Читать книгу His Blackmailed Bride - Сандра Мартон, Sandra Marton - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

‘PAIGE? Paige, have you seen that spray of silk baby’s breath I was going to sew on to your headdress?’

Paige, who had been rummaging in her wardrobe for the mate to the silver pump she held in her hand, sat back on her heels and sighed.

‘No, Mother,’ she called. ‘But I wouldn’t worry about it. The headdress looks lovely just as it is.’

Janet Gardiner stepped into her daughter’s room and poked through the lacy garments strewn across the dresser.

‘Did I mix it into this lingerie by mistake?’ she muttered, and then she sighed and answered her own question. ‘No, there’s nothing here but lingerie for your trousseau.’ The older woman looked at her daughter. ‘Haven’t you finished packing, dear? The wedding’s tomorrow, and you and Alan will have to leave for the airport by five, the latest.’

Paige rose to her feet. ‘There’s plenty of time, Mother. I’ll do the rest tonight, after we get back from the rehearsal dinner.’ A frown creased her forehead. ‘If we get to it in the first place,’ she said, tossing the silver shoe on the bed. ‘I can’t find the mate to this anywhere.’

‘Isn’t that… yes, there it is,’ her mother said, plucking the missing pump from the floor. She looked around the room, smiling at the open suitcases and wardrobes. ‘I’m going to miss all this,’ she said softly.

Paige laughed as she slipped the shoes on her feet. ‘Miss this mess? Come on, Mother. I know you—you can hardly wait to get at this room and clean it.’

Janet Gardiner smiled. ‘You know what I mean, dear. I’m going to miss opening the door and finding you here.’ She watched as her daughter smoothed down the skirt of her long blue dress and peered critically at her reflection in the mirror. ‘It’s hard to believe you’ll be Mrs Alan Fowler by this time tomorrow.’

For a fragile moment, Paige’s features clouded, and then she returned her mother’s smile.

‘Look on the bright side, Mother. You’ll be able to turn my bedroom back into a guest room again.’

The older woman laughed. ‘It was never anything but your bedroom, Paige, even when you lived in New York City.’ She started from the room, then turned and popped her head into the doorway. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked softly.

Paige nodded. There was a sudden lump in her throat, and she didn’t trust herself to try and say anything in return. Instead, she smiled and blew a kiss to her mother, and then she turned away, snatched up the stack of lingerie from the dresser, and put it into one of the open suitcases. When she glanced up again, her mother was gone.

The tremulous smile faded and she sank to the edge of the bed that had been hers since childhood. Tears hung on her lashes and she blinked them back angrily. No more tears, she told herself. She had done enough weeping the past two days to last a lifetime. All brides were edgy—everyone said so—and some were tearful, but God only knew what Alan’s family thought of her after the other night. She’d shaken a lot of hands at the Fowler home after they’d left the Hunt Club, and kissed a lot of cheeks, and she’d kept wondering if her smile felt as forced as it looked, until finally Alan had put his arm around her, announced that his bride-to-be was exhausted, and taken her home.

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he’d asked when they reached her house.

And Paige had nodded and smiled and assured him that she was fine. ‘I’m just tired,’ she’d said briskly. ‘That’s all.’

What else could she have said? she thought now as she sat in her bedroom and stared blindly at the pink and white papered wall ahead. Could she have told him she’d almost given herself to a nameless stranger on a windswept beach? All the time she’d been smiling at Alan’s relatives, she’d been thinking about the man, wondering if his heart was as filled with anguish as hers. Was he cursing the cruelty of a Fate that had brought them together and then torn them apart? Or had he just gone back to the clubhouse and found another woman who’d gone willingly into the night with him, a woman he’d whispered to and caressed, a woman he’d made love to as he’d almost made love to her.

That was the most likely script of all. He’d been looking for an adventure, and he’d found her. She’d made a fool of herself with a stranger, and she should have been grateful it had gone no further than a few moonlight kisses.

Then why was her heart so filled with longing, her dreams so filled with a man whose eyes were the colour of the sea?

‘Paige!’ Startled, she looked up. ‘Alan will be here soon,’ her mother said from the doorway. ‘And you’re not half ready.’

She smiled brightly. ‘I will be, Mother. You’ll see.’

