His Blackmailed Bride

by Sandra Marton

  She let herself into the house and then leaned her back against the closed door. There was a throbbing pain in her temple. A tension headache, probably. It had been building ever since she’d left the house with her father hours before. Everything had conspired against her: traffic to Heathrow had been horrendous, and then there’d been an accident on the A4 that had resulted in a detour. And she still wasn’t entirely comfortable driving on what she thought of as the wrong side of the road. By the time they’d finally reached the airport, her father had missed his flight.

  ‘You don’t have to wait around, Paige,’ he’d said. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  She’d nodded and started to leave, and then she’d sighed. ‘Come on, Father,’ she’d said, forcing a smile to her face. ‘Let’s get some coffee.’

  Her father had switched from coffee to brandy after a while. ‘I need something to relax me,’ he’d said, and that was just what the brandy had done. He’d become nostalgic, even maudlin, explaining endlessly how he’d only wanted the best for her always, until finally Paige had told him that for a man who kept saying that, he certainly did some strange and unforgivable things. Still, when it was finally time to see him on board his plane, he’d hugged her and her eyes had misted.

  ‘I’ll repay every dollar,’ he’d promised. ‘You tell that to your husband for me.’

  Paige sighed as she undid her coat. Before she could do that, she’d have to tell Quinn she’d taken all that money. God, she dreaded it! But he’d understand, if he listened with his heart, and she was sure he was ready to do that. When he came home, they’d put aside all the misunderstanding that separated them. Passion had brought them together, but only honesty and trust could make their marriage real.

  The stairs looked as steep as a slope in the Rockies. And her head was beginning to pound. Well, she thought as she climbed slowly to the upper floor, some aspirin and a good night’s sleep would fix it. A phone call from Quinn would be even more welcome. She wouldn’t tell him about her father’s visit over the phone—that was something best done face to face—but the sound of his voice would make her feel better.

  She paused on the landing. Maybe he’d called while she was out. No, Norah would have left a message on the hall table, and it had been bare. It was late, but not so late that he might not still call. She’d shower and put on her nightgown and hope.

  The bedroom was dark. The curtains were drawn against the rainy night—Norah’s work, she thought, sinking down on the edge of the bed. God, she was exhausted! Her father’s visit had worn her out. Now there was a new set of problems added to the old.

  She put her hand to her throat, searching, as always, for the solace of Quinn’s ring.

  The ring! Where was it? Paige sprang to her feet, her heart thudding erratically while she fumbled for the ruby in its accustomed place between her breasts—and then she shut her eyes and blew a sigh of relief.

  What was the matter with her? The ring was on the bedside table, where she’d left it after breaking the chain when she and Quinn…

  But it wasn’t. The other table, then. She must have forgotten.

  But the ring was gone. She’d lost it. She…

  ‘Stop it,’ she whispered aloud. ‘Ruby rings don’t just walk off. It must be somewhere. It…’

  ‘It is.’

  Light flooded the room. ‘Quinn?’ Paige stared into the corner in disbelief. ‘Quinn,’ she said again, and laughed. ‘You scared the life out of me.’

  He was leaning against the wall, still dressed as he had been that morning. A smile curved over his lips.

  ‘Surprise, darling,’ he said. ‘I’m back early.’

  There was something strange about his eyes, she thought. The colour seemed muted. Almost dulled.

  ‘Aren’t you glad to see me, Paige?’

  She took a step towards him. ‘Of course. I’m just surprised you’re back so soon. A week, you said.’

  ‘So I did.’

  ‘Is… is everything all right? You sound strange.’

  He nodded. ‘Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?’

  It wasn’t. There was a dark undertone in his voice, a warning that chilled her. Could he know about her father and the money? No, of course not. It was just her guilty conscience playing tricks.

  She smiled at him. ‘You should have called. I’d have met you at the airport.’

  His glance drifted over her. ‘How would you have managed that, Paige? You were out all evening.’

  Her breath caught. ‘How did you kn…’ She looked down at herself, at the raincoat she’d forgotten to take off, and then back at him. ‘Right. I was out—for a while.’

  He smiled coolly. ‘And you’re going out again?’

