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She wanted to tell him she’d wanted him always, not just since the night they’d met but since the beginning of time. But his mouth took hers as he slid his hands beneath her and lifted her to him, and then it was too late to tell him anything. She could only call out his name as his passion filled her with life-giving warmth.
She felt the flutter of wings deep within her as Quinn began to move, slowly at first, then more quickly, and as his pace and thrust intensified so did the beat of the wings, until, in a sudden dazzle of pleasure, Paige broke free of her own body.
The stars, she thought, the stars that blazed in the night sky above the Connecticut shore and the quiet London mews—she could almost grasp them in her hand.
‘My Juliet,’ Quinn whispered. ‘My wife.’
Her heart tumbled with joy, and then the starfire flamed over her and through her. And, as she drifted slowly to earth again, safe in Quinn’s arms, she understood the meaning of the oldest magic of all.
Love.
* * *
Paige awoke slowly to the patter of rain on the window. Hazy, dream-shot images tumbled through her mind. It was a good
morning for dreams, she thought lazily—dreams of starry skies, of strong arms, of Quinn…
Quinn. Her heart tumbled wildly. They weren’t dreams at all. The long, wonderful night had been real.
She was alone in his bed; she knew that even before she opened her eyes. If he’d been there, she’d have still been locked in his arms as she had been all night, not just when they had made love but when they had slept—although there had been little time for sleep. It was as if Quinn had been determined to make up for all the nights they’d wasted during the weeks of their marriage.
Her cheeks coloured as she thought of the hours gone by, and she smiled as she sat up and ran her hands through her tangled hair. What had become of the woman who froze at a kiss? Paige pushed back the covers and padded barefoot across the bedroom. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and she stopped.
Was that woman with the tousled hair really she? Her mouth looked swollen—she took a step closer and touched her fingers to her lips. Quinn’s kisses had done that, she thought in amazement. And the gentle nip of his teeth had left that faint mark on her throat.
She laughed softly as she studied her reflection. The signs of his possession were on her flesh. Her skin seemed to glow with a new radiance, and there was a rosy hue in her cheeks that had never been there before.
The ruby ring no longer lay between her breasts. The delicate chain had broken while they had made love, and the ring lay now on the night table. Everything was different, she thought, but it was what she felt in her heart that mattered the most. Paige wrapped her arms around herself and twirled in a circle, her bare feet dancing swiftly across the carpeted floor.
I love him. She took a deep breath. ‘I love him,’ she whispered to the silent room. ‘I love him for all time with all my heart.’
She swept up an armful of clothing and dressed quickly. Quinn was waiting for her downstairs. Quinn. Her husband. The realisation made her dizzy with anticipation. Not so long ago, she remembered, she’d stood in this same room, thinking the same thought—but how different that morning had been. She’d hated Quinn then.
No, that wasn’t true. She’d never hated him. She’d always loved him, always. Anger and confusion had stood between them, but that was behind them now. She was Quinn’s wife. His wife. It was what he’d called her all through the night. And today—today, she thought, putting her hand to the doorknob, was the first day of their honeymoon.
The smell of coffee greeted her as she ran down the stairs. The door to the library stood open, but it was empty, as was the small, formal dining room. Of course—Norah wasn’t due back until evening. A quick rush of pink splashed across her cheeks. They had the house all to themselves. And it was raining. A fire would be lovely, and there was that soft afghan that was draped across one of the wing chairs in the library…
The kitchen was empty, too. A percolator stood in the centre of the table, filled with dark liquid, and two mugs stood beside it, but Quinn was nowhere to be seen. Paige frowned and turned back into the hallway. She peered into the empty sitting room. Was he upstairs? Her pulse raced. Yes, he must be. He was probably in the guest bedroom, taking his clothes from the wardrobe, readying them for transfer back to his own room. To their room…
She was on the second stair when she heard a noise in the library. But she’d looked there. With a shrug of her shoulders, she padded along the hall and into the room.
No wonder she’d missed him the first time. He was far to the left of the door, almost hidden from view behind it. Paige stepped into the room, her bare feet making no sound on the carpeted floor. Quinn was standing in front of the campaign table, his back to her, and she watched as he lifted and twisted one of the brass corner gussets. A concealed drawer sprang open.
‘Caught you red-handed,’ she said with laugh. ‘Secret drawers full of treasure, hmm?’
He spun around towards her. ‘Didn’t you ever hear of knocking before you enter a room?’
Her heart plummeted. ‘I… I didn’t know you… I didn’t mean to intrude.’ She stared at him in silence, and then she nodded. ‘I’ll be in… in my room.’
‘Paige.’
‘What?’ She had to whisper the word to keep her voice from breaking.
He took an envelope from the drawer, put it in his jacket pocket, and slid the drawer shut with a click. When he looked at her again, there was a polite smile on his face.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. You startled me, that’s all.’
She nodded. ‘That’s… that’s all right, Quinn. I… I… She looked down at her shoeless feet and then at him. ‘I guess you didn’t hear me. It’s a habit of mine,’ she said with a quick smile. ‘Padding around barefoot…’
