The hall outside her room was silent. She’d seen little of the house the night before. From the shelter of Quinn’s arms, she’d only glimpsed dark walls and shadowed corners. Now, daylight revealed a handsome, eclectically furnished home that bore a clear masculine imprint. No moats or drawbridges here, she thought with a nervous laugh as she started down the stairs.
The house was clearly Quinn’s. There were framed photographs on the walls, black and white studies of city streets and country lanes, all with the same quality of moodiness flowing like dark rivers just beneath. Paige knew immediately that Quinn had taken them. A stack of letters lay on a table in the entry hall, all addressed in the firm, flowing script she recognised as his. A tweed jacket lay draped carelessly over the back of a chair. His, she thought, touching her hand to it, and she felt the sudden, heavy thud of her heart.
Music drifted towards her from a door that stood ajar just down the hall. Mozart, she thought, walking slowly towards it. At the doorway, she paused, her mouth suddenly dry. Alone in the guest room, it had been easy to tell herself she would lay down the rules that would govern her new life. Now, with the moment at hand, she knew it wouldn’t be half as simple as she’d let herself think. But she would do it—that was what counted. Determination squared her shoulders, and she took a step forward and rapped on the partly open door.
‘Come in, Paige. Close the door behind you.’
Quinn was seated at an old-fashioned partners’ desk on the far side of the room. As she entered, he rose and dropped a handful of papers on the desk’s cluttered surface.
The room was pleasant. A brass and teak wood campaign table stood near the desk, topped by a sleek computer. The walls were lined with books and more photographs, some of them unframed and simply tacked in place. The room’s focal point was a handsome marble fireplace; coals glowed in the heart, chasing the morning’s chill. Net-curtained French doors overlooked what she assumed was a garden, and a table set for two stood before them.
Her eyes returned to Quinn. He was wearing pale grey trousers and a blue sweater, and he was watching her with a bemused expression.
‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘Do you like the room?’
Paige looked at him steadily. ‘Norah said you wanted to see me.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘That wasn’t precisely the message I sent. I asked her to tell you breakfast was ready.’
A light flush brushed her cheeks. ‘Yes, that’s what she said. But I never have breakfast, thank you. I only take coffee in the morning. And…’
‘Nor do I,’ he said pleasantly. ‘But I thought, since this was such a special day…’
Her flush deepened, and she started to turn away, determined not to be drawn into a game of cat and mouse. ‘If that’s all you wanted…’
‘Do you like your coffee black? Or with cream and sugar?’ He crossed the room to the neatly set table and looked at her.
‘Black. But…’
‘Black,’ he repeated, picking up a silver coffee pot. An aromatic fragrance filled the room as he filled two cups and held one out to her. ‘I’ll remember that. A husband should know how his wife likes her coffee, don’t you think?’
Now, she thought, and she took a breath.
‘Quinn, there are things we should discuss…’
‘Coffee first,’ he said. ‘After that, I’ll consider a discussion.’ He sipped at his coffee and then looked at her again. ‘Are you feeling better?’
She nodded. ‘Much. I… I was just tired, I guess. I…’
A slow smile curled at the corners of his mouth. ‘Yes, I know. When I looked in on you…’
She drew in her breath. ‘When you… when you looked in on me?’
‘Yes. You were dead to the world.’
The dream-image came again. Heated skin against hers, lips brushing hers with the lightest of kisses…
‘And then, when I saw you this morning, I was tempted to let you sleep as long as you liked. But that only makes the time change more difficult.’ Quinn cocked his head to the side. ‘Is something wrong with your coffee, Paige?’
But he knew what was wrong, damn him. She could see the amusement in the cold, ocean-blue depths of his eyes.
‘You were in my room during the night and again this morning?’ He shook his head. ‘But you said…’
‘I was in my room,’ he said softly.
His room. She had slept in his room. In his bed.
‘Your room.’ Spoken aloud, the words seemed to tremble in the air. ‘I thought… I assumed I was in the guest room.’
Quinn’s eyes met hers. ‘Why would my wife sleep in the guest room?’