  ‘Going ou… oh, no, no, I just forgot to hang my coat away. I…’

  ‘Of course, you were going out again.’ His lips drew back in a parody of a smile. ‘After you found this.’

  She looked into his outstretched hand. The ruby ring, pulsing with light, blazed in his palm.

  ‘My ring,’ she said with relief. ‘Thank goodness! I was afraid…’

  ‘You were afraid you’d lost it. And that would have been hell, wouldn’t it? After all, it’s quite valuable.’

  It reminds me of the night we met, of how much my life has changed, of how much I love you.

  That was what she wanted to say, but the look on his face stopped her. There was something wrong. She could see it in his eyes. They were as cold as she’d ever seen them.

  Did he know about her father’s visit? No, he couldn’t. He… Norah! Norah had told him. Paige hadn’t introduced them, but all the housekeeper had to do was describe the man she’d seen—tall, fair-haired, older—and Quinn would know who it was. Her breathing quickened. Had she closed the secret drawer in the campaign table? Maybe Norah had found it open. Maybe Quinn already knew everything.

  ‘Quinn?’ Her voice sounded breathy and high-pitched. ‘How long… when did you get back?’

  He smiled again, and she knew that she would remember the shark-like quality of his smile for as long as she lived.

  ‘I thought you wanted your ring, Paige.’ He held his hand out again. ‘Go on, take it.’

  She hesitated, and then her fingers closed around the ruby. For the first time, it felt cold, as if the flame in its heart had been quenched.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. Her mouth tasted of ashes, and she swallowed hard.

  His eyes fixed on hers. ‘You’ll want to get that chain fixed. Hell, you can’t tell what bed you’ll lose it in next time.’

  Her head rose sharply. He was smiling, as if what he’d said had been meant as a jest, but every instinct told her otherwise. Something terrible was happening. Something unknown.

  She took a step forward. ‘Quinn. What is it? Why did you come back so soon?’

  His mouth twisted. ‘Not soon enough, Paige.’

  Her pulse began to race. ‘What… what do you mean?’

  ‘Come on, sweetheart. Don’t play dumb. You’re a lot of things, baby, but not dumb. Unlucky, maybe—but never dumb.’

  Her heart turned over. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his and looked into their blue-green depths.

  ‘You know, don’t you?’

  His expression was grim. ‘Yes, I know. I know all of it.’

  ‘How… how did you find out?’

  ‘Norah’s been with me for years, Paige. Did you think she wouldn’t tell me?’ He clasped her shoulders in his hands. ‘I telephoned this afternoon, when I realised I… when I realised I hadn’t left a number where I could be reached in an emergency.’ His voice twisted with darkness. ‘She told me about your… your guest. I came home as soon as I hung up the phone.’

  ‘And the money? Did I leave the drawer open?’

  There was a hollow silence. ‘No,’ Quinn said, and he laughed bitterly. ‘No, finding the cupboard bare was just an educated guess.’

  Paige nodded wearily. ‘I see.’

  His breath hissed through his teeth
. ‘You see?’ His hands curled into the lapels of her coat, half lifting her from her feet. ‘You see? Is that all you’re going to say?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I… I…’

  Where to begin? she thought. Quinn was white-lipped with anger, and she knew she was guilty. It wasn’t the best time to tell him anything, much less try and make him understand why she’d taken his money and given it to her father, but time was a luxury she no longer had.

  ‘Well?’ His voice was cold. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve run out of explanations, Paige. You never have before.’

  ‘Quinn, please. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I… I know you’re angry…’

  He laughed. ‘Angry? Is that what you think I am?’

  ‘Furious, then. But… but you don’t know the whole story.’

  His hold on her tightened. ‘Don’t waste your breath. I’m tired of your lies.’

  ‘I’ve never lied to you,’ she said quickly. ‘I…’

  ‘You’ve never done anything else.’

  ‘That’s not true. If you’d just listen…’

  ‘What’s the point in listening? I wouldn’t believe you if you told me water was wet.’

  ‘I was desperate. That’s why I took the money. I…’

  ‘Yes, I’ll bet you were!’ His voice grew bitter. ‘You knew you wouldn’t be able to get a penny out of me.’

