His Blackmailed Bride

Her heart filled with happiness. It was Quinn. He was bent over her, his face only inches away, and when she looked into his eyes she knew that she could live on what she saw there for the rest of her life.

He cupped her face gently in his hands and brushed his lips against hers. If this was a dream, she hoped never to awaken. She whispered his name again, savouring the taste of it on her tongue.

‘Don’t talk,’ he said fiercely. ‘Not until I’m sure you’re all right.’

She looked past him, seeing for the first time the white walls, the institutional ceiling lights, the impersonal furnishings of a hospital room.

‘What happened to me? Where…?’ She struggled upward as he let go of her and stepped back from the bed. ‘Don’t leave me.’ Panic threaded her voice. ‘Quinn…’

‘We just want to take a look at you, Mrs Fowler.’ The voice was soft, filled with tones of professional reassurance. It belonged to a woman—a nurse, Paige realised—who smiled as she drew the curtains around the bed. ‘This will only take a minute. Your husband will be just outside.’

Your husband. The phrase was like a lifeline. Paige caught it to her, clung to it while a white-coated physician bent over her.

‘My baby,’ she whispered, and her heart lurched in fear.

‘Your baby’s fine,’ he said finally. She heard the door open, and then the curtains were drawn back. ‘You’re a very lucky young woman.’

‘And very foolish.’ It was Quinn’s voice, stern and cold. ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ he said, and then they were alone.

Paige watched him as he walked towards her. His eyes were dark, his mouth narrow. Anger was etched into his face. Her pulse began to race. What a fool she was! Of course, she’d been dreaming. Quinn was here—that was real enough. But one look told her that he couldn’t have whispered tender endearments to her only moments ago or kissed her as if she were precious to him.

She knew what had happened. She had fainted, and the shop owner had called for an ambulance. The hospital authorities had gone through her bag, found Quinn’s name on the chequebook she no longer used, and called him. As for the rest, none of it had happened. His kisses, his soft words, were things her heart wanted so badly that she’d imagined them. It was like the time she was a little girl and she’d had her appendix out. She’d come out of the anaesthesia slowly, certain her fairy godmother was talking to her. But it had been her mother, urging her to open her eyes and…

Paige turned her face away. She didn’t want to see the darkness in Quinn’s eyes. It was better to remember the dreams that had been hers as she regained consciousness.

He stopped beside the bed and stared down at her. ‘Look at me,’ he demanded.

She turned to him slowly. ‘I… I’m sorry they bothered you,’ she said. ‘I guess I should have disposed of anything with your name on it, but…’

He put his hands on his hips. ‘Have you been in London all these weeks?’

Paige nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Here,’ he said, ‘in the same damned city as me.’

She nodded again. ‘I didn’t ask them to contact you.’

‘Why in hell didn’t you go back to the States?’

‘I…’ She swallowed. ‘I just didn’t.’

One dark eyebrow rose. ‘I asked you a question.’

Because I couldn’t leave you. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

‘You don’t know.’ His voice was flat.

Paige closed her eyes. ‘Does it really matter? I… I’ve decided to go home now. I…’

She heard the hiss of his breath. ‘You’re damned right you’re going home. Now. Just as soon as you’re dressed.’

He was so angry! Tears slipped from beneath her lashes and she wiped her hand across her eyes.

‘… I don’t have the money for a plane ticket, Quinn. I can’t afford…’

‘Come on.’ Her eyes opened as she felt his arm slide around her shoulders.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, even though the answer was obvious. He was sitting her up, drawing back the covers, fumbling at the tie of the ill-fitting hospital gown draped over her. ‘Quinn…’