His Blackmailed Bride. Sandra Marton
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.
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 fiancé…’
The man shook his head in a gesture of impatience. ‘The hell with your fiancé,’ 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