  Paige shook her head. ‘No. I was sure if I explained things, you’d give me the money. But…’

  ‘Come off it, Paige. I wasn’t born yesterday.’ His face darkened as he bent towards her. ‘And why don’t I hear you making up any sweet little stories about your visitor? Can’t you think of a way to pretend your fair-haired gentleman caller was Saint Nicholas, come to pay an early visit?’

  Her chin lifted. ‘I’m not going to lie, Quinn. You know he was here. But he caught me by surprise. I had no idea…’

  ‘You had no idea!’ His voice mocked her cruelly as he drew her towards him. ‘How long was he in my house?’

  ‘Not long. I…’

  ‘How long?’ he demanded.

  ‘I… I’m not sure. Twenty minutes. Half an hour…’ Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. ‘I couldn’t help it, Quinn. I…’

  ‘Jesus, what kind of woman are you?’ he roared as he flung her from him. ‘Is that the only excuse you can offer? You couldn’t stop yourself from… from deceiving me in my own home?’

  ‘I know how it looks,’ she whispered. ‘But he begged me. I…’

  She shrank back against the wall as he rushed towards her, his hand upraised and trembling with barely controlled rage. They stood facing each other for what seemed an eternity, until finally Quinn lowered his hand and turned away.

  ‘Get out.’

  No, she thought, no… ‘Quinn,’ she whispered, ‘please listen to me.’

  He spun towards her again and caught her by the wrist. ‘Don’t push me,’ he said through his teeth. ‘These past few hours, sitting in the dark, I’ve thought of a dozen different methods of vengeance. Listen to me, Paige. Leave while you still can.’

  Tears began to spill down her cheeks. ‘I beg you, just give me a chance to explain.’

  She winced as the pressure of his fingers increased. ‘You almost got away clean. Ten thousand dollars, the Jaguar—if you hadn’t been so damned greedy…’

  ‘What are you talking about? I…’

  ‘How far had you gone before you realised you’d forgotten the ruby? Hell, the minute I saw it lying on the table, I knew you’d be back.’ His fingers dug into the tender skin on the underside of her wrist. ‘After all, there was no risk. I was supposed to be out of town.’

  ‘Quinn, for God’s sake—I came back because I live here. This is my home.’

  ‘It was my own damned fault. I tipped my hand this morning, didn’t I? I never said “divorce”, but you know what I meant.’ His voice dropped to a growl. ‘And once you put that and our nuptial agreement together, you panicked. No money. No house. No car. Nothing.’

  ‘No. No…’

  His eyes burned with a dark fire as he pulled her closer. ‘So you decided to take as much as you could. I guess it runs in the family.’

  Paige shook her head wildly from side to side. ‘What are you talking about? It wasn’t like that. I…’

  ‘But that’s all right; it just adds to the list of wonderful things I’ll tell Alan if you ever try to crawl back to him.’ A smile as cold as the night lit his face. ‘Starting with a graphic description of the things we did in bed last night.’

  His words were a knife, twisting deep into her heart. ‘You’re lying,’ she whispered. ‘Last night meant something.’

  ‘It sure as hell did, sweet Juliet. Remember when I said I’d never let Alan play with dangerous toys when he was little?’ His mouth narrowed. ‘Well, if I wanted to be sure he didn’t pick up the toy again—if I wanted to be sure it couldn’t hurt him any more…’

  Tears spilled from her eyes. ‘No,’ she begged. ‘Please.’

  ‘Men are like boys, sweetheart. Somebody else’s used toy has very little value to them.’

  Her head fell forward. ‘Why…’ Her voice broke. ‘Why did you wait so long to… to…’

  ‘You’ve got a short memory, Paige,’ he said, as the pressure of his hand became almost unbearable. ‘I told you I’d make you beg me to take you.’ He pulled her to him, and his eyes blazed into hers. ‘And you did.’

  ‘No,’ she said, but, even as she whispered the word, she knew he was telling her the truth. Only the foolishness of her own desperate heart had blinded her to it. This was real, not the night she’d spent in his arms. This was where the magic had taken her.

