Her gaze was darting over the other women in line as she examined the situation. She reminded him of a fox, crafty and wary as she calculated her next move.
When an aproned barkeep opened the back door, all stood at attention. The man spoke in French, saying something about taking only two more girls for the night—anyone else seen on the premises would be arrested for loitering.
Immediately they jockeyed for position. Madeleine didn’t stand a chance against the bigger women—the ones glaring at her and crossing their thick arms over their chests in warning. If she challenged them, shewould get attacked.
Obviously realizing that fact, she backed from the fray, pausing only to squire to safety a young girl wearing a cigarette tray.
The wee girl looked like she was about to cry over not getting in. Madeleine furtively chucked her under the chin, then held up a gold coin, pinched in her fingers. “I’ll bet a hundred francs against any of you,” Madeleine began in a carrying voice, “that I’ll be one of the two in tonight.”
Like vultures surrounding carrion, they circled Madeleine and the girl, tensed to pounce. Ethan pushed up from the wall, striding forward to intervene; Madeleine turned her head to meet some of their stares, taking her eyes from the money. Surely she would know better—
The brawniest one lunged for the coin, slapping Madeleine’s hand. The coin went flying into the air, pattering on the bricks ten feet away. The group dove for it, pulling hair and slapping. Madeleine slipped inside, dragging the wide-eyed cigarette girl behind her.
From the pile of women, one exclaimed in French, “It’s a stage coin!”
The rest began a chorus about killingla gamine .
Ethan grinned from the shadows.La gamine —the name fit. She did have an impish air about her. He hurried to the front entrance of the tavern, suddenly finding it imperative to see what the chit would do next.
The other barmaids were visibly shocked that Maddy and the cigarette girl, aptly named Cigarette, had made the cut. Maddy had helped the girl because Cigarette reminded her of herself at that age—hungry, desperate, praying for a break.
Wait. That was Maddy now—
Oh, deuce it!Berthé was here, sneering at her from behind the counter. Sometimes Berthé and Odette worked the taverns, but only to solicit new customers. Berthé’s presence boded ill.
Maddy hadn’t been in the Silken Purse in years, but she’d never been this impassioned to save her arms before. That group of women outside would be waiting for her later, ready to make her pay. Maddy prayed she’d be able to do soin coin .
The interior hadn’t changed since the last time she’d seen it. There was an entrance hall and then two large rooms—the main area where food and drink were served and the darker back room, where popular girls like Berthé served drinks while arranging to sell more.
Gaslights dotted the tavern’s walls, their cut sconces stained yellow from tobacco smoke. Behind the bar, the wall was lined with vast mirrors, the glass etched with the brand names of ales or gin.
Some older men were already drunk and singing songs from the revolution, but other than their small gathering and a few lone drinkers, the place was empty. She’d heard the bell on the front door ring a few moments ago, but she’d been watching out for Berthé and hadn’t seen who’d entered.
Naturally, the one time she’d contrived to get into the usually packed tavern it would be slow. Leaning her elbow on the bar, her chin in her palm, she regarded herself in the back mirror. Even with rouge along her cheeks and a dash of face paint to cover the smudges under her eyes, she appeared tired.
Suddenly she frowned, rubbing her hand over the back of her neck. She had the eerie feeling that she was being watched. Her gaze darted in the mirror, but she didn’t see anyone in the main room watching her. The back room was shadowed, and she saw the outline of a man, but she couldn’t distinguish features or even determine if he was turned toward her. She was curious but knew better than to go back there.
Assuring herself it was nothing—just overwrought nerves—she turned back, resting her head on her hand again.One little break , she thought again.A single crumb of luck .
When she did get her break, she wouldn’t hesitate to take it, as so many in La Marais would. She had to believe that someday she’d leave this place. She, Corrine, and Bea always used to dream about sailing away somewhere, maybe even to America. Maddy would open a dress shop in a city like Boston, and Corrine would sew Maddy’s designs. The first time they’d hit on this idea, Bea’s face had fallen. “But what will I do?”
“Model, of course,” Maddy had said as Corrine nodded earnestly. “We can’t very well open a dress shop without a model.”