Her mother laughed. ‘That’s what you used to say when you were just a little girl.’ She hurried across the room and gave her daughter a quick hug, and then she dabbed briskly at her eyes. ‘I’m going to ruin my make-up if I keep this up. And then I’ll have to redo it, and your father will be furious.’ She paused in the doorway and smiled. ‘We’re going to miss you, dear. It’s been lovely, having you live with us this past year.’

Paige met her mother’s eyes in the mirror. ‘I’ve been happy here, too.’

Her smile faded as her mother left the room and closed the door behind her. Her mother always made it sound as if she’d simply decided, on impulse, to move back to Connecticut from New York a year ago, but it hadn’t been that simple. She’d come home unannounced, the taste of freedom bitter in her mouth. A taxi had taken her from the railway station in Greenwich to the grey-shingled house she’d grown up in. She could still remember taking out her key to open the door, then hesitating, remembering suddenly that she’d not lived here for the past four years, not since she’d turned twenty and finished business school. Slowly, she’d dropped the key back into her shoulder bag, and then she’d rung the doorbell.

Janet Gardiner had answered the door, her face showing first delighted surprise and then worried concern as she became aware of her daughter’s drawn features. But she’d acted as if Paige’s presence were nothing but an unexpected pleasure, bustling her out of her coat and into the kitchen, setting another place at the old oak table before the fireplace, keeping up a line of chatter designed to put her daughter at ease. Her father had arrived home late from the office. To Paige’s surprise, he’d hardly seemed to notice her.

‘Paige has come for a visit,’ her mother said, her eyebrows raised in warning that he ask no questions of their only child.

But her father seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to do anything more than mumble a few words.

‘That’s nice,’ he said, and then he went off to his study and left the two women to themselves.

‘Is something wrong with Father?’ Paige asked.

‘Nothing more than the usual,’ her mother said patiently. ‘You know how he is—there’s always some pie-in-the-sky scheme hatching in his head that’s going to make him an instant millionaire.’

Paige shook her head. ‘Poor Daddy. What was it last time? Gold mines or something?’

Mrs Gardiner smiled wearily. ‘Or something. I’ll never understand how a man who handles money for a firm like Fowlers’ can have such bad judgement with his own.’ She sighed. ‘After the last disaster, I made him promise he wouldn’t touch our savings again.’

Paige smiled. ‘Does he still say, “no risk, no gain”?’

‘Yes. And I told him that was all right as long as you could afford to lose the money you risked.’ Her mother laughed. ‘Let him squander his cigar money, if it makes him happy. He’s a good man, darling, he just thinks we need more—that he’s less a man, somehow, because he hasn’t been able to give us the moon. I mean, it’s not as if he drank or didn’t love me…’ Her eyebrows rose as Paige’s face suddenly crumpled. ‘Sweetheart, what is it?’

And Paige told her. Not everything; it had all been too recent and too painful. But she told her mother enough. How she’d met someone, thought she was in love, succumbed to her own burgeoning sexuality and found disappointment instead of fulfilment. In one brief encounter, she’d lost both her innocence and her desire.

‘And the man?’ Her mother touched her hand.

‘He said I wasn’t a woman. He said…’

Her mother put her arms around her. ‘Forget about him,’ she said fiercely. ‘A man like that…’ Janet Gardiner had looked at her for a long moment, and then she’d smiled. ‘I have a wonderful idea,’ she’d said, and then she’d made the suggestion that had been destined to change Paige’s life. ‘Why don’t you move back here for a while? You could commute into the city, if you really want to keep that job of yours.’

‘Or I could look for one right here in Greenwich,’ Paige had said, too quickly, and both women had laughed, Paige with tears glistening in her eyes. ‘I was hoping you’d ask me to stay.’

Her mother had patted her hand. ‘This is your home, Paige. Of course we want you to stay. And you’ll put all this behind you, believe me.’

And she had, Paige thought, staring blindly at the mirror that hung on the wall opposite her bed. First had come the job at Maywalk’s department store. And then her father had begun playing Cupid, inviting his boss’s son home to dinner, urging her to accept Alan’s invitations, mixing together business and social occasions so that she was in Alan’s company even when she wasn’t dating him.

Not that she hadn’t liked him—no one would ever dislike Alan Fowler, with his looks and his charm. And if there were no sparks when he kissed her—well, that was all the better, wasn’t it? Compatibility and respect were the soils in which love grew. Passion? Passion was for the movies and for books. It was overrated and oversold, and what she’d experienced of it was enough to last her a lifetime.