‘Quinn…’
He smiled. ‘I slept in the guest room, Paige.’
Air rushed from her lungs. ‘That wasn’t necessary.’ The blush tinged her skin again. ‘I mean, I’ll take the guest room. I don’t mind…’
‘But I do.’ His voice was flat, the words sharp.
‘Really, Quinn, it’ll be fine. I…’
‘I don’t think you understand me, Paige. We’re not sleeping in separate rooms.’
‘I have no intention of…’ Her voice faltered.
‘You’re my wife,’ he said, as if that were the only explanation required. His eyes moved over her slowly; she could almost feel their caress. ‘Norah thought it was gallant of me to let you catch up on your sleep our first night together.’
‘I don’t give a damn what Norah thought. I…’
‘The truth wasn’t half as respectable.’ His words cut across her like lightning through the night sky. ‘I want you wide awake and ready when we make love, Paige.’ His eyes caught hers. ‘That’s why I stayed out of our bed last night.’
Our bed. She stared at him, wondering if he could hear the pounding of her heart, telling herself he’d chosen such blunt words deliberately to put her off balance. But one look at his face, at the defiant set of his jaw and the fierce glow in his eyes, told her that what he’d said had been the naked truth.
Paige marched across the room and put her cup and saucer on the table. ‘That’s out of the question,’ she said quickly. ‘We’re not…’
‘We’re not what? Not husband and wife?’ He laughed. ‘There’s a very official-looking document on my desk that says we are.’
‘Our marriage is a sham,’ she said, lifting her chin defiantly. ‘We both know it, Quinn. We…’
He was across the room in a few quick strides, looming over her as she shrank back against the wall.
‘Listen to me, sweet Juliet,’ he said softly. ‘I love my brother, but I’m not a candidate for sainthood. Marrying you to protect Alan was one thing, but getting no benefit from the arrangement is quite another.’ She pulled her head away as he reached toward her, but he caught her chin in his hand and turned her face to him. ‘I’ll be damned if I’m going to come out of this the only loser.’
She forced her eyes to meet his without flinching. ‘What have you lost, Quinn?’ she asked softly. ‘You hurt your brother, embarrassed your family, ruined my life…’
His hand tightened as it slid to the nape of her neck. ‘Ruined your life?’ His voice was as quiet as a graveyard. ‘You came out ahead, my love. You wanted to marry money—I have money, Paige, more than Alan could have given you. You wanted to marry a Fowler—hell, you had to marry one, for Daddy’s sake. Well, I’m a Fowler.’ His lips drew back from his teeth. ‘Not the one you’d planned on—but that’s an advantage, isn’t it?’
‘Don’t compare yourself to Alan,’ Paige said quickly. ‘You’re nothing like him.’
She drew in her breath as Quinn pulled her to him. ‘Exactly,’ he said in a low whisper. ‘Just think of how much more you’ll enjoy being in my bed than in his.’
She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘That’s disgusting! You…’
‘Now I can see it,’ Quinn said softly. ‘That innocent tremor in your lips, that look of fear in your eyes…’ His thumb moved lightly along the column of her throat. ‘No wo
nder Alan thought…’
‘I won’t sleep with you,’ she said sharply.
‘You’ll do what our contract calls for.’
‘Our what?’
‘Our contract. Our marriage vows.’ He smiled coldly. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our arrangement already.’
Paige touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘That’s exactly what it was. An arrangement. And…’
‘I know the terms, Paige. Believe me, I have no illusions about a grand passion.’
‘Neither do I. And that’s why…’
‘You would have preferred Alan, wouldn’t you?’ His voice rose. ‘He’d have been so much easier to handle. He’d have never demanded anything, never questioned anything—and he’d have been grateful for any crumbs you tossed him.’ His hands closed on her shoulders. ‘But I’m not Alan.’
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘You’re nothing like Alan. He’s kind and considerate, and…’
‘And he’s no match for a bitch like you.’
She twisted against the steely strength of his hands. ‘Don’t call me that, damn you. I…’
‘Come on, Paige, don’t give me that nonsense. We both know what you are.’
‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she whispered.
