His Blackmailed Bride

‘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.