Until two nights ago. Until she’d behaved like a… a wanton with a man who’d probably disappeared into the night.

And thank goodness he had, she thought as she brushed furiously at her pale blonde hair. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him again. As for the emotions he’d unleashed—she’d learn to feel all that, and more, with Alan. He would be her husband and she’d learn to want his kisses and caresses.

There was a soft tap at the door. ‘Alan’s here,’ her mother said brightly. ‘Ready, dear?’

Paige took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I’m ready,’ she said, and she told herself that she finally was.

The rehearsal dinner as well as the wedding were to be held at the Fowler home. Paige’s mother had protested at first, saying that it was the bride’s family who should make the wedding, but Alan’s mother had been pleasantly but firmly insistent. Alan had urged Paige to go along with his mother’s plans. ‘It’s easier to go along with Mother once she has a bee in her bonnet,’ he’d said with a wry smile.

But, in the end, it was Paige’s father who’d forced the decision.

‘Let the Fowlers do it all,’ he’d said. ‘They’re the ones with the money.’ Paige had looked at him in surprise, and he’d given her a quick smile that had barely softened the harshness of his words. ‘I only meant that it’s foolish to argue.’ In the end, Paige and her mother had agreed.

Now, standing in the Fowlers’ impressive sitting room, gazing around her at the milling crowd, Paige was glad they had. It looked as if half the world was present—or half Connecticut and New York, anyway.

‘If the Fowlers invited so many people to the rehearsal dinner, just imagine how many there’ll be at the wedding tomorrow,’ she whispered to her mother. ‘I don’t think I recognise a dozen faces!’

‘Don’t worry about a thing, dear. Just smile and say “thank you” and “no, thank you” in all the right places.’

Paige laughed. ‘I won’t let Alan out of my sight, once he shows up.’

‘Shows up, indeed. Where’s he gone to?’

‘The airport. I only half heard the story. Some last-minute arrival’s just come in, and apparently Alan was so delighted to hear about it that he decided to fetch him himself.’

‘The mysterious brother, perhaps?’

Paige shrugged. ‘Maybe. All I know is I’ve been left here to hold down the fort. Believe me,’ she laughed, ‘Alan’s going to pay for… oh, God!’

The words were a choked whisper. Her mother turned to her in surprise.

‘Paige? What is it? You’re white as a sheet.’

‘I… nothing. Nothing. I just…’

Paige could hear herself stammering, saying words that made no sense. But it was a miracle she could speak at all, she thought, staring across the crowded room. He was here. The stranger, the man she’d let make love to her two nights before—he was here, a guest in the Fowler home, a guest at her rehearsal dinner. He hadn’t seen her yet; he was standing at the far end of the room, alone, holding a glass in his hand. She watched as someone stopped beside him—a woman, young, lovely, her face tilted smilingly up to his. He nodded, said something, but there was no answering smile. The woman spoke again, saying something else, but he seemed to be barely listening.

‘Paige, will you please answer me? What’s wrong?’

She drew her gaze from him and looked at her mother. ‘I… nothing,’ she said carefully. ‘I just thought I saw… I saw someone I went to school with, that’s all. Someone I… I never dreamed I’d see again.’ Smile, she told herself fiercely. But, when she did, her lips felt glued to her teeth.

Her mother put her hand to her heart and laughed. ‘You gave me quite a start, dear. I thought you’d seen a ghost. Well, why don’t you go over and say hello? I’ll just go find Mrs Fowler.’ She laughed again. ‘Maybe our handful of guests has shown up and we won’t feel so outnumbered.’

‘Yes, fine. I’ll just… I’ll find you in a few minutes, Mother.’

By then, I’ll have thought up some excuse for leaving… But that would only postpose the inevitable. If he was here tonight, it was likely he’d be at the wedding tomorrow. What to do, what to do? What if she simply walked up to him, offered her apologies for her disreputable behaviour? What if she begged for his silence, for his understanding…

He’d seen her! Paige’s heart stood still. Everything around her faded as the man’s eyes met hers. His face grew dark, his lips narrow. The woman beside him was still talking, still smiling, and suddenly he shoved his glass into her hand and brushed past her. Paige knew, as surely as she knew he was coming straight for her, that he would never accept either her apologies or her pleas for understanding.

