His Blackmailed Bride

by Sandra Marton

  When you want a man, I’ll be there.

  She remembered the night he’d made that cruel promise. But they’d both said things designed to hurt that night.

  Last night, he’d thought she wanted Jack Ward.

  She sprang to her feet. ‘No!’

  Her whisper trembled in the silent room. That was insane. If that were it, he’d have taken her callously. But he’d been tender and caring; he’d spent hours kissing her and touching her until she’d trembled in his arms and begged for release.

  I’ll make love to you until you beg me to stop. And then I’ll be free of you.

  She gasped for breath, as if all the air had been suddenly drawn from the room. What was the matter with her? Quinn cared for her. She knew he did. Not just because of the way he’d made love to her; that was part of it, yes, but there were other things. They’d been happy together the past weeks. They’d gone places and done things and laughed and talked…

  But never about what had brought them together. When she’d tried, Quinn had cut her short, and she hadn’t forced the issue. Why run the risk of spoiling things? she’d told herself, just as she’d told herself they didn’t have to talk about the past because they’d left it behind.

  But that wasn’t true. You never really left the past; the best you could do was hope to understand it. Then you could build a future.

  Paige let out her breath slowly. That’s what Quinn had meant when he’d said they had things to settle. Her heart lifted. Of course! She understood—and he was right. Making love, even falling in love, couldn’t change the awful reason for their marriage. They had to talk about Alan and her father. Then they’d be free to begin their life together at last.

  She was Mrs Quinn Fowler. Paige Fowler. Her lips turned up in a smile. Funny, she’d never let herself think that way before, but that was who she was. That was who she wanted to be. She was Quinn’s wife…

  The peal of the doorbell startled her. Paige sighed and walked through the entrance hall to the front door. Norah was back early, she thought. The rain had probably done it. Norah’s sister lived far across London, two bus rides with a transfer between them, and on a day like this the buses were always late and the queues long.

  ‘Did you forget your key, Norah?’ Paige smiled as she opened the door. ‘I’m glad you’re back; I was just going to make myself a cup of tea…’ Her words tumbled to a halt as she saw the tall, fair-haired figure on the doorstep. ‘Father?’ she said in disbelief.

  Andrew Gardiner’s expression was bleak. ‘Hello, Paige. May I come in?’

  She stared at him, and then she nodded and stepped aside. ‘Yes, yes, of course. I’m just…’ She caught her breath as the door shut behind him. ‘Is something wrong at home? Is Mother…’

  ‘Your mother’s fine.’

  Paige closed her eyes with relief. ‘Thank God. I thought…’

  Her father took off his coat and handed it to her. ‘I suppose you might say I’m here on business,’ he said slowly, watching as she hung the coat on the rack beside the door.

  ‘Business?’

  Her father nodded. ‘Yes. Could we sit down somewhere, Paige?’ He smiled apologetically. ‘And I could use a drink. Brandy, if you have it.’

  ‘But what kind of business?’ she asked, staring at him. ‘Quinn never said…’

  ‘Brandy first, please. I had to wait for ever for a taxi at the airport.’

  She nodded. ‘Of course. Come sit by the fire and I’ll get you a drink.’

  He followed her into the library, watching as she took a snifter and poured a generous brandy.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said when she handed it to him. ‘Cheers—isn’t that what they say here?’ He tossed the drink off in one swallow and inhaled through his teeth. ‘Maybe you’d better have one of those yourself,’ he said with a strange laugh.

  She stared at him for a moment and then she nodded. ‘Maybe I had,’ she said, and she splashed some brandy into a glass. ‘Now, Father, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?’

  ‘This is a lovely house you have, my dear.’ He looked around the room. ‘That’s a Watteau, isn’t it?’ he asked, gesturing at the painting above the fireplace. ‘Expensive.’

  A chill began to move along Paige’s spine. ‘Quinn’s not here,’ she said, watching him.

  He turned towards her. ‘That’s just as well.’

  The chill grew more pronounced. ‘But you said you were here on business, Father.’