Bea’s blue eyes had lit up. “I am so good at standing still! Oh, Maddée, you won’t believe how still I can be!”
Maddy grinned at the memory even now….
As if Maddy’s prayers had been answered, a big party of English tourists filed in. Berthé got them, but then a group of rich University of Paris students entered.Mine, all mine , Maddy thought as she donned her brightest smile and swooped in on them.
Soon, the place was packed with businessmen, lower bourgeoisie shopkeepers, andles Bohèmes . She steered clear of the latter—especially the ones with cheap clay pipes and wear on the elbows of their coats.
She was earning a small windfall in gratuities, doing better than she ever had, and she’d even managed to eat two lemons and at least half a dozen cherries off the bar service. As she prowled to make it a solid dozen, the barkeep noticed and rapped a cane over her fingers—hard.
Biting the inside of her cheek, she shook her hand out, and again had the sense that she was being watched.
Luckily, she could still hold a tray. And over the next two hours, she served countless tankards of ale, bowls of punch, and opaque bottles of absinthe. Berthé was jostling her whenever they met at the bar, but Maddy could still balance a full tray—she was light on her feet, even for all that her boots were two sizes too small.
Yet at every turn, she felt pinpricks of awareness over the back of her neck.
When Cigarette sold out, Maddy felt generous with her windfall and gave her fifteen sous to pay off anybody who might want to beat her up. The girl deftly swung her hanging tray aside to hug Maddy, then skipped away, her braids flopping.
Just as Maddy turned back, one of the university students took a firm hold of her waist and yanked her into his lap. She studied the smoky ceiling as she listened to his comparisons of her to Leda and various nymphs and to all his hopes and dreams for his and Maddy’s future. His musings grew tedious, so sheaccidentally knocked his drink off the table onto his feet. She vowed to replace the drink at once—putting the charge on his bill, of course.
A group of four middle-aged men were more direct in their propositioning. When Maddy caught their eye, they waved her over, and one asked how much it would cost for her to sleep with all of them. One hundred francs? She smiled tightly, choking back a retort. When the man got up to four hundred francs—what she could only imagine earning in a really bountiful year—she still firmly shook her head. To mollify them, she directed them to one of the more likable girls in the back, asking them to remind her topassez le gras back to Maddy.
Surprisingly, the men were still nice to her and even ordered a bowl of punch. That was one of the most expensive orders in the Silken Purse. She dashed away to get it.
On her return, she rushed to serve the sizable bowl, grinning at her fortune….
Ethan had decided to examine what a typical night in Madeleine’s life was like, garnering insights into her present situation—such as why she was forced to work so hard instead of eating chocolates on a divan in St. Roch. With each minute passing, he grew more uneasy.
Though this was just another tavern and he was here to observe as he had night after night in his job, he had to struggle to retain his customary detachment. He found himself engrossed with Madeleine’s behavior—the skill with which she eluded groping hands, her generosity with the young cigarette girl, the way she made the men laugh with her sly sense of humor.
He could tell every time she received a proposition—she seemed to stifle a haughty air, biting back angry words. He’d counted at least a dozen, meaning he’d wanted to kill at least a dozen admirers.
If Ethan was to be an objective observer, then why had he decided to come back later and punish the barkeep for striking her with a cane? And why, when a young man had planted Madeleine in his lap, had Ethan come very near to wiping the floor with the man’s face?
In the end, Ethan had learned much about her tonight—and everything he saw, he grudginglyadmired .
Even now, the chit worked tirelessly, carrying that punch bowl with a proud expression—
Suddenly, Ethan saw another girl’s foot sweep out, hooking Madeleine’s ankles, tripping her forward. Before he could react, Madeleine and the full crystal bowl crashed to the ground.
The tavern grew silent except for some men snickering. Ethan wanted to thrash every single one of them.
She tried to get up, but her foot slipped in the liquid. She hit her little fist on the floor, her expression a mix of exhaustion and resolve. Just as he rose to help her, she scrambled up. Brushing off her skirt, she swallowed and closed her eyes, as if praying the crystal bowl wasn’t truly broken. When she opened them once more, her eyes were dazed and glinting.