But he wouldn’t make a scene, not in front of all these people. No, she told herself, no, he wouldn’t… She watched as he moved rapidly through the crowd, rudely shouldering people out of his way if they didn’t step aside quickly enough. His eyes were locked on her face, unwavering pools of icy fire. The first image she’d had of him returned to her, and her pulse began to race. Tonight, the lion had no intention of waiting for the wildebeest to come near. He was the killer—and she was his prey.

How could she have let herself think he wouldn’t make a scene? He was capable of anything—her heart thudded into her throat and she turned wildly and began to run. She heard a peal of nervous laughter as she spun past surprised faces. She thought fleetingly of how impossible it was going to be to try and explain this to Alan. But she had seen the savagery in the stranger’s eyes, and all that mattered at this moment was getting away from him. She fled from the sitting room, into the darkness of the rest of the house, trying to remember where the rear door led.

He caught her just as she was halfway through it. She tried to slam the door in his face, but he was far too strong for her. The door glanced off his shoulder, and then he was past it, reaching for her, grasping her by the shoulders with hands that bit into her flesh like talons.

‘Let go of me!’ she gasped, trying to twist free of him. ‘Damn you…’

He kicked the door closed. ‘Did you really think you could get away from me?’ His voice was low and filled with rage.

‘I told you to let go of me. How dare you treat me like this? I…’

‘Shut up,’ he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders.

She struggled against him as he began to draw her away from the house. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she demanded. ‘I…’

‘I’m taking you to the summer house,’ he said grimly, half lifting her dragging feet from the ground. ‘I don’t need a whole damned houseful of people out here staring at me.’

‘It’s a little late to worry about that, don’t you think? A few minutes ago…’

‘You’re the one who ran,’ he said, pulling her up the wooden steps that led into the trellised gazebo that stood far

to the rear of the Fowler lawn.

‘Of course I ran. You looked as if you… as if you…’

He grasped her shoulders with a roughness that made her gasp. ‘As if what?’ he growled, staring down at her.

Paige swallowed drily. The trees scattered about the lawn had been strung with coloured lights for the party, mottling his face with reds, blues, and yellows.

‘As if… as if you wanted to kill me,’ she whispered finally.

His mouth twisted. ‘I thought about it, believe me. The other night, when I finally let myself believe you’d left…’

‘Look, about that—about the other night…’

His eyes darkened. ‘Did you have a good time playing with me, Juliet?’

Colour flooded her cheeks. ‘You’re a fine one to talk about games,’ she hissed. ‘I wasn’t the one who started things. It was you…’

The words caught in her throat as he shook her. ‘I waited on that godforsaken beach for an hour, damn you! And then I went back to the clubhouse—and you weren’t there.’ His hands slid from her shoulders and a weariness crept into his voice. ‘I couldn’t even ask anybody where you’d gone—hell, I didn’t even know your name.’

Paige ran her tongue over her lips. ‘I… I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t mean…’

She flinched as he spun towards her. ‘Didn’t you? Then what the hell was all that about, Juliet?’ He caught her by the arms and stared into her eyes. ‘Or is that just something you do when you go to parties, hmm? Have a drink, have a canapé, have a dance—and then go off with some man and drive him half out of his mind with wanting you and…’

‘Don’t you dare talk that way to me! You have no right.’

‘Don’t I? You made a fool out of me. You…’

‘I tried to tell you it was no good, but you wouldn’t listen. I kept saying I had to go back to my fiancé, but you… you…’

To her horror, Paige felt tears fill her eyes and begin to slide down her cheeks. It was bad enough that he’d made a fool of her the other night; she didn’t have to let this man reduce her to tears. Quickly, she brushed the back of her hand across her lashes and turned away.

‘Just let go of me,’ she whispered.

‘And where the hell do you think you’re going now?’

‘Let go of me. Please.’

His hands moved gently to her shoulders, and he turned her stiff, unyielding body towards his.

‘Don’t cry,’ he said fiercely. ‘Dammit, Juliet…’

Paige lifted her face to him, the tears glistening damply on her lashes, and with a whispered oath, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was a kiss that told her, more clearly than words, that his torment these past days had been as great as hers. There was passion in it and desire, there was anger and tenderness—but underlying all there was an awareness that this one kiss would not, could not, be enough.

‘Juliet, Juliet,’ he murmured against her lips, ‘why didn’t you come back to me?’

Her arms slid around his neck. ‘I couldn’t,’ she whispered. ‘I couldn’t… and I can’t stay with you now.’

