His Blackmailed Bride

Rediscover this reader favorite by Sandra Marton, originally published as Cherish the Flame.

Paige’s first encounter with brooding millionaire Quinn Fowler ignited a searing flame between them—and ended any possibility of a quiet marriage to Quinn’s brother Alan.

Quinn is suspicious of Paige’s motives, but he can’t help but be drawn to her. The best way to get her away from his brother becomes obvious: he must claim her as his own bride!

Married to a man who loathes her, but whose touch she craves, Paige has never felt more alone. But Quinn has been hiding the truth—that their first meeting indelibly marked him as hers…

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE ALL HALLOWS’ EVE MASQUERADE BALL was in full swing the first time Paige Gardiner saw him. He was leaning against the far wall of the Hunt Club ballroom, watching the gyrating devils and black cats on the crowded dance floor. There was a dangerous look about him, a leanly muscled power that was disturbing, and Paige thought suddenly of a lion in the tall grass, waiting for a herd of wildebeest to move just a bit closer.

‘Paige, for heaven’s sake, haven’t you spotted Alan yet? We can’t just stand here, blocking the doorway all evening.’

Paige blinked and looked at her mother. ‘Sorry,’ she said, giving her a quick smile. ‘I’m trying to find him, Mother. I just can’t seem to…’

‘Of course you can’t. There must be a dozen Romeos here tonight.’ Her mother sighed and brushed a lock of Paige’s pale blonde hair back from her face. ‘And a dozen Juliets, of course. But none as beautiful as you, dear.’

Paige smiled. ‘And no Romeos as handsome as my fiancé,’ she said. ‘That’s why he’ll be easy to find.’

But he wasn’t. She frowned behind the anonymity of her delicate silver mask as her violet eyes searched the crowded room. There was, indeed, an over-abundance of Romeos, and from this distance they all looked very much alike. Still, Alan was special. He was the man she was engaged to marry. She’d be able to pick him out from all the rest.

There he was again, the man she’d seen when she entered the ballroom. He was looking through the glass doors at the club’s formal gardens. His back was to her now, but Paige knew it was he. She recognised the defiant set of his shoulders beneath his dinner jacket, and the too-proud angle of his head.

He turned suddenly, and his eyes, behind his narrow black mask, locked with hers. The ballroom, the dancers, the music—all of it spun away.

‘Paige?’ Her father’s hand closed around her arm. ‘Paige, isn’t that Alan?’

An eternity seemed to pass before she could look away from the man and turn towards her father.

‘Where?’ she asked, and he nodded towards a nearby Romeo. ‘I… I’m not certain,’ she said, and colour rushed into her cheeks. Ridiculous, she thought. She’d been dating Alan Fowler for almost a year and she’d been engaged to him for three weeks. Surely she could recognise him, even in costume. ‘Alan?’ she said tentatively. ‘Is that you?’ To Paige’s great relief, the Romeo turned and smiled.

‘There you are, sweetheart.’ She smiled in return as he took her hands in his and kissed her cheek. ‘You look positively beautiful, Juliet.’

‘You look pretty good yourself, Romeo,’ she said, and she smiled again. ‘Is it my imagination, or is every pair of eyes in the room on us?’

Alan grinned as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. ‘It’s a possibility,’ he said. ‘Mother’s out-of-town guests have been arriving by the carload all day long. In fact, Aunt Dorothy was asking about you only a few minutes ago. Want to meet her?’

‘Not yet,’ Paige said so quickly that everyone laughed.

‘Paige is nervous about meeting all your relatives,’ Paige’s mother said as she brushed an imaginary speck of lint from her daughter’s gown.

‘It just doesn’t seem like the best way to do it, that’s all,’ Paige murmured. ‘You know, at a costume ball, with so much going on all at once.’

Janet Gardiner sighed. ‘There’s not much choice, with the wedding only three days off.’

Alan laughed. ‘Mother thinks it’s terrific. She must have rented a dozen costumes and…’ He looked down at Paige as she shuddered lightly. ‘Are you cold, sweetheart? Here,’ he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders, ‘is that better?’

