The judge marrying them cleared his throat. ‘We can improvise,’ he said. ‘Do without, if necessary.’
But Quinn shook his head. ‘Dammit,’ he growled, ‘there must be something we can use.’
There was. Paige drew in her breath and put her hand to her breast. ‘Your ring,’ she murmured.
Quinn misunderstood. ‘I don’t have it any more,’ he said, and his mouth twisted strangely. ‘I seem to have misplaced it.’
She felt the rush of colour to her cheeks as she reached beneath her suit jacket, into the scooped neckline of her silk blouse.
‘You gave it to me,’ she said in a thready whisper.
The ruby against her palm was like a burning ember as she held it out to him on its gold chain. He stared at it for a long moment before slowly lifting his eyes to hers.
‘You’re wearing my ring.’
His voice had a quality that reminded her of grey summer skies on a northern lake. Paige nodded.
‘Yes.’
The silence seemed to hang between them. Then, eyes still on Quinn’s, she put her hands to her head and lifted her hair from her shoulders. She heard the sharp intake of his breath and then he reached behind her and unclasped the chain on which the ruby hung. His hand brushed her breasts as the ring tumbled into his palm, and his fingers closed tightly around it.
‘Place the ring on Miss Gardiner’s finger,’ the judge said, ‘and repeat after me. With this ring…’
Somehow, she managed to smile through the obligatory congratulations. Jim kissed her cheek, the judge shook her hand, and then, finally, she and Quinn were alone, speeding down the roadway to Kennedy Airport. Paige looked down at her hand, at the ruby that seemed to flame on her finger.
She was Quinn Fowler’s wife, she thought dully. His wife.
She slipped the ring from her finger and held it out to him, as if the act would undo the vows he had forced her to take. His eyes moved swiftly from the road to her open palm and the blood-red stone.
‘What am I supposed to do with that?’ he asked.
‘It’s your ring. I thought you’d want it back.’
‘Keep it,’ he said gruffly. ‘It has no meaning to me any more.’
Angry tears filled her eyes. God, how he hated her! She wanted to throw the ring at him—but something within her, nameless and only half glimpsed, stopped her. Her hands trembled as she looped the gold chain through the ring and hung it around her neck.
They said nothing more until they were settled in the first-class lounge at the airport. Quinn asked for a telephone and then turned to Paige.
‘We have some calls to make,’ he said. ‘Can you manage to say the right things, or must I write a script for you?’
She looked at him. ‘Calls? To whom?’
‘To our families. Mine and yours. And Alan.’
His arrogance stunned her. ‘Alan?’ she repeated, her voice registering disbelief. ‘But what will you say to him?’
Quinn’s mouth curled in a tight smile. ‘It’s what he says to me that matters, Paige. Don’t worry—I’ll handle it.’
She gave him a cool look. ‘I don’t care if you handle it or not, Quinn. It’s Alan I’m concerned about. He’s bound to be hurting after what’s happened.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘It was going to happen anyway, Paige. The first story you gave me was that you weren’t going ahead with the wedding.’ His voice was soft, his sarcasm thinly veiled. ‘Or was I mistaken?’
‘But that’s different. Changing my mind isn’t the same as… as this.’
Quinn shrugged. ‘I don’t want Alan turning up on my doorstep,’ he said roughly. ‘I’d rather get everything settled now.’
She curled deeper into the leather couch, watching as he dialled, waiting for the explosion from the other end. But, when it came, it wasn’t what she’d expected. She could tell, from Quinn’s side of the conversation, that his parents were more upset by what their guests might have thought than by the emotional toll of the day’s events on either of their sons. Quinn spoke to them politely but not defensively. He apologised for any embarrassment he might have caused them, explaining that what had happened between Paige and himself was inevitable. It was as if the subject under discussion involved a breach of etiquette, but nothing more than that.