  ‘Yes. But it has nothing to do with your husband. This need only concern you and me.’

  She stared across the room. ‘What are you talking about?’

  His eyes met hers and then slid away. ‘I wouldn’t have come to you if I had a choice,’ he muttered. ‘You must understand that, Paige. But I… I had nowhere else to turn, and…’

  ‘Does Mother know you’re here?’

  Andrew Gardiner’s head rose sharply. ‘Of course not. I… I just told her I had to go out of town on business.’

  ‘For Mr Fowler?’

  Her father laughed. ‘Exactly.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I think you’d better tell me why you’re here.’

  Her father nodded. ‘Yes, all right.’ He eyed the brandy bottle longingly. ‘I don’t suppose…’

  ‘Father, please, what’s this all about?’

  ‘All right, Paige. I’ll come to the point. I have to borrow some money from you.’

  ‘Money? And you came to me?’ She almost laughed. ‘I have no money, Father.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ His voice was sharp. ‘You married a fortune.’

  ‘I married a man,’ she said carefully. ‘There’s a difference.’

  He shrugged. ‘The point is, you have a lot of money, Paige. And I… I need some.’

  She looked at him. ‘For what?’

  ‘What’s the difference? I…’

  Her chin rose. ‘For what, Father?’

  His eyes slid from hers. ‘I… I borrowed some money.’

  ‘But you promised Mother…’

  Her father made an impatient gesture. ‘No. I… I needed more than… I borrowed it from a different place.’

  Paige’s face paled. ‘You mean, you embezzled from Fowler’s again! Are you crazy? You swore…’

  Andrew Gardiner waved his hand in dismissal. ‘This has nothing to do with Fowler’s. It was a loan. From… from someone, a friend of a friend. If things had gone the way they should have, I could have paid it back easily. But…’

  ‘But?’

  He laughed uncomfortably. ‘But things didn’t.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said impatiently. ‘What’s the difference? Now I need…’

  Paige lifted her chin. ‘You need me to get you out of a scrape,’ she said bitterly. ‘The same as before. The only difference is that this time you’ve decided to tell me about it.’

  Her father’s mouth twisted. ‘I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, Paige.’

  ‘Come on, Father, it’s too late to play games. We both know why you were so eager to marry me off to Alan. I was to be the insurance that you wouldn’t be prosecuted if you were caught.’

  ‘It worked out,’ he said defensively. ‘You married well. And you have all this money.’

  Paige stood up. ‘My husband has all this money,’ she said flatly.

  ‘You have access to some of it, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m not going to get you out of this jam, Father. Tell whoever you’ve borrowed from that you can’t…’

  ‘Paige, listen to me. I know you—you don’t think well of me. But I’m in real trouble this time. Think of your mother, if not me.’

  ‘Tell him you’ll pay him off bit by bit, that…’

  ‘Christ almighty!’ His voice rose in pain. ‘They’ll break my legs, don’t you understand? I’ll be found in some dark alley.’

  ‘What are you talking about? You said you’d borrowed from a friend.’ She stared into
her father’s eyes. ‘A loan shark,’ she said softly. ‘That’s who you owe, isn’t it? A Shylock.’

  ‘It was the only way I could get the money I needed.’

  ‘But… they wouldn’t really hurt you, would they? That kind of thing only happens in bad films.’

  ‘It happens in real life, my innocent daughter. I… I’ve owed the money for some time. For several weeks. And if I don’t pay by the day after tomorrow…’ Andrew Gardiner’s voice trembled. ‘Just lend me what I need for a week. Two, at the most. I beg you, Paige.’

  Paige sank down in the chair opposite him. ‘A loan shark,’ she whispered, her eyes on his. ‘First you stole and now…’

  ‘I didn’t steal anything,’ he said quickly. ‘I borrowed. This is different.’

  ‘Nothing’s ever different,’ she said sharply. Why had it taken her so long to see the truth? You couldn’t just ignore things because they were unpleasant. Pushed into dark corners, shadows grew instead of dying.

  ‘Paige.’ His voice was low, heavy with desperation. ‘Please…’

  ‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Why do you do it? I don’t understand you.’

