‘It’s gold and shiny,’ one little girl piped up.

He smiled. ‘Absolutely right. It’s a new one, so my bride’s parents will know that I’m wealthy enough to buy her jewellery and I haven’t just borrowed it from my mum. Anyone else notice anything?’

‘There’s a pattern on it,’ another child offered.

‘That’s right.’ He smiled at Isobel, then showed the audience the pattern on the front. ‘What sort of pattern?’

‘Two hands,’ one of the children said.

‘It’s a claddagh ring,’ one of the mums offered.

‘Not quite a claddagh—though that also has two clasped hands, it usually has a heart between them to represent true love, and a crown or fleur-de-lys carved over the top for loyalty,’ Alex explained. ‘There’s a very pretty story behind that—about three hundred years ago, a fisherman from Claddagh in Ireland was captured by Spanish pirates and sold into slavery. His new master taught him how to be a goldsmith, and every day he stole a speck of gold from the floor and after many years he had enough to make a ring to remind him of his sweetheart back in Claddagh. Eventually he escaped and made his way home—to find that his sweetheart was still waiting for him. And he gave her the ring to prove his love.’

Oh, Lord. She could practically see various hearts melting right before him. He definitely had this audience in the palm of his hand. Half the women in the audience were clearly imagining that he was the Irish fisherman about to give her a gold ring.

And Alex was on a roll.

‘This is actually a replica of a Roman betrothal ring, and the hand clasped at the wrist represents Concordia, the goddess of agreement,’ he said. ‘But, as with the claddagh ring, the design also symbolises love and fidelity. It’s sometimes called a “fedes” ring.’ He smiled. ‘Does anyone know why an engagement ring is put on the third finger?’

A chorus of no—and now practically all the women in the audience were gazing longingly at Alex, Isobel noticed. Hardly surprising: in a toga and sandals, he looked fantastic.

He lifted Isobel’s left hand and stroked his fingertip along the length of her ring finger. ‘The Romans followed the Egyptian belief that there was a vein in this finger that led straight to the heart, so it was important to capture it within a ring—a symbol of unbroken eternity.’ He slid the ring onto Isobel’s finger. ‘Like so.’

A shiver went down her spine. He was acting … wasn’t he?

‘Aren’t you the guy from the telly?’ one of the women asked. ‘You did that programme on Egypt last year. The Hunter’

‘Uh, yes,’ Alex said.

‘So you work here now?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘No. My fiancée does.’ He draped one arm around Isobel’s shoulders. ‘I just hijacked her exhibition. But that’s how people got engaged in Roman times—exactly as we got engaged just now.’ He took Isobel’s left hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Sorry about that, Bel. I mean, Flavia.’

‘He’s … I …’ Isobel squirmed. ‘Sorry, everyone. This wasn’t planned. And he isn’t supposed to be here.’

‘Don’t worry, she’s not going to get into trouble,’ Alex said in a stage whisper. ‘I talked to her boss first.’

He’d talked to her boss? What? When?

‘Oh, that’s so romantic,’ another of the women said, sighing. ‘To surprise you at work like that.’

‘Given what she does for a living, I couldn’t really do anything else,’ Alex said. ‘And if you’ll excuse us, Flavia has finished work for today.’

‘Alex, I—’ she began.

‘Shh.’ He placed his finger on her lips. ‘I cleared it with your boss. Thank you, everyone, for being our witnesses today in a genuine Roman betrothal ceremony.’

Everyone started clapping and calling out their congratulations. Alex smiled back, then simply picked up all the elements of Isobel’s display, took her hand, and shepherded her out of the gallery.

‘Alex, I can’t believe you just did that!’ she said in a low voice.

‘Stop worrying. I really did clear it with your boss. Rita also let me borrow the outfit—which I need to return, so let’s go and change.’

‘You borrowed the senator’s outfit?’

‘I wanted to surprise you,’ he said with a grin.

‘You did that, all right. I thought you were in the interview this afternoon?’

‘I was.’

‘And you were going to text me to let me know how it went.’

He shrugged. ‘I decided to come and tell you in person.’

‘So did you get the job?’

‘This morning, you were very confident in my abilities.’ He tutted. ‘Clearly I’ll have to take you home and remind you just how able I am.’

