His Blackmailed Bride

His fingers closed on her hand. ‘I thought I saw something sparkling on your finger. Tell me, Juliet—where is he? Your fiancе, I mean.’

‘He… he’s in the ballroom, waiting for me. He… What are you doing?’ she asked, even though the answer was obvious. He had shrugged free of his dinner jacket and was draping it over her shoulders.

‘You’re cold,’ he said, lifting the curtain of pale hair from her shoulders and settling it over the jacket. ‘Your hand’s like ice.’

‘I’m not,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m fine. I…’

‘Don’t argue with me,’ he said as he drew the lapels together.

No one argued with this man, Paige thought suddenly. No one would dare. His fingers brushed against her skin, his thumbs skimming her throat, lingering against the hollows above her collarbone. She wondered if he could feel the quick leap of blood that pulsed beneath his touch, and a tremor went through her.

‘Maybe I am a little chilly,’ she said, and she gave a forced laugh. ‘It’s cold out here, isn’t it? It’s the ocean, I guess. Although, of course, it’s autumn…’

Damn! She was babbling like a fool. She sounded, she thought, like a nervous schoolgirl. And that was exactly how she felt—like a teenager at her first dance, alone with a boy she had a crush on. But it was a man beside her in the darkness, not a boy, a man whose name she didn’t know. What are you doing here, Paige?

‘Walk with me,’ he said, clasping her hand in his.

‘I can’t,’ she said, but he was already leading her along the path that bordered the garden. ‘Please…’

‘Just for a few minutes.’

She felt as if she were caught in a dream, her only link to reality the faint music drifting from the lighted ballroom. The man beside her was tall, taller than she’d thought. Even in high-heeled sandals, Paige reached only to his shoulder. His jacket hung about her like a cloak, the shoulders and sleeves trailing as if she were a child playing at dressing up. He’d raised the collar when he slipped it around her, and the soft wool brushed against her cheek. It felt warm to the touch, as if it still carried the heat of his body. And she could smell his scent on the fabric, that same cologne she’d noticed earlier, mixed with something much more basic and sensual. It was a clean, masculine odour that was his alone.

For one swift beat of her heart, Paige closed her eyes and breathed it in, letting the smell and the heat of him surround her. Then, with a rush, her lashes flew open. What was she doing? Here she was, traipsing along in the dark beside a man she didn’t know, heart racing, throat dry, never once thinking of Alan or the engagement ring on her finger or the wedding vows she’d take in three days’ time…

His hand clasped hers more tightly. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said softly.

She managed another forced laugh. ‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘I…’

‘You are. I can feel your pulse racing.’ He stopped and turned towards her, his fingers skimming the tender skin on the inside of her wrist. ‘Your heart’s beating like a frightened rabbit’s.’

Paige took a hurried step back. ‘I… I have to go back now,’ she said in a whisper. ‘Thanks for your jacket. Let me…’

His hand tightened on her wrist. ‘Don’t go,’ he said. His voice was low and husky.

Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. ‘I must,’ she said quickly. ‘My fiancе…’

The man shook his head in a gesture of impatience. ‘The hell with your fiancе,’ he said roughly. ‘Stay here, with me.’

His hands cupped her face, tilting it up to him. There was a ring on his finger, an old one, set with a ruby. The blood-red stone captured the pale moonlight and warmed it with a sparkling fire.

She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin. His features were in shadow but Paige knew them, just as she knew that she had known this man since the beginning of for ever, that she had belonged to him in another time, in another eternity. His head bent to hers, and she closed her eyes, waiting, waiting…

There was a sound in the silent darkness. The wind sighing through the trees or a wave building against the shore below—she wasn’t sure—but it was enough to bring her to her senses.

‘I must go back,’ she said, and she pulled away from him. ‘I’m grateful for your help. I… I don’t know what happened to me in there…’

The brave words died as he moved towards her. ‘You know what happened,’ he said.

There was something in his voice, a sense of certainty, that both thrilled and terrified her. She knew that he wasn’t referring to her sudden dizziness. He meant that hushed moment of eternity they had shared—and she wasn’t going to talk about that. Not now, not ever—and certainly not with him.

‘You’re right,’ she said quickly, ‘I do know. I felt sick, that’s all. It was warm in the ballroom. And crowded. And…’

She gasped as his hands slid to her shoulders and bit into her flesh. ‘Don’t lie to me, Juliet.’

‘I’m not lying. I…’

‘I’ve been watching you all evening.’

Her skin tingled beneath the heat of his fingers. ‘What are you talking about?’

He laughed softly. ‘Are we going to play games? You know I’ve been watching you.’

She felt a sudden rush of heat flood her cheeks. Thank God for the darkness, she thought.

‘You’re wrong,’ she said. ‘I…’

His hands clasped her more tightly. ‘You were watching me, too,’ he said, slowly drawing her towards him.

Paige’s denial was swift. ‘I wasn’t. I never noticed you at all until you offered to help me.’

‘Who were you looking for when you came into the ballroom, Juliet?’ She saw the white flash of his teeth. ‘Your fiancе?’

‘Yes, my fiancе,’ she said quickly, grasping the word as if it would save her from whatever might come next, ‘that’s right. And he’s probably looking for me right now. He…’

‘Hell, he should have been with you all evening.’ His hands moved over her shoulders. ‘I’d have been, if you belonged to me.’

‘I don’t belong to anyone. And he was waiting. I mean, I just didn’t see him right away. I…’

He laughed softly. ‘But you saw me.’ His hands slid from her shoulders, down her arms, and encircled her wrists. ‘And then the crowd closed in and I lost sight of you. Is that when your Romeo found you?’

Paige’s lips felt parched. Carefully, she ran the tip of her tongue over them.

‘Yes. And now I really have to go back to him. I…’

‘The next time I saw you, you were dancing with an older man.’ He lifted her hands between them and held them against his chest. ‘It wasn’t Romeo.’

It was a statement, not a question. Despite herself, Paige smiled. ‘No.’

He nodded. ‘Your father, I thought. Or a favourite uncle.’

‘My father,’ she said. ‘I saw you watching us. I…’

The admission was out before she had time to stop it. Any hope Paige had that it might slip by vanished when she heard the stranger’s softly triumphant laugh.

‘But you said you hadn’t noticed me at all, Juliet.’

‘That’s not my name,’ she said desperately. ‘That’s fantasy…’