  Gardiner leaped to his feet. ‘Why do you think?’ he cried. ‘No risk, no gain. I always tried to tell that to you and your mother. But neither of you understood; you thought it was all a silly game.’

  ‘We did understand. You wanted better things for us. But we had all we needed, Father. You gave us everything.’

  He shrugged her words aside. ‘Do you know what it’s like to handle money for the rich when you have none of your own?’ His eyes grew fierce. ‘“Did we lose a few thousand today, Gardiner? Well, not to worry, there’s more where that came from.”’ The mimicry left his voice and he thrust his jaw forward. ‘I’m as smart as any of them. Hell, the only difference between the people I’ve worked my life away for and me is how much risk they’re willing to take.’ He bent towards her. ‘I could have made a fortune this time, Paige. I’ve got a formula for predicting the market that will…’

  Her father was still talking, but Paige wasn’t listening. How could she and her mother have been so blind? Perhaps it had simply been easier to smile at his get-rich schemes than admit the truth—that he had a dangerous obsession, an addiction that had finally driven him into a desperate corner.

  In only Quinn were here. Quinn would know what to do. But he was gone; she didn’t even have a number where she could reach him. And he wouldn’t be back until the end of next week. And by then, her father might be…

  ‘All right,’ she said, ‘all right. I’ll lend you what you need.’

  Her father laughed aloud. ‘Bless you, child. I’ll return every penny—with interest. My formula…’

  ‘I don’t want to hear about your formula,’ Paige said sharply. ‘You need help, Father. You…’ A look at his face told her to save her breath. This wasn’t the time for lectures. Besides, her father would no more see his problem than she or her mother had. With a sigh of resignation, she rose from her chair. ‘Just let me get my chequebook,’ she said. ‘How much do you need?’

  He pursed his lips and ran his finger beneath his shirt collar. ‘Ten thousand dollars.’

  The words seemed to echo through the room. Paige stared at her father in silence for what seemed for ever.

  ‘Ten thousand dollars?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll pay it back,’ he said quickly.

  ‘But I assumed—I thought you needed a few hundred.’

  He laughed unpleasantly. ‘I’d hardly have come this distance for a few hundred dollars, Paige. What I need is ten thousand.’

  She shook her head. ‘I haven’t got it.’

  ‘What do you mean, you haven’t got it? Your husband’s wealthy.’

  ‘I have less than a thousand in my bank account, Father. In dollars, that’s…’

  ‘I know what it is,’ he said angrily. ‘That’s impossible, Paige. You must have more than that.’

  ‘It’s all I have. The other accounts are in Quinn’s name.’ Paige looked at her father. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly. ‘There’s nothing I can do.’

  Andrew Gardiner turned white. ‘They’ll kill me. They’ve done it before. The man who told me about these people—he warned me, he said he knew somebody who’d borrowed from them and couldn’t repay and he… he just disappeared.’

  Her heart thudded. ‘Go to the police.’

  ‘The police? That would only make things worse. You don’t talk to the police about men like this, not if you want to stay healthy.’ Her father sank into the chair again. ‘You’ve got to think of something,’ he said, running his hands through his fair hair. ‘Surely you must have something of value.’

  Her hand went to her breasts, protectively seeking Quinn’s ruby before she remembered that it was on the table in the bedroom.

  ‘Jewellery,’ her father said, as if he could read her mind. ‘He must have given you jewellery.’

  ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘Nothing.’ Not Quinn’s ring. Never that.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘It’s my life we’re talking about, Paige. You wouldn’t hold out on me.’

  ‘Father. I…’

  ‘Think, girl,’ he said roughly. ‘Is there a safe in the house?’

  ‘No,’ she said again, and then, suddenly, she remembered coming into the library that morning and finding Quinn at the campaign table.

  ‘Well?’

  She nodded. ‘There’s a secret drawer…’ She looked at her father. ‘I don’t even know if there’s anything in it.’

  ‘Open it,’ he said.