‘Alex,’ she said warningly, ‘if you don’t tell me right now, I’ll stab you with these tweezers. They might be replicas, but they’ll hurt.’

He laughed. ‘Yes. I got the job. And I’m taking you out to dinner to celebrate—that, and our engagement.’

‘Our engagement?’ She glanced at the ring. ‘I thought you were … I dunno … hamming it up.’

‘No. You just got engaged to me, Bel. In public, so you can’t back out—and, besides, we’re meant to be seeing the parents at the weekend. They’re expecting to see a ring.’ His eyes glittered. ‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s gorgeous. And it’s a perfect fit—but how did you know my size?’

‘Give me some credit for resourcefulness.’

‘No, I want to know.’

‘While you were in the shower a few days ago, I borrowed one of your rings and drew round it. I took the drawing to the jeweller’s and asked them to size it for me—and I gave them a photograph of exactly what I wanted them to make for me. I picked it up on the way here. It’s eighteen-carat so it’s more durable.’ He paused. ‘I know it’s not exactly a modern engagement ring, but I thought this was more you.’ He smiled at her. ‘Though if you want a diamond, that’s fine—we can go shopping for one whenever you like.’

‘No. This is perfect.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t quite believe this just happened. You borrowed the senator’s robes and hijacked my show—’

‘With factually correct information,’ he cut in.

‘Skimpy, but I suppose it’ll do.’

‘Skimpy?’ He scoffed, then bent his head to whisper in her ear, ‘But, seeing as you brought it up … skimpy can be good. Are you dressed completely as a Roman woman?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Because, if you are, then I know you’re not wearing very much underneath that robe. And in that case I sincerely hope your office has a blind at the window and a lock on the door.’

‘It’s open plan.’

‘Pity.’ He nibbled her ear lobe. ‘Looks as if we’ll have to go home before dinner…’

CHAPTER SIX

WHEN Isobel walked into the office, she was surprised to see a large card propped up in the middle of her desk along with a beautiful bouquet of flowers; the card attached to the flowers made tears well up in her eyes when she read it. ‘Isobel and Alex. Congratulations and much love.’ It was from the whole department—and they could only have known about this a few minutes ago. Someone must have organised a collection at record speed and gone straight out to buy the flowers even as Alex had been striding towards her in his toga.

‘Congratulations, Bel.’ Rita, Isobel’s boss, came over to her and hugged her. ‘I’m so pleased for you, love.’

‘Though you kept it very quiet,’ Siobhan, the department secretary, said. ‘I thought you two were just good friends?’

‘Not any more,’ Alex said, smiling back at her and draping his arm round Isobel’s shoulders.

‘Let’s see the ring.’ Rita looked at it, then nodded her approval at Alex. ‘It’s lovely. And very much our Isobel.’ She smiled at Isobel again. ‘And don’t you dare sneak off and get married in secret, do you hear?’

‘We won’t,’ Alex promised with a smile. ‘In fact, I want to have a chat with you about that.’

Isobel could guess exactly where this was heading. ‘No, Alex, we’re not having a Roman wedding in the middle of the Roman gallery. Apart from the fact it’s not licensed for weddings … No.’

‘Spoilsport,’ Alex grumbled, but he was laughing. ‘Rita, I know it’s a bit of a cheek, but would you mind if I sweep my new fiancée off for dinner right now rather than waiting until the end of her shift? We’ve got a few things to celebrate.’

Rita smiled broadly. ‘It’s not every day someone gets engaged around here. Of course I don’t mind. Shoo. Go and have fun.’

‘I’ll stay late tomorrow night to make up the time,’ Isobel offered.

‘No need, love. Apart from the fact that you already put in more hours than you should, I believe a happy staff is a productive staff.’ Rita smiled. ‘Though you two might want to change back into normal clothes before you leave the building.’

‘We’d turn a few heads, dressed like this,’ Alex agreed, laughing.

By the time Isobel had changed, Alex had ordered a taxi, which was waiting outside for them.

‘That’s so extravagant,’ she said.

‘It’s also much easier than carrying a bouquet on the tube in the rush hour,’ he pointed out as he opened the taxi door for her, then placed the flowers on her lap before climbing in beside her.

‘I can’t believe they managed to do all this between you asking Rita if you could hijack my display, and you taking me back to my office.’