Paige nodded. ‘Much,’ she said brightly. ‘I just felt a chill, that’s all.’

Three days, she thought, as Alan turned towards her father and began to discuss a business matter. Three days, and she would be Mrs Alan Fowler. It seemed impossible. A month ago she’d been content, dating Alan as she had been for months, turning aside his proposals which had become so frequent she hardly noticed them. But then, there had been that one evening when he put his finger to her lips before she could refuse him.

‘Don’t say no this time, Paige,’ he’d pleaded. ‘How about something different? Tell me you’ll think it over until tomorrow.’

‘I won’t be here tomorrow,’ she’d said. ‘Remember? Maywalk’s is sending me on my first buying trip this week. I won’t be back until Friday.’

Alan had grinned. ‘Even better. I’ll have a whole week to hope—and you’ll have a whole week to think of a reason not to say “yes”.’

And Paige had smiled and agreed. After all, she owed him that much. Alan was sweet and charming, and she knew that the women he’d dated before would give anything to change places with her. Their dates always ended with chaste goodnight kisses, but that didn’t seem to deter him. If anything, her refusals to make their relationship more intimate seemed only to spur him into a more determined pursuit. What harm could there be in letting five days go by before telling him ‘no’ one more time?

But, when she’d returned that Friday, her mother had embraced her and said tearfully, ‘I’m so happy for you, dear. But you should have told us yourself.’ And while Paige was still trying to make sense out of that, her father had kissed her and told her he was glad she’d finally decided to take his advice and marry Alan.

‘I’ve been telling you he’s the right man for months,’ he’d said. ‘I’m glad you finally came to your senses, girl.’

And Alan—Alan had flashed his sheepish, charming grin and admitted he’d got carried away, that he’d mentioned what she’d said, but only to her parents and his, and…

‘What do you mean, you mentioned what I’d said?’ Paige had demanded angrily. ‘I didn’t say anything, Alan. You asked me to wait, to think things over…’

Alan had said yes, he knew that, but what was there to think about, really? They liked each other, they had fun together, and he would give her a secure, happy life.

‘Don’t be angry with me, sweetheart,’ he’d murmured.

His expression had been so apologetic that Paige’s anger had fallen away. ‘I’m not angry. It’s just that…’ She’d touched her hand gently to his cheek. ‘You must know that I don’t love you, Alan. Well, I mean, I love you, but I’m not in love with you. Do you understand? You deserve more from a wife than I can give you.’

Alan knew what she meant. He’d taken her in his arms a dozen times, waiting patiently for her to respond to his caresses, assuring her it was all right when she didn’t.

‘I want you,’ he’d said simply, smiling into her eyes. ‘As for the rest—it will come in time. You’ll see.’

Embarrassment coloured her cheeks, but her gaze had never wavered. ‘Alan, what if I don’t? What if…’

The look on his face had told her he couldn’t imagine such a thing happening.

‘I’d still love you, of course,’ he’d said, and then he’d grinned boyishly. ‘But there’s no danger of that. I won’t fail you, Paige. You’ll see.’

‘Alan,’ Paige had said, wanting to tell him it wasn’t his failure she was concerned about, but he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her again, and when finally she’d pushed him gently from her the door had swung open and his mother had entered the room.

‘Paige, we’re so pleased,’ she’d said. ‘I hope you don’t mind—I’ve spoken to the caterer—I thought perhaps we’d have a champagne breakfast, with quail and lobster.’

And after that, Paige thought as Alan led her to the dance floor, after that, everything had moved far too quickly. Alan’s father wanted him to head up the South American branch of the firm, which meant that the wedding that had been planned for next June was moved back to November, and the long engagement Paige had anticipated had become one of the shortest on record. Three days, she thought again, as his arms slipped around her, three days…

‘Hey,’ Alan said gently, ‘come back, Paige.’

Paige looked up at him and shook her head. ‘Sorry. I was just thinking—I can’t believe the wedding day’s so soon.’

He drew back and grinned down at her. ‘It’s too late to get out of it. What would Aunt Dorothy think?’