His arms tightened around her. ‘Don’t say that,’ he growled. She moaned as his hand moved over her, cupping the fullness of her breast, sliding across her hip, curving across her buttocks. ‘I’m not letting you go,’ he said against her throat. ‘Not this time.’

He moved her against him, bringing her body tightly against his, and she felt the heated strength of him press into her.

‘You must,’ she whispered. ‘Please. My fiancé…’

He laughed throatily. ‘Are we going to talk about him again? What kind of man is he, this fiancé of yours?’ His hand moved over her, possessively, claiming each curve. ‘You don’t want him, Juliet. You know you don’t.’

Paige closed her eyes. ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘Not… not this way. But…’

‘He’s never made you feel like this, Juliet.’ His lips moved along her cheek, to her throat. ‘Spend the night with me,’ he whispered. ‘Let me show you how it can be with us.’

‘I can’t, don’t you understand? It’s too late. My fiancé…’

He drew back and looked down at her. ‘What is it like when you’re with him?’

Paige’s cheeks flamed. ‘I… I…’

He lifted her left hand and brought it to his lips. ‘Is it like that diamond you wear? Is the fire locked away inside the cold stone?’

‘You mustn’t say things like that. He…’

‘I’m only telling you what we both know,’ he said. His hands slipped from her shoulders. The party lights danced on the ruby ring he wore, and she watched as he slipped it from his fingers. ‘Give me your hand.’ Her eyes scanned his face and then, slowly, she did as he’d asked. He took her hand in his and placed the ring on her palm. ‘A man who would give you a diamond doesn’t really want you, Juliet,’ he said softly.

Paige stared at the ring he’d given her. The ruby glowed against her skin like a burning coal, its antique setting intricate and exquisite. She looked from it to him and shook her head.

‘I… I don’t understand.’

‘You’re like the blood ruby in that ring,’ he said softly, cupping her face in his hands and raising it to his. ‘Rare, precious, burning with passionate life.’ Her eyes closed as his mouth took hers. When he raised his head again, his eyes were dark. ‘Keep the ring. Look into it tonight, into the flame that blazes in its heart, and think of me and of how it will be when we’re together.’ His hand closed over hers, and she felt the heat of the ruby sear her palm. ‘Cherish the flame in your dreams, Juliet, and tomorrow, when I see you again…’

‘Tomorrow,’ she repeated, as if he were speaking an unknown language.

‘The wedding. You’ll be there, won’t you?’

‘I… yes, yes, I’ll be there.’

‘We’ll spend the day together,’ he said, and he smiled at her. ‘We’ll do all the things people do when they first meet. We’ll talk and we’ll joke…’ The smile faded, and he put his arms around her. ‘And then I’ll take you in my arms and I’ll kiss you, like this.’ His lips moved slowly, teasingly, over hers. ‘And then I’ll ask you to come with me. And…’

Tomorrow!

‘Please,’ Paige said desperately, ‘you’ve got to listen. I…’

‘If you tell me “no”, I’ll go away and you’ll never see me again.’ His arms tightened as he gathered her closer. ‘But you won’t,’ he said, his voice a whisper that slid along her skin. ‘You won’t, Juliet. You’ll look into my eyes and say you want me to make love to you.’

‘You don’t understand. Tomorrow…’

There was the sound of a door slamming closed, and then a whistle pierced the night.

‘Hey, are you guys out here?’

Dear God! It was Alan. Paige’s heart began to race. ‘You’ve got to get out of here,’ she hissed. ‘Please!’

‘Paige? Where are you, sweetheart?’

‘Don’t you hear me? Dammit—that’s Alan. That’s my fiancé…’

The man’s eyes darkened, narrowed, until they were pinpoints of cobalt fire. His hands grasped her shoulders, his fingers biting into her until she gasped with pain.

‘I tried to tell you,’ she whispered. ‘I…’

The look on his face silenced her. ‘I ought to kill you,’ he said softly. ‘Jesus, I’d like to put my hands around your throat and…’

There was a clatter of footsteps on the gazebo stairs, and an arm slid around her waist.

‘There you are, sweetheart,’ Alan said, smiling at her. Paige’s eyes widened as he threw his other arm loosely around the stranger’s neck. ‘Terrific!’ he said happily. ‘I see you two have already met. Well, Quinn, what do you think of her? What does my big brother have to say about my blushing bride?’