‘Everyone likes you, Bel,’ he said simply. ‘Of course they’d want to do something for you—and not wait until tomorrow, either.’

She opened the card. ‘Everyone in the department’s signed the card. Look at all these messages wishing us luck and so much happiness together.’ She blinked back the threatening tears. ‘This is all wrong. I feel such a fake, Alex.’

‘You’re not a fake. And it’s not wrong. We’ve been through this, Bel. This marriage is going to work, because we’re very, very good friends.’ He moved slightly closer, and whispered, ‘Plus we’re having great sex. Which in my book is a million times better than falling in love and being as miserable as hell.’

She frowned. ‘What happened, Alex? Who was she?’

‘Who?’

‘The woman who made you so bitter about love.’

He shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘She must’ve hurt you a lot,’ Isobel said softly, curling her fingers round his, ‘for you to avoid a relationship for all these years.’ She couldn’t even remember him bringing anyone back to meet his parents.

‘As I said, it was a long time ago.’

‘And if you’re still hurting …’

‘I’m not. I’m over it.’ Alex sighed. ‘All right. If you have to know the gory details, I was working on my PhD. I was on a dig down on the south coast, and Dorinda lived in the next village. Like most of the locals, she’d come to take a look at what we were doing at the dig. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen—glamorous, with all that long dark hair and legs that went on for ever.’

So that was why he always dated stick-insect brunettes. Because he was looking for another Dorinda. Right at that moment, Isobel wished she’d never asked.

But Alex was still talking.

‘I was a geeky student who still practically had teenage spots, and I thought she was way out of my reach. But then I found out that she liked me, too.’

Geeky?

Alex had never been geeky, as far as she could remember.

Or covered in spots.

‘We had a drink together, and it snowballed from there into a mad summer affair. I spent every second with her I could. And, yeah, a lot of it was in bed.’ His expression turned grim. ‘She told me she was divorced, or I would never have started seeing her.’

Isobel believed him. Alex had a strong code of honour.

‘I was actually planning to ask her to marry me. I hadn’t got as far as choosing a ring and working out a romantic place to propose, but I was close to it. But then her husband came back. It turned out I was just a diversion because she was bored.’ His smile was tinged with bitterness. ‘I was twenty-two, remember. Still didn’t have a clue how the world worked. And would you believe I was actually stupid enough to say to her that I’d thought she loved me? She just laughed and asked me why on earth she’d want to go off with a student who had no money and no prospects of having any, when her husband was practically a millionaire.’

‘Sounds as if you had a lucky escape.’ She tightened her fingers round his again. ‘Alex, she wasn’t worth it. And if you’ve been hurting all these years over her …’

‘I haven’t been brooding on it, exactly. But it left a nasty taste in my mouth.’ He grimaced. ‘She’d cheated on her husband with me. She’d lied to us both, played us both for a fool. And I hated the fact that she’d used me to hurt someone else.’

‘Not everyone’s like that.’

‘I know. But her husband was away for long periods—just like I was. So it made me stop and think. Supposing I’d got married and left my wife on her own all the time…’

‘Your wife wouldn’t necessarily have cheated on you.’

‘Maybe not intentionally, Bel. But these things happen. With me being away so much, she would’ve been lonely. Vulnerable. An easy target for anyone who showed her the affection she wasn’t getting from me because I wasn’t there. And I didn’t want to take that kind of risk. It was easier to stay single and keep my relationships short and sweet—and to focus on my job.’

‘You’re still going to be away a lot with this job. So do you think I’m going to be unfaithful to you?’ she asked.

‘Of course I don’t.’ His eyes glittered. ‘Apart from the fact that you’re not a liar or a cheat, we’re not going into this all hormonally charged and with rose-coloured glasses on and declaring all the hearts and flowers stuff. And I hope you know that I won’t be unfaithful to you, either.’

‘This feels more like a business arrangement than a marriage.’

‘It’s not a business arrangement. It’s a sensible arrangement,’ Alex said as the taxi pulled up outside her flat. ‘And you and I will never lie to each other, so it’s going to work out just fine.’

Guilt flooded through her. Lies didn’t have to be direct; lies could also be caused by omission. And she was keeping something important from him.

She really had to tell him.

Soon.