‘I know everything about you. It’s only Alan who doesn’t. You came on to me like…’
‘That didn’t bother you when you thought I was engaged to someone else, did it?’ she asked defiantly. ‘“The hell with your fiancé”, you said. “Forget him,” you said. But when you realised I was engaged to Alan…
‘When I realised you’d deceived him into thinking you were something you weren’t, you mean.’ A muscle moved in his jaw. ‘I know how to deal with a woman like you,’ he said softly. ‘Alan doesn’t. The innocent need someone to protect them. That’s why I had to take you from him.’
Paige looked into his face. ‘Very touching,’ she said. ‘Quinn makes a sacrifice for his little brother.’
‘Meaning?’
She smiled coldly. ‘Is that the reason you’d like to believe?’
His eyes grew dark. ‘What the hell kind of question is that?’
‘Just listen to yourself, Quinn,’ she said in a venom-filled voice. ‘All that talk about “protecting” the innocent. Is blackmailing women into your bed part of the “protection” you so generously offer?’
‘Damn you, Paige…’
‘Why don’t you try being honest with yourself? You didn’t marry me to protect Alan. You did it because you wanted me for yourself.’
His hands dug into her as he drew her to him. ‘You’d love to believe that, wouldn’t you?’
‘I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,’ she said, reckless with the desire to hurt him. ‘Were you trying to fool me or yourself? Not that it matters—we both know the truth, don’t we? I’ll bet you used to take Alan’s toys away from him, too.’
He laughed at her. ‘I’m almost nine years older than Alan, Paige. The only things I’ve ever taken from him were things that would hurt him.’ He paused, and a smile that was no smile turned the corner of his mouth. ‘Like you, for instance.’
‘What do you know about me or Alan? You’ve been out of his life for years, playing at living abroad, toying with computers…’
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. ‘I hate to disappoint you, but that’s not quite the way it was. I haven’t “played” at anything. I’ve had to work damned hard for what I’ve got.’
‘It’s Alan who’s worked hard, shouldering the whole burden at Fowler’s after you walked out.’
His hands fell from her shoulders. ‘You don’t know a damned thing about it,’ he said softly.
Watching his face, she knew she’d somehow cut through the cool surface and touched some hidden vulnerability. She spoke quickly, searching for words that might wound him.
‘I know enough. You left your family…’
‘I sure as hell did.’ He laughed at her expression of distaste. ‘I left by request—didn’t Alan tell you?’
Paige stared at him. ‘You mean, your parents asked you to leave?’
He smiled. ‘I couldn’t have phrased it better myself.’
So much for wounding him. ‘You sound—you sound proud of it.’
‘Damned right, I’m proud. What I’ve done…’
‘Poor Alan. “My big brother”, he calls you. And he talks about you as if… as if you were special.’ She looked at him and then turned her face away. ‘I’m glad he doesn’t know the truth.’
‘Such devotion,’ Quinn said softly.
Paige’s eyes blazed with anger. ‘I know it’s beyond you to understand, but I don’t want to see Alan hurt.’
He dipped his head in mock appreciation. ‘Nice. If I didn’t know you better, I’d be tempted to believe it.’
‘If only you’d never come back,’ she hissed. ‘If only you’d stayed away.’
‘But I didn’t stay away,’ he said, swinging her towards him. ‘The prodigal son returned—and ruined all your pretty little plans. Hard luck, sweetheart.’
‘It’s useless to argue with you, isn’t it? You’re so damned sure you’re right…’
‘I’m right about you, Paige. I know you’ll find it difficult to believe, but women like you aren’t unique.’
She looked up at him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Just what it says. I’ve met your type before. Women like you sell yourselves for whatever you can get. Quick sex or a long tease—whatever the occasion or the purchaser requires—you can manage either one.’
‘God, how I loathe you! No wonder your parents tossed you out. You were probably the sort of little boy who pulled wings off flies.’
He laughed. ‘I was the sort who thought for myself, Paige. I still do. If Alan had ever developed the ability, he’d have seen right through your Snow Queen act.’
