His Blackmailed Bride

His mouth covered hers as he swept her up into his arms and moved swiftly out of the library and up the stairs. The house swirled around her as it had the night before. Last night, exhausted and frightened, Quinn’s arms had offered solace. Tonight, his embrace was a reminder of what lay ahead. This long climb into darkness would not end in quiet sleep. It would end in the tangle of Quinn’s bed, in the fierceness of his anger and possession.

She cringed as his shoulder slammed against the bedroom door. It flew open, banging against the wall as he strode across the room and lowered her to the bed. His body followed hers, covering her with its hard demand. When he spoke, his voice was a harsh whisper in the darkness.

‘No more games, Paige,’ he whispered. ‘It’s pay-off time.’

He reached across her and switched on the table lamp. Light blazed across them, washing them in cold, white brilliance. Quinn’s hands moved on her with feverish haste, cupping her breasts, tracing the curve of her hip, learning the long line of leg and thigh that lay hidden beneath her velvet dress. The touch that had made her flame with desire only days before now made her cringe in fear.

Her thoughts fled to the only other time she’d lain with a man. It was a memory of pain, of humiliation, of dreams that had died in the face of reality. Nothing could have been worse, she’d thought. But, as Quinn’s body moved roughly against hers, she knew she’d been very wrong.

This was worse. This was a perversion of the spell she’d been under that first night in Quinn’s arms. He’d seized the magic between them and turned it into a weapon to use against her.

She closed her eyes and lay immobile beneath his rough caresses, and finally he lifted his head and stared down at her.

‘Kiss me, damn you,’ he said. ‘Where’s all that fire I remember?’ His hand moved over her again, bruising her flesh. ‘You wanted me when you thought you’d never have to see me again.’ His voice grew rough. ‘What’s the matter, sweet Juliet? Can’t you make it with a man who knows you for what you are?’

‘Do it, and have it done with,’ she whispered.

She turned her face from his and closed her eyes, crying silently, waiting for the nightmare to end. There was silence, and then the squeak of the springs, and suddenly Quinn was standing beside the bed.

‘Look at me, Paige.’ Slowly, unwillingly, she focused her tear-stained eyes on him. A lock of dark hair hung over his forehead. His jacket was in disarray, his shirt opened halfway down his chest. ‘It won’t work,’ he said in a harsh whisper. ‘You think you can reduce me to something less than human, to a man who takes a woman while she lies beneath him in silence.’ His eyes blazed in his pale face. ‘But I won’t accommodate you.’ He bent suddenly and caught her by the shoulders, lifting her roughly towards him. ‘Sooner or later, you’re going to need a man, just the way you did the night we met. And when you do, I’ll be here. I’ll make love to you until you beg me to stop. And then…’

Her eyes fixed on his face. ‘And then?’ she whispered. She didn’t want to hear the rest, but she knew she must.

Quinn’s hands cut into her flesh before he flung her back against the pillow. ‘And then, damn you, I’ll be free of you at last.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

IT WAS amazing how two people living in one small house could avoid each other if they really put their minds to it. The day after he almost raped her, Quinn moved his things to the guest room, and after that Paige saw him hardly at all.

At first, the sound of his footsteps outside her door made the breath catch in her throat. But his pace never faltered. He was gone by the time she came down in the mornings, and he never returned until late—after ten, usually—which made the evening arrangements simple. Paige dined at seven, and at nine she went to her room. On the rare occasions they met in the hall or at the door, he was coldly proper. At least the violence unleashed between them had accomplished something, even if it was only an armed truce.

A week went by, then two. Sometimes, Paige thought it was as if Quinn had forgotten she existed. But that was impossible. He had to be as aware of her presence as she was of his. It couldn’t please him to live this way—trapped, with a stranger, in his own home.

Against her own better judgement, she began to hope for release. Quinn was not a fool; sooner or later, he’d have to admit that this mockery of marriage was pointless, and then he’d set her free. He had to. It was the only thing that made sense. Her hopes grew as the days passed—and then, one morning, they came crashing down around her.

She was hurrying to a lecture at the British Museum. Exploring the city, which had begun as a way to pass the days, had rapidly become a passion. London was a wonderful place, she thought as she buttoned her raincoat. No wonder Quinn had chosen to live here. She could be happy here, too, if only—if only…

‘Mrs Fowler? I’m glad I caught you before you left.’

Paige turned towards the housekeeper in surprise. Norah was far too well-trained to comment on her employer’s sleeping arrangements, but since Quinn had moved into the guest room she’d treated Paige with polite indifference.

‘I’m running late, Norah. Can’t it wait?’

Norah shook her head. ‘It’s about the dinner party on Saturday night.’

Paige looked at the woman blankly. ‘Dinner party?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Will it be a buffet or a sit-down? If you want a sit-down, we’ll need extra help in the dining room. I can arrange it, if you like, but the caterer likes to have a few days’ notice.’

Paige shook her head. ‘I don’t know anything about Mr Fowler’s plans for Saturday,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to ask him.’

‘I did. He said such things were for you to decide. There’ll be six for dinner. Will you want drinks and canapés first, or…’

‘You’ve made an error,’ Paige said stiffly. ‘This has nothing to do with me.’

The housekeeper shook her head. ‘I’ve made no error, ma’am.’ Her eyes met Paige’s. ‘Believe me, Mrs Fowler, I was as surprised as you.’

A flush crept up Paige’s cheeks. ‘Very well, Norah,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll take care of it.’