He paid the driver, then let them in—almost, she thought, as if he’d lived there for ever and wasn’t just using her spare set of keys. ‘I need to get changed,’ he said.

‘You look good in a suit.’

‘But I hate wearing it. It makes me feel … ‘he clenched his fists and paced up and down the room ‘… “cabin’d, cribb’d, confin’d.”’

‘Ooh, get the drama king,’ she teased. ‘Though you’re more of an Antony than a Macbeth.’

‘What, an ageing roué whose brains are in his trousers?’ He pulled a face. ‘Which makes you a middle-aged tart who doesn’t have the courage of her convictions—and takes a whole act to die, while talking about making the briefest end.’

‘Oi! I like that play,’ she protested.

He smiled. ‘Next time it’s on at the Globe, we’ll go. But before you dive for the what’s on listings, I really need to wash my hair.’

She laughed. ‘You’re being prissy about your hair? Don’t tell me you’re planning to get a haircut, now you’re officially a consultant.’

‘Am I, hell,’ he scoffed. ‘My hair’s fine as it is. Well, when it’s not oiled back so I can fake a Roman haircut.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Hey, you didn’t happen to bring that strigil home from your Roman beauty kit, did you?’

‘No,’ she said, guessing what he had in mind, ‘and I’m sure you wouldn’t like traditional Roman hygiene.’

‘I dunno.’ His eyes glittered. ‘I quite like the idea of sauntering into a caldarium and having you scrape me off with a strigil.’

She laughed. ‘Alex. You’re impossible.’

‘Who, me?’ he deadpanned. ‘Look, I don’t want to get olive oil all over this suit, so would you mind giving me a hand undressing?’

‘That has to be the most trumped-up excuse I’ve ever heard.’

‘I thought it was quite a good one, actually.’ He gave her a wicked smile. ‘Come and have a shower with me.’

‘Now there’s an offer,’ she said, rolling her eyes. But she slid his jacket from his shoulders and hung it over the back of a chair. He hadn’t put his tie back on when he’d changed out of the toga, and he looked incredibly sexy in dark trousers and a white shirt with the top button undone.

She unbuttoned his shirt, and ran her hands lightly over his chest. ‘Mmm. The barbarian look. I like it.’

‘Do you, now?’ Alex’s response was to make short work of her clothes and the remainder of his own; then he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom.

Isobel laughed. ‘You really are a barbarian, Alex.’

‘Just living up to your view of me.’ He set her on her feet in the bath, stepped in next to her, and switched the water on.

Isobel shrieked. ‘That’s cold!’

‘Don’t be a baby.’ He grabbed the shower gel. ‘All righty—you’re Flavia the patrician matron and I’m your barbarian slave.’

She laughed. ‘Shouldn’t you have scented oil and a strigil if you’re my barbarian slave?’

‘This is much more civilised,’ he said loftily.

‘You? Civilised?’

‘I can be.’ He gave her a lascivious wink, then poured shower gel into his palms, lathered it, and glided his fingers over her skin. ‘Mmm. Bel. Your skin feels nice. Turn round.’

She did so, and he lathered her shoulders and her back, then drew her back against his body. She could feel his erection pressing against her; then he fanned his fingers across her abdomen and then stroked gently upwards until he could cup her breasts.

‘Better still,’ he whispered, kissing the curve of her neck as his thumbs and forefingers played with her nipples.

She wriggled against him. ‘Barbarian.’

He nibbled her earlobe. ‘At your command, my lady.’

She turned round again to face him. ‘I don’t think you’d be at anyone’s command except your own, Alex.’

He kissed her lightly. ‘You could command me to make love with you. I’d obey you.’

She slid her fingers down to grasp his erection. ‘Only because it’s what you want to do.’

‘It’s a win-win situation, Bel. Apart from the fact that you’ve turned round, which means we switch roles,’ he added with a grin.

‘We do?’

‘Uh-huh. You have to obey me, because I’m the patrician now.’

She gave him a wicked grin. ‘But you look like a barbarian. I’ll just get the tweezers to sort you out, my Lord.’

‘Don’t you dare.’ He lifted her up and pinned her against the tiles.

She yelped. ‘Alex, that’s freezing!’

‘I’ll warm you up, then.’ He kissed her hard, his mouth urgent against hers. Her hands were locked round his neck, holding him close, and he’d moved so he could push one hand between her thighs, stroking her and teasing her until she was quivering.