Paige gave him a quick smile. ‘That I was silly to give you up.’

Alan laughed as he spun her across the dance floor. ‘That she’d been done out of the chance to attend the party of the year. Aunt Dorothy and Mother spent half the morning talking about Mother’s plans for the wedding.’

‘Only half the morning? I’d think our wedding deserved more than that.’

‘It did. Aunt Dorothy spent the rest of the time giving me the benefit of her experience.’

Paige laughed. ‘Is she an expert?’

‘In a way.’ He grinned and drew her closer. ‘The old girl’s been married three times. I’ll probably have to listen to more advice from my big brother, too.’

She laughed again. ‘Don’t tell me he’s been married three times.’

Alan chuckled. ‘Quinn? Not likely. No woman’s ever going to catch him.’

‘Terrific,’ Paige said teasingly. ‘What kind of advice can you get from someone like that?’

‘A speech that starts, “You’ve got to be crazy to do this, old man”. You know, the usual “I’m older and wiser” nonsense big brothers always give.’

‘And when do I get to meet this paragon?’ Paige asked, tilting her head to the side and smiling at her fiancé.

‘As soon as he gets here. He’s due tomorrow, but with Quinn you never know. He…’

‘Alan, you don’t mind if I dance with my daughter, do you?’

Paige looked up as Alan let go of her and her father took her into his arms.

‘Of course not, sir. Paige, sweetheart, I’ll get us some champagne, OK? I’ll be back in a minute.’

Her father cleared his throat as Paige settled into his arms. ‘Your mother’s worried about you,’ he said without any preliminaries. ‘She sent me to ask if everything was all right.’

Paige looked at Andrew Gardiner in surprise. ‘What do you mean, Father?’

‘She says you’ve been acting as if you were a million miles away.’ The music changed to an old-fashioned waltz and her father guided her across the floor. ‘I told her it was just last-minute jitters.’

Paige nodded. ‘I guess.’

Her father peered into her face. ‘Alan is right for you, Paige. He’s a fine young man. I’ve got to know him during the years I’ve worked for his father, and…’

It was the same speech her father had been making for months, ever since she had let slip the fact that Alan had proposed.

‘Father,’ she said gently, ‘you can relax. I’m marrying him, remember? I finally took your advice.’

Her father looked at her. ‘I only want what’s best for all of us.’

Paige laughed. ‘All of us? I’m the one who’s getting married, not you.’

‘It’s just a figure of speech, child. You know what I mean—if you’re happy, your mother and I are happy.’ Her father smiled at her. ‘You are happy, aren’t you?’

Paige nodded. Of course she was. Alan was, as her father had insisted, a fine man, and she did love him—in a way. And, if that was enough for him, it was enough for her. It was more than enough for her, she told herself as her father waltzed her around the dance floor. She’d had her taste of what everyone called the great passion, and she knew it for the fiction it was. She’d tried to tell that to Alan the day they’d become engaged, but he hadn’t given her the chance. And it was just as well. Perhaps he could teach her heart to soar and her pulse to sing. And if he couldn’t, then his pleasure would give her pleasure. That would be enough. It might even be best. It would…

A chill danced across her shoulders. Someone was watching her; she knew it without question, just as she knew who it was. The strange man she’d noticed an eternity ago—it had to be him. She could sense his presence, feel his power.

Paige drew closer into her father’s arms. He smiled at her and she smiled back, but her eyes swept the room. Her breath caught in her throat. Yes, yes, there he was, standing on the perimeter of the dance floor, his jacket open, revealing a taut expanse of white silk shirt that clung to his chest as if it were a second skin. His hands were tucked into his trouser pockets and the material strained across his thighs. He was balanced on legs slightly apart, and his head was cocked to the side—and he was watching her. Behind the black mask, his eyes were fixed on her, burning into her, stripping her of the long, silk gown, moving now to the full curve of her breasts, watching their all too rapid rise and fall above the low-cut neckline.

Paige stumbled and her father’s arms tightened around her.

