on his lap and slipped her hand under the fold of the bathrobe.
‘You should keep some clothes here.’
‘Why? You won’t be here much longer.’ The feel of her fingers splayed on his chest was doing decidedly pleasant things to other parts of his body.
On this front, at least, Alex was assured of her power over him, temporary though it might be. Just so long as he desired her, he would not have eyes for anyone else. Gabriel, if nothing else, was a one woman man.
‘True,’ she conceded. ‘I’ll break the news to my folks tomorrow.’
‘And we can make this legal by the end of next week.’
‘Why so soon?’
Good question, Gabriel thought. She wasn’t the blushing bride with his baby inside her, rushing down the aisle to seal the deal before the baby was born.
‘Why not?’ he answered smoothly. ‘I’m not someone who enjoys delay once I’m committed in a certain direction. Besides, the faster you leave this dump, the better for all concerned.’
‘We could just move in with you and take it slowly until we find our feet.’
‘No can do.’ Gabriel was a little disconcerted at just how much he really didn’t want that outcome.
‘Oh. Forgot. Demands of tradition.’
‘That’s right. Demands of tradition. Not that you won’t be moving in with me as soon as possible. In fact, I can arrange for everything to be completed by tomorrow evening.’
‘There you go. Not consulting me again.’
‘Do you ever agree to anything without putting up a fight?’ He shifted her, settling her comfortably on his hard body, letting her know how much he wanted her.
‘Would you prefer me to be grateful and submissive?’
‘Is that a serious question?’
Alex realised that it was and she was strangely relieved when he said, with an amused smile, ‘If you were grateful and submissive, I wouldn’t know what had hit me. I would have to take you to a doctor to get you checked over.’
‘I find gratitude and submission hard to do,’ she conceded truthfully. ‘I bet Cristobel was grateful and submissive.’ She could have kicked herself for bringing that contentious subject to the table.
‘She was…obedient. I’ve since discovered that obedience is not all that it’s made out to be when it comes to women. Not enough of a challenge.’
Alex was busily wondering whether being described as challenging was a good thing or a bad thing when Gabriel interrupted her furious musings.
‘And, while we’re on the subject of rules and conditions, I have a few of my own…’
‘Am I going to like them?’ she asked cautiously. She gasped as his hand found her breast and he played with it, rolling his finger over her erect nipple and sending shivers of excitement through her.
‘First of all, you’re going to have to dress the part of my wife.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Deadly serious.’
Alex envisaged smart designer wear and diamonds the size of eggs on her fingers and shuddered. She had seen Cristobel in action. An advert for everything money could possibly buy. The woman had dripped jewellery and screamed designer. Every inch of her had been polished, buffed and preened to expensive perfection.
‘I can’t.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? Can I remind you of the compromise conversation you insisted on having earlier?’
‘I can’t turn into a decorative Christmas bauble for your benefit, Gabriel.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Bejewelled up to the eyeballs…long red talons for nails…big coiffured hair, lacquered to within an inch of its miserable life…’
Gabriel threw back his head and laughed and he laughed even harder when he saw her frowning, disdainful expression. Of one thing he was in no doubt—Alex was not impressed by his vast wealth. In fact, he would have wagered his soul that if she had met him all those years ago and had known the vast legacy that was his birthright, she would have turned on her rubber-soled trainers and stomped off.
‘I haven’t got sufficient imagination to picture you…What was it…? Bejewelled up to the eyeballs…? With long red nails and big hair…?’
‘I’ve seen your ex-fiancée in action,’ Alex retorted tartly. ‘And I’m not going blonde either. I never held with the myth that they have more fun.’
‘I’d never ask you to go blonde. And, before you launch into another wild interpretation of what I want, all I’m saying is that when you’re my wife…no, let’s just say from the second you set foot out of the house tomorrow…no revealing clothes. No tight dresses, no handkerchiefs for skirts…’ He wasn’t sure when it had hit him that he didn’t want other men ogling