‘Now?’ he asked softly.

‘N-now.’ She could barely speak, she was so turned on.

He lifted her slightly so he could fit the tip of his penis against the entrance of her sex, then slowly pushed into her.

‘Alex,’ she whispered, and jammed her mouth over his.

The water was pouring over them and Isobel was so aware of every single movement Alex made—the slow, deliberate thrusts as he brought her nearer and nearer to the edge, the way his body fitted hers perfectly—and she knew the exact second his self-control snapped and his body surged into hers. Although her eyes were tightly closed, she could see starbursts; and all she could do was hold on tightly to Alex as her climax rocked through her.

Finally, he eased out of her and set her on her feet. ‘Um. When did the hot water run out?’

‘No idea,’ she said.

‘Sorry.’

And he really did look contrite. She smiled. ‘I’m not.’ She reached up and touched his hair. ‘Except for this. You still need to get rid of that olive oil. I’ll go and boil the kettle so you’ve got some hot water to do your hair.’

‘Thanks. I wouldn’t want to look a total scruff when I take you out to dinner.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you telling me you’re going to wear your suit again tonight?’

‘No. Suits are overrated.’ He kissed her again. ‘I’m not wearing a tie, either.’

But by the time she’d dried her hair and he’d dressed, she had to admit he looked good. Black trousers and a turquoise silk shirt that, on Alex, just heightened his raw masculinity.

‘You scrub up rather nicely—for a barbarian.’

‘Watch it, or the hat goes on,’ he teased back. ‘Come on, beautiful. Let’s go celebrate my new job—and our engagement.’

The endearment warmed her. Alex thought her beautiful?

Probably just a figure of speech.

But she was glad he’d made the effort.

And she was starting to believe that he was right. This was going to work out just fine.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ON SUNDAY, Alex drove Isobel to the little market town in the Cotswolds where they’d grown up. They’d arranged to meet their parents at the local hotel, along with Alex’s sister Saskia and her husband Bryn and baby Flora. Alex’s twin sisters, Helen and Polly, were both away for the weekend, but he’d said wryly that their parents wouldn’t wait any longer for them to turn up as an engaged couple—if they didn’t go to the Cotswolds, their families would come straight to London and besiege the flat.

The second they walked into the dining room, their respective mothers spotted them and started waving. And it was a good ten minutes before the hugs and the congratulations and the official inspection of the engagement ring were over.

‘What a welcome,’ Isobel said, smiling as she sat down.

‘Well, of course! This is a celebration. It’s not every day my daughter gets engaged.’ Stuart made what was clearly a pre-arranged signal to the waiter, who immediately brought over champagne.

‘Getting engaged to the boy next door after all these years. It’s so romantic,’ Marcia said, smiling at them.

Saskia rolled her eyes. ‘This is Alex we’re talking about, Mum. Your son doesn’t do romance.’

‘Of course I do,’ Alex protested.

No, he didn’t, Isobel thought. But they were meant to be putting on a show for their parents, so she didn’t correct him.

He nudged her. ‘Bel, tell them how we got engaged.’

She smiled. ‘He hijacked my talk on Roman beauty—came strutting up in a toga, told everyone all about betrothal customs, and then put the ring on my finger.’

‘You got engaged in the museum?’ Anna asked.

‘It was romantic,’ Alex protested.

‘That’s so you, Alex,’ Marcia said ruefully.

‘And so Isobel, too,’ Anna added, laughing. ‘You’ve got a rival for my daughter’s affections in her job, you know, Alex.’

He laughed. ‘You could say the same about me. But we’ll put each other first, won’t we, Bel?’

‘Of course,’ she chipped in.

‘So you bought her a Roman betrothal ring and you had a Roman engagement.’ Saskia raised an eyebrow. ‘Does this mean you’re going to have a Roman wedding, too?’

Isobel groaned. ‘Don’t encourage him, Saskia.’

‘No. It’ll be an ordinary civil wedding,’ Alex said. ‘Close family only. As in you lot plus Helen and Polly and their husbands and the boys.’

‘Well, congratulations,’ Stuart said, raising his glass. ‘And welcome to the family, Alex.’

‘Thank you,’ Alex said, smiling.