‘Paige? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ she said quickly. ‘Nothing,’ she repeated, tearing her eyes from the man and looking at her father. ‘I just—I must be tired.’

Her father nodded. ‘It’s been a busy week for you.’ He looked into her eyes and frowned. ‘Would you like to sit down?’

He’ll come to you if you do. You know he will…

A tremor went through her. ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I… I want to dance with you, Father. Really. I…’ She swallowed and then ran her tongue across her dry lips. ‘That man,’ she said, her voice a breathy whisper, ‘I wondered—do you know who he is?’

‘Which man?’

‘That one, over there,’ she said urgently, taking a few steps so that her father had to turn around and look in the direction she’d been facing. ‘The tall one, beside the dance floor.’

‘Which man?’ her father repeated. ‘What kind of costume is he wearing?’

‘He’s not in costume,’ Paige said, looking over her shoulder. ‘He…’

He was gone. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for him, but he had disappeared. Her heart was racing as if she’d been running instead of dancing, and it seemed suddenly hard to breathe.

Andrew Gardiner grasped his daughter by the shoulders and held her steady.

‘What is it? Do you feel ill?’

I don’t know how I feel. Excited. Exhilarated. Terrified…

Paige drew a deep breath. ‘I… I think it’s time I went to the ladies’ room and checked my make-up,’ she said. She smiled, and the wary expression on her father’s face told her the smile looked as artificial as it felt. ‘After all, I want to look my best for all Alan’s relatives.’

‘Let me get your mother. She’ll go with you.’

‘No,’ she said again, more sharply this time. ‘There’s no reason to bother Mother.’ Paige patted her father’s arm. ‘I’ll just be a few minutes, Father. Really. If Alan comes looking for me, tell him I’ll be right back.’

‘Paige…’

Her father’s voice drifted after her as she hurried across the dance floor. This was the price you paid for too little sleep and too much to do, she thought as she wound her way through the crowded ballroom. She was lightheaded, and who wouldn’t be after the day she’d had? Up at dawn, so that her mother could make some last-minute adjustments to her dress and veil. And then there’d been lunch with the girls she’d worked with, and tea with her bridesmaids…

‘Excuse me,’ Paige said as she moved between a laughing Marie Antoinette and a smiling Satan. Alan would understand if she begged off and asked him to take her home. She’d meet his relatives first, his Aunt Dorothy and all the rest, and then go home and get out of her costume and into a warm bath. The ballroom was just too crowded, the music too loud, the air too thick and warm. She’d comb her hair, touch up her make-up, go off and say all the right things to Alan’s family and that would be that. In three days, she could relax. In three days, all this would be over. Three days. Oh, God, three days…

There was a long queue in the ladies’ room. ‘I only want to get to the sink,’ Paige said, but it was impossible to move past anyone in the narrow space. She took a deep breath and settled in to wait her turn behind a harem girl and a lady pirate.

‘… just popped the question,’ the harem girl bubbled, holding out her left hand. ‘Look, isn’t it lovely?’

The lady pirate and everyone else looked at the girl’s ring finger and smiled. A diamond gleamed on it, a diamond considerably smaller than the one on Paige’s hand. But Paige knew, without question, that her eyes had never gleamed with the radiance she saw reflected in the harem girl’s eyes. Suddenly, she wondered if the girl’s heart raced when her fiancé looked at her, whether she ever found it difficult to breathe after his eyes had met hers and discovered secrets she’d never acknowledged. Paige had never felt that way under Alan’s gaze. She’d never felt that way in her life, not even during that one, long-ago love affair, never felt that way until moments ago when a man whose name she didn’t know had looked at her from behind a black mask.

The harem girl fell silent as a strangled gasp came from Paige’s throat.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, and she tried to smile. But she couldn’t; she could feel her lips draw back from her teeth in a terrible parody of a smile as she turned and shouldered her way past the waiting women. ‘Excuse me,’ she said again, ignoring the raised eyebrows and curious faces that turned in her direction.

Finally, back in the ballroom, Paige leaned back against the door to the ladies’ room and looked around her. Alan, she thought, willing him to appear before her. But, if Alan Fowler was one of the Romeos nearby, it was impossible for her to pick him out.