Her face whitened. ‘You have no right to say that to me,’ she whispered. ‘I never lied to Alan about… about that. He knew…’
‘He didn’t know a damned thing. You had the poor bastard half convinced you were Sleeping Beauty and he was the Prince whose kiss would awaken you.’ He clasped her shoulders tightly and drew her to him. ‘If only he knew the truth.’
‘I never led your brother on,’ Paige said, trying to twist free of him. ‘He was the one who pursued me. I…’
‘Yeah, I’ll bet he did,’ he said, his voice sharp with sarcasm. ‘You worked him like a trained donkey. Dangle the carrot and he’d follow you anywhere. And it would have worked—if you hadn’t run into me.’
Paige lifted her chin. ‘Back to square one. “Quinn saves Alan from the clutches of la femme fatale.” I’m surprised you didn’t tell your whole family about me—if they’d believed your lies, you’d have been transformed from black sheep to hero overnight.’ Her eyes flashed defiance. ‘I hope you’re not crazy enough to think what you’ve done is your ticket back, Quinn. Your name’s blacker than ever now.’
He laughed, a soft, frightening sound, and mimed applause. ‘Fantastic performance. I take back what I said before, Paige. Your trade isn’t unique, but your talents may be. A little amateur psychology, a little method acting—damn, but you’re good.’ His hands slid to her waist and he pulled her against him. ‘But not good enough.’
Fear shot through her as she felt the heat of his body against hers.
‘Let go of me,’ she said carefully.
He smiled coldly. ‘Did that work with Alan?’ She gasped as he moved against her, letting her feel his power. ‘Because it sure as hell doesn’t mean a damned thing to me.’
‘Don’t…’
His hands slid up her back and he cupped her face, tilting it up to his. ‘That’s not what you said on the beach.’
‘I should have,’ she said quickly. ‘And I’m saying it now. Please…’
‘The return of the Snow Queen,’ he said softly. ‘How charming.’ His t
humbs moved slowly along her throat, and he gave her a quick, dangerous smile. ‘But it’s too late to try that, Paige. It won’t play, not with me.’
‘Can’t you… can’t you forget that night?’ she asked desperately. ‘I’ve told you and told you, it was a mistake. It was…’
His hands curved around her neck. ‘I’ve known many women, sweet Juliet.’ His voice was soft, his eyes dark. ‘Some of them wanted to play games that might even make you blush. But what happened on that beach…’
Her hands spread on his chest. ‘I… I don’t want to talk about it. It was… it was as if…’
He laughed softly. ‘You don’t have to tell me what it was like. I remember—I’ll always remember.’ His voice hardened. ‘Why didn’t you come back to me?’
‘I… I couldn’t. People were… people were waiting. And… and it seemed wrong. I was… I was marrying Alan in just a few days. I was…’
His eyes darkened. ‘You were afraid of getting caught.’
‘Yes. No, no, it wasn’t like that. I… I was confused. I didn’t want to hurt Alan. I…’
‘You mean, you didn’t want to lose the pay-off you’d worked so hard to collect. You went back into that ballroom and you panicked. What if someone had seen us? All your plans, up in smoke.’
‘You’re wrong, Quinn. I…’
She tried to turn her face away from him, but his hands held her immobilised.
‘No sex without marriage. That’s it, isn’t it? That was how you snared Alan in the first place.’
‘I’ve had enough. I won’t let you say these things to me. I…’
‘But you’d have slept with him after the wedding.’ A terrible weariness was stealing into her bones, sapping her of strength. ‘Answer me,’ he growled. ‘Would you have let him make love to you?’
‘Yes,’ she murmured.
‘Because he was your husband.’
‘Yes,’ she said again.
Quinn inhaled sharply. ‘Because that would have been his payment for making you a Fowler.’
Her head rose sharply. ‘No. Damn you, Quinn…’
Something evil stirred in the darkness of his eyes. ‘Well,’ he said softly, ‘you’re a Fowler now, Paige.’ His hands slid down her throat, to her shoulders, down her spine. She moaned as he cupped her buttocks and drew her against him. ‘And it’s payment time.’
His Blackmailed Bride Page 8
