Sandra Marton - His Blackmailed Bride

‘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?’

CHAPTER FOUR

WEDDING days were supposed to be storybook perfect. Blue skies, bright sun, not a cloud in the sky. And that was the way this one had dawned, Paige thought as she stood looking out her bedroom window. The few remaining leaves on the old maple tree gleamed gold and scarlet. When she was little, she’d loved to scramble into the tree’s low, curving branches and sit safely hidden from the world in its leafy embrace.

If only she could do that now—climb into the maple and put her arms around the rough, scarred wood, hide there until this terrible day was over. But she wasn’t a child any more, and there was no escaping reality. Paige sighed and took the last, bitter sip from a cup of cold coffee. The only thing she could hope for now was a modicum of kindness from Alan. He hadn’t called yet, but he would—after Quinn had told him everything.

Somehow, she’d lived through last night, through the awful moment at the gazebo, murmuring some nonsense about the surprise of meeting Quinn at last, all the while waiting for him to denounce her. But he’d been silent, watching her with a terrifying intensity, then muttering some polite phrases similar to hers. Alan had smiled and then they’d all returned to the house together, Alan walking happily between them.

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