The music seemed louder than ever, the crowd denser. A heavyset man in a pirate costume was smoking a cigar. The smell of it seemed to engulf her. Paige thought of pushing her way out of the ballroom to the street. She could flag a taxi and go home…

But there was no street outside the Hunt Club, there was only a car park high on a Connecticut bluff overlooking the Atlantic. And she couldn’t just disappear into the night. Alan and her parents would worry, they’d come looking for her. And what would she tell them when they found her? Could she say, I saw a girl in the ladies’ room, and she was so happy about her engagement that it made me want to cry? Could she say, I saw a man I’ve never seen before, a man whose name I don’t know, and he made me feel something Alan never made me feel, and it frightened me so much that I ran away?

The room seemed to quiver around her. ‘Dear God,’ she whispered aloud, and suddenly an arm slid around her waist. She smelled a faint tang of leathery cologne, felt the brush of fabric against her cheek, felt the hard length of a male body against hers.

‘You’ll be all right,’ a deep voice said. ‘Just lean on me.’

‘I… I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Really…’

But she allowed herself to lean into the man’s embrace. His arm tightened around her, his hand pressing against the curve of her hip.

‘You’re going to pass out if you don’t get some fresh air,’ he said. ‘Take a deep breath. That’s it.’

Paige did as she was told. She’d never fainted in her life, but she thought he was probably right. The room was a spinning vortex of bright colours, the music a drumming shriek. She fitted her body to his, almost burrowing against him as he led her through the crowd. The doors that led to the gardens loomed ahead, and she knew that was where he was taking her.

He reached for the door and pushed it open. A gust of cold air blew into her face, clearing the cobwebs from her mind. It was time for her to stop him. She could thank him for his help and asked him to locate her fiancé for her.

But she would do none of that. Paige knew it, even before he led her into the chill October garden, just as she knew that the man beside her was the stranger who’d been watching her all evening, and the race of her heart only confirmed what she could no longer deny.

She had wanted this moment to come. She had been hoping it would. And now that it was here, she knew her life would never be the same again.

CHAPTER TWO

PAIGE shivered as the glass doors swung shut behind her. The last time she’d been here was with Alan. Roses and honeysuckle had perfumed the air then. Now it smelled of the sea that beat relentlessly at the sand below the bluff. Music spilled faintly from the closed ballroom, a soft accompaniment to the distant pound of the surf. A full moon lit the terrace, but as Paige lifted her eyes to the stranger’s face a bank of clouds scudded across the sky, plunging everything into darkness.

Every instinct told her to pull free of the arm encircling her waist and hurry back into the lighted warmth of the clubhouse, but her feet seemed rooted to the ground. This is insanity, she thought, and she turned to say she was leaving. But the man beside her spoke first.

‘Take a deep breath.’

Paige shook her head. ‘I’m all right now. I…’

She felt the pressure of his hand. ‘Do it,’ he said curtly. ‘Go on. Inhale.’

It was a command, not a suggestion. She nodded and did as he’d said, drawing the cool air deep into her lungs.

‘Better?’

She nodded again. ‘Yes. Much better. Thank you for your…’

‘Don’t talk,’ he said. ‘Just take another breath.’

She inhaled again and told herself there was nothing to be concerned about. She was sure she’d turned as pale as a sheet in that stuffy ballroom. He’d noticed, and he’d come to her assistance. He was just being a Good Samaritan. Anything else was the result of an over-active imagination.

‘I… I’m fine now,’ she said. ‘And I’m terribly sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.’

‘It was no trouble at all.’ The pressure of his hand urged her to turn towards him. ‘In fact, you might say you did me a favour.’

‘I did?’ Was there a smile in his voice? If only she could see his face…

He laughed softly. ‘I’ve always wanted to rescue a damsel in distress, Juliet.’ His hand touched her cheek. ‘That is your name tonight, isn’t it?’

‘I… yes, yes, that’s right,’ Paige said quickly. ‘And I really have to go inside now. My fiancé…’

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