His Blackmailed Bride - Sandra Marton

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didn’t look on the beach,’ Janet Gardiner said. ‘That’s where she was, Alan. Walking off a bad set of nerves.’

      Paige flushed. ‘Mother, for heaven’s sake…’

      Alan grinned. ‘Terrific. I’m the one who’s supposed to be jittery, remember? That’s the bridegroom’s prerogative.’

      Paige drew in her breath. ‘Are you?’ she whispered.

      Alan put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. ‘We’re going to be happy,’ he said softly. ‘I promise.’

      Paige stared at her fiancé. They would be happy, she thought. Of course they would. What she’d felt a few moments ago, in the arms of a stranger, wasn’t happiness. She knew that as well as anyone. Better, perhaps…

      ‘Mr and Mrs Fowler have asked us to their house for coffee, dear,’ her mother said. ‘I’ll just get your father and we’ll meet you out front.’

      Alan smiled as Paige’s mother bustled away. ‘You’re going to get coffee and cake and the whole Fowler clan,’ he said teasingly. ‘Aunt Dorothy wants to meet you. And Uncle Sam. And what looks like an endless line of cousins.’ He bent and kissed her. ‘I’m glad your mother found you, sweetheart. We don’t want to disappoint them, do we?’

      ‘No, of course not.’

      She gave him a quick smile as he clasped her hand in his and led her through the clubhouse to the front portico. How long would the man on the beach wait for her? she wondered. Five minutes? Ten? Would he be disappointed or angry or…

      ‘Here we are, children. Alan, why don’t you ask the attendant to get the car?’ Her mother took her aside as Alan and her father stepped towards the kerb. ‘Stop worrying,’ she whispered. ‘It’s just last-minute nerves, that’s all. Three days from now, when you’re Mrs Alan Fowler, you’ll remember how you felt tonight and you’ll laugh.’

      Paige nodded and murmured something appropriate. But as she stepped into her fiancé’s car and let the commitments and obligations of her new life swallow her, she knew that her mother was wrong.

      She would remember this night, but she would never laugh. The memories of it would be too bittersweet.

      But then, fantasy often was.

      ‘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.

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