  Her eyes filled with anguish. ‘It’s wrong,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t just…’

  ‘What happens to me will be on your conscience for ever.’

  She swallowed. ‘All right,’ she said softly. ‘Wait in the hall.’ She closed the library door after him and then walked slowly to Quinn’s campaign table. Carefully, she lifted and twisted the brass corner gusset. It moved easily, and the concealed drawer sprang open.

  There were several envelopes stacked neatly inside. The first held papers, the second Quinn’s passport. Her heart skipped a beat when she came to the third.

  The envelope contained money. American banknotes. She took them out and counted them. Eight, nine, ten thousand dollars.

  Paige put the bills on the table and stared at them. How could she take this money? It was wrong. Until last night, she’d been Quinn’s wife in name only. Whatever uneasy beginning they’d made might be wasted if she did this. She bowed her head. If only he were here.

  But he wasn’t. Her father had crossed an ocean to tell her his life was in danger. She riffled through the bills again. Would the money itself be important to Quinn? She doubted it. Her husband was wealthy—he’d spent as much money as she held in her hand right now the afternoon he’d taken her shopping.

  What it came to was that she’d be taking the money without his knowledge or his permission. Stealing it. That was what she’d be doing—stealing it, and giving it to her father, a man Quinn had already once protected. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t let her father be hurt. Certainly, Quinn would understand that.

  She took a deep breath and opened the library door. ‘Here,’ she said, thrusting the banknotes at her father. ‘Now, leave and never come to me for help again.’

  Her father let out his breath. ‘Thank you, dear child. Thank you. I swear, once I’m out of this, it’ll never happen again.’ He looked at his wristwatch. ‘If I hurry, I can just make the next flight back. Would you phone for a taxi?’

  The thought of having to make small talk while her father waited for a cab made her stomach knot. It seemed easier to bundle him into Quinn’s Jaguar and drive him to the airport herself.

  ‘I’ll take you,’ she said, snatching her coat from the rack. ‘Quinn left his car. It’s in the garage.’

  Her father cleared his throat. ‘Paige?’ She paused, hand on the doorknob, and he ran his tongue over his lips. ‘I know I haven’t b
een the kind of father I might have been,’ he said gruffly. ‘But… but I love you, girl. I just wanted you to know that.’

  He put his arms around her. The simple action stunned her. Had he ever hugged her before? If he had, she couldn’t remember it. She stood still within his embrace and then, hesitantly, she put her arms around his neck.

  ‘I… I love you too, Daddy,’ she whispered.

  A cold gust of air swept over them as the front door opened. Paige and her father sprang apart. The housekeeper stood in the open doorway, staring at them.

  ‘Norah,’ Paige said. ‘I… I didn’t expect you until this evening.’

  The housekeeper lifted an eyebrow. ‘So I see, ma’am. I thought I’d come back a bit early.’ Her chin rose. ‘I take it Mr Fowler’s not here.’

  ‘Quinn?’ Paige felt a surge of colour in her cheeks. ‘No, no, he’s… he’s away. This is…’ She turned to introduce her father, but then she thought better of it. There would be questions she didn’t have time to answer. ‘We were just on our way out.’

  Norah sniffed. ‘Indeed.’

  Paige nodded. ‘Yes. We’re… we’re in a rush, so if you’d just…’

  The housekeeper stepped aside. ‘What shall I tell Mr Fowler if he calls?’

  ‘Tell him that…’ Paige hesitated. ‘Just tell him I’ve gone out,’ she said finally.

  Norah’s mouth tightened. ‘I understand, ma’am.’

  ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back. Late, probably.’

  The housekeeper sniffed again. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes, I can imagine.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PAIGE sighed wearily as she shut off the Jaguar’s engine. She’d expected to get back late, but this was ridiculous. Hours had passed since she’d left for the airport. The afternoon had stretched into a cold, moonless night, and the rain, which had let up for a short while, had begun again.

  The mews was silent, the house dark. Norah was probably asleep, Paige thought, and she felt a twinge of regret. Even the housekeeper, always polite although never really friendly, would have been a welcome companion tonight.