life just seemed to get better and better. Alex was right about an affair not affecting their friendship; he still talked to her as much, argued with her and teased her. But at the same time their love-making gave an added dimension to their relationship. One Isobel hadn’t expected. She couldn’t remember being this happy before, even in the early days with Gary—in the days before they’d tried for a family. Before Gary had accused her of putting her job before their baby, the last time she’d miscarried. An accusation that was so far beyond unfair, it was untrue. She’d wanted a baby just as much as he had. And if the midwife had put her on bedrest for her entire pregnancy, she would’ve done it for the sake of their child.
She shook herself.
Not now.
Though now she’d agreed to marry Alex, the question of babies rose uppermost in her mind. He’d been so casual about it, saying that if it happened, it happened, and he’d be guided by her. But when she told him just how much she wanted a baby, would it make him run?
And there were no guarantees she could even have a baby.
Then there was his new job. Although he was based in England, it would still involve a fair amount of travelling. So his lifestyle wasn’t really going to fit in with being a dad.
She needed to talk to him about this. Before the engagement and wedding plans went too far. It was just a matter of finding the right time.
The following Thursday morning, Alex was not only up at the crack of dawn, he was wearing a suit.
Isobel blinked. ‘Blimey. You really are trying to impress the interviewers.’
‘No. I’m giving them a chance to see me as a consultant,’ he corrected. ‘Someone who can talk to the money people—they already know I can do the other side of the job.’
‘The last time I saw you in a suit, it was Flora’s christening.’
‘It’s the same suit,’ he said with a grin. ‘I only possess one. And it usually gets dragged out for just christenings and weddings.’
‘Uh-huh. Well, you look professional. Just check your pockets for confetti.’
‘Good point.’ He checked his pockets. ‘No confetti.’
‘Good.’ She kissed him lightly. ‘And I’m buying you dinner tonight to celebrate.’
‘You really think I’m going to get the job?’
‘Of course I do. You’re the best candidate.’
‘You don’t actually know any of the other candidates,’ he pointed out.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t need to.’
He smiled. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. So what are you doing today?’
‘Being Flavia.’
He laughed. ‘You love all that dressing-up stuff, don’t you? It’s just like when you and Saskia were little—pretending to be a princess or a bride or what have you.’
‘Don’t knock it,’ she said with a grin. ‘It’s a lot of fun. I know you proper archaeologists have a bit of a downer on living history, but it gets the kids interested, and that’s a good thing.’
‘Living history’s OK as long as you’re not too earnest about it.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘And you know exactly what I mean. So what’s today’s topic? Roman food?’
‘Domestic stuff. Beauty,’ she said.
‘Mmm. Well, if you need someone to oil you and get the strigil out…’
She laughed. ‘Don’t you dare. You’ll mess up your suit.’ She paused. ‘Will you know today?’
He nodded. ‘Assessments this morning and then interviews, and then they’ll tell us.’
‘Text me when you hear?’
‘Course I will.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better go. See you tonight.’
‘I’m not going to wish you luck. Just go and be yourself. That’ll be more than enough to get you the job.’
‘Especially as I’m a nice, settled, about-to-be-married man.’ He kissed her. ‘Thanks, Bel. I owe you.’
She patted his shoulder. ‘Go and show them what you’re made of.’
When he’d gone, Isobel tidied up the kitchen and then headed for work. Although she normally loved the days when she did the hands-on displays, today she found herself itching for her lunch break so she could check her mobile phone.
But there was no message from Alex. He must still be in the interview, or waiting round while the other candidates were being grilled, she thought. Well, she’d just have to wait until the end of her shift.
She was partway through getting the children to guess what all the items were on the little manicure set she kept on her belt, and was right at the point where they were gleefully disgusted by the earwax remover when she became aware of someone walking into the gallery, dressed in a toga with a broad purple stripe. Odd. She didn’t think they had anyone playing the part of a senator today. Maybe they’d changed the schedules round a bit without telling her and were doing politics in the next gallery.
As the man in the toga drew nearer, she realised who it was.
He’d oiled his hair back to give the impression of a short Roman crop.
And he looked utterly gorgeous.
But what on earth was Alex doing here, dressed like this?
‘Sorry I’m late. Politics in the Forum,’ he said with a smile, coming to join her.
What?
But—
She didn’t have time to ask any questions because he stood next to her and took her hand, before turning to the audience. ‘I’m Marcus, the senator in charge of the emperor’s entertainment. I order the elephants and the gladiators for displays in the circus, so I’m very busy—and I really need someone at home keeping my domestic affairs in order, running my household.’
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