The barkeep roared Gallic curses and opened his palm, stabbing it with his other forefinger. Chin up, she dug into her skirt pocket as she scuffed to the bar. As she paid the coins out, she clutched each one, unwilling to part with them. Once she’d surrendered at least what she’d made this night, the barkeep pointed to the door. Patrons booed, but the man was unmoved.
Shoulders back, she trudged to the entrance, but she had to know the women from earlier would be waiting. Ethan quickly followed. In the entrance hall, a loud party was entering, and in the commotion, she smoothly filched an umbrella from the stand as she exited.
Ethan slipped out behind her and silently trailed her down the crowded stairs. Sure enough, Madeleine’s enemies awaited her. With false bravado, she hit the umbrella into her cupped palm and asked, “Who wants to be first?”
He stood directly behind her, casting the women his most murderous expression over Madeleine’s head.
The closest one’s eyes went wide, and she backed away. The others followed, until they’d all scattered.
“That’s right!” Madeleine called after them. “Remember my name!”
Suddenly she froze. After a hesitation, she began to turn toward him.
Ethan’s heart thundered. After waiting weeks, he was finally going to see her again. He wiped his sleeve over his damp brow.
She needs me more than I need her, he reminded himself, then asked, “Friends of yours?”
Sixteen
Maddy didn’t shriek or startle, just gripped the umbrella like a cricket bat as she turned.
She gasped in recognition. “The Scot!” It couldn’t be him, yet those eyes, that accent, and his towering height told her it could be no other. She surveyed his face, shocked to find that the man she’d thought was so perfect was horribly scarred.
He stood motionless, as if steeling himself for her reaction. She didn’t think he even breathed while she stared at the jagged mark.
“Well, I see now why you wouldn’t take off your mask.” She tilted her head. “You had to cover up the ten-inch-long scar twisting across your face.”
His eyes narrowed. “Aingeal, there is only one thing on my body that’s ten inches long, and if you’ll recall, the scar is no’ it.”
“The scaris that long.” She gave him a smirk as she said, “Regarding the other, well, I hardly even remember.” As if she’d ever forget that searing pain. “How long have you been spying on me?”
“I was no’ spying on you. I was making sure you dinna get waylaid by bloodthirsty French barmaids. Now, I think it’s time I told you my name. I’m Ethan MacCarrick, and I’ve—”
“Why?” She tossed aside the umbrella, then skipped down the steps, starting down the street.
When he caught up to her, he was frowning. “Why what?”
“Why do you think it’s time I learned your name? Why would you think I care to? I don’t, sobonne nuit .” Maddy hadn’t thought this day could possibly get worse. She quickened her pace to get home before something else happened. She would rid herself of these torturing boots, crawl under the covers, not to wake for days—and forget she’d ever seen the Scot.
“You doona even want to know why I’m here?”
As ever, she was curious.How did he find me? How much does he know about me? But after his cruelty the last time she’d seen him, and after the day she’d had…
She couldn’t think of much more than the money she’d lost on the punch bowl and how badly her feet hurt and how she craved the oblivion of sleep. “No.” She paused, tapping her chin. “Not unless you’ve come to return my virginity, which, regrettably, I misplaced in a cab in London.” She raised her brows in question. “Don’t have it with you? No? Then…good-bye.” She reveled in his expression before she hurried on. Priceless. That bastard had actually imagined that she’d be happy to see him.
“Are you going home?” he called from behind her. “Say hello to the henchmen on your way in.” When she slowed, he added, “How much do you owe?”
At that, she snapped over her shoulder, “Why would this be any business of yours?”
He caught up with her once more, striding beside her. “Because I might offer to help.”
“And why would you do that? Out of the goodness of your black heart?”
“No. I admit I want something from you. If you’ll just listen to my proposition—”
“MacCarrick, is it?” At his nod, she said, “I think I can predict what yourproposition might be, and I’m emphatically not interested!”
“Maybe, maybe no’. Share a meal with me, and we’ll discuss it.”