  A sob caught in her throat. ‘I’d give my life to take back what we did last night.’

  His eyes darkened. ‘Yes,’ he whispered, ‘I’ll bet you would.’

  He drew her against him before she could stop him, and his mouth swooped to hers in a hard kiss that made a mockery of the night they’d shared. Paige cried out, twisting against the roughness of his embrace, but it was useless. When he’d finished with her, he thrust her from him. They stared at each other, and then she wiped the back of her hand across her lips.

  ‘You disgust me,’ she said in a shaky whisper.

  A muscle clenched in his jaw as he turned away from her.

  ‘Get out of my house.’

  Her hands trembled as she drew the edges of her raincoat together. ‘You’ll get your money back, Quinn. Every damned penny, if it takes me a lifetime.’

  He laughed. ‘Forget it. Hell, not every man gets to pay ten thousand bucks for a piece of…’

  She fled the room before he could finish the sentence. Her high heels clattered down the steps and through the entrance hall. She had a sudden glimpse of Norah’s face, frozen in righteous indignation, and then the door slammed shut behind her.

  * * *

  The streets of London were cold and dark, the fog thick as she’d ever seen it. Anger hurried her along the pavement, towards the faint lights glowing beyond the mews. Anger gave her a destination—the only hotel she knew—Claridge’s, not far from Quinn’s house in Mayfair. Her steps faltered a bit when she entered the elegant lobby, looking bedraggled in her wet raincoat, with her hair plastered to her head. She had no luggage, and the desk clerk looked properly sceptical.

  ‘Have you a reservation, madam?’

  Paige swallowed. ‘No.’

  The clerk smiled politely. ‘In that case, I’m afraid…’

  Without thinking, Paige lifted her chin. ‘I’m Mrs Quinn Fowler,’ she said, and the words seemed a magic incantation.

  She was led to a corner suite. A basket of fruit and a pot of tea appeared, her wet coat and wetter shoes disappeared, to be returned dry and clean the next morning.

  The manager himself accompanied the chambermaid who brought her clothing to her.

  ‘This was found in your coat pocket, Mrs Fowler.’ His voice held reproach.

 
Paige knew what it was even before he held the ruby ring out to her. The sight of it put the first crack into the wall of anger that surrounded her. Her heart gave a tremulous lurch; it took effort to keep from reaching out for the ring.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘If you’d just leave it on that table—and I’d like my bill, please. I’m leaving this morning.’

  She wrote a cheque for an amount that made her turn pale. But there was just enough in her account to provide for the night’s lodging as well as the fare to New York from Heathrow. Yet when she stood in the queue at the British Airways ticket counter, she found herself backing away in confusion. Before she knew what she was doing, she was following the signs to the Tube that would take her back to London.

  Staying in England made no sense. Returning to Claridge’s, a place she could ill afford in her circumstances, made no sense, either. At least, that was what she thought—until she was once again standing in the handsome lobby of the venerable hotel. Then, with a terrible rush, the truth came to her.

  She hadn’t come to Claridge’s last night because of its proximity to the house, she’d come because of the memories it held. Quinn had brought her here days before, mysterious and close-mouthed, smiling with pleasure when she exclaimed with delight at the reason for their visit.

  ‘High tea,’ he’d said, watching her face. ‘The way it used to be done and hardly ever is any more.’

  ‘I feel like royalty,’ she’d whispered with a grin after a liveried server had brought delicate sandwiches and pastries.

  ‘That’s how you look,’ Quinn had said, his eyes hot on hers. ‘Like a fairy-tale princess.’

  It had been such a lovely moment—and she’d believed it, believed in what she’d seen in his face when he’d looked at her, what she’d heard in his voice. And there had been other moments, other days, all of them made up of memories her heart refused to relinquish. She could not bring herself to leave them.

  It was why she couldn’t leave London.

  She cabled home, afraid that her mother might phone her at the house in Mayfair, afraid, too, of what she might give away in her voice if she placed a call to the States. She was not yet ready to talk about what had happened; she was even less ready to try and explain why she wasn’t heading home. The cable bubbled with enthusiasm.