“I’m not stupid. You want to go to bed with me again. Which will never happen. I couldn’t have been persuaded to evenbefore I saw your face. Now? I won’t even waste my time talking about it. There’s nothing you could offer that would affect that.”
She could almost hear him grinding his teeth to a pulp. “I believe you’re in need of a lot of things I could offer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Winter’s coming and you’re living in a wet, drafty hovel.”
She nearly stumbled. “You were insidemy apartment?”
“Aye, Bea let me in. We talked for a bit.”
“So she’s the one who told you where you could find me? Why would she do that? Did you threaten her?” she demanded. “Were you cruel to her because she’s…because she’s popular?”
“No, she helped me because she said youliked me,” he answered, raising his eyebrows.
Bea had revealed that? How embarrassing! Maddy sounded like a simpering girl at her first cotillion.
“Corrine told me how to find you at this tavern.”
Corrine, too?“I can’t imagine why they helped you—my last word on the subject of you was that you were an ass.”
“Corrine entreated me no’ to let you get hurt by some woman named Berthé.”
She slanted a glance at him. “How did you find my apartment in the first place?”
“Quin Weyland gave me an address in St. Roch, and I followed your trail to La Marais.”
“You’re friends with Quin?”
“I’m a family friend of the Weylands. Even related to them in a way—my brother recently married Jane Weyland.”
“That makes no sense. The last I heard, Jane was supposed to marry some rich English earl.”
“Believe me, I doona see it either.”
“So you knew who I was the night of the masquerade?”
“No, only that you were an acquaintance of theirs as well. Listen, Madeleine, with the rate you’ve lost weight since I last saw you, the apple I found in your garret is likely the only dinner you’re returning to, and the men outside your building are no’ the type to show mercy.”
She could deny none of it.
“All I’m asking you to do is share a dinner with me and hear me out.” When she was still shaking her head, he snapped, “Do you really need to mull over the choice of a warm meal with me or facing those men?”
If Toumard’s men were there, she’d be forced to wander the streets again. Yet still she said, “Yes, MacCarrick. Yes, I do. You were hateful that night, and the only thing that got me through it was telling myself I never had to see you again. ‘Decide what’s to be done with you,’ you said. How galling. I want nothing from you—not then, and not now! I’ve taken care of myself since I was fourteen.” She was almost home, to her bed, to oblivion.
“Aye, and a capable job you’re doing. With the poverty, hunger, and debts. Seems you might have stuck around Quin’s till I came back if this was what you were returning to.” He waved a hand at the street.
Homeless men gathered around fires in clay pots, casting long shadows over the buildings. Gunfire popped in the background. Somewhere in the dark a fistfight broke out.
“Quin told me you were intelligent and practical. Surely you’ve the sense to at least hear me out.”
“Quin talked to you about me?” she asked, slowing.
“Aye, and he knows I’ve come to Paris to see you. He would no’ like to learn that you live in a place like this.”
She would die if Quin knew! She twined her fingers. But would her pride force her to go along with the Scot? At that moment, she feared pride had just taken a generous lead over curiosity toward her downfall. She finally stopped. “I don’t want him to know.”
“Then come along,” he said in a stern tone that must usually send people scurrying to do his bidding—because he looked perplexed when she only raised her brows at him. “Come with me, and I’ll get you a room at my hotel, and you’ll enjoy a nice hot meal.”
“Now it’s to yourhotel ? Do you think I’m a fool? Besides, I thought you preferred intercourse in moving conveyances.”
He made a sound of frustration, then dug a small jewelry case from his pocket, presenting it to her. “Have dinner with me, listen to my proposition, and I’ll give you this. No strings attached.”
Her hand shot out for the case so swiftly that he had to blink. She whirled around, opening it. A diamond ring! “You don’t mind if I examine this more closely?” she asked over her shoulder.
He quirked a brow, waving her forward. “No’ at all.”
She needed a streetlight. Of course, the sole one in La Marais had been torn down, its iron sold for scrap. But she could feel the stone’s weight and knew it couldn’t be paste.A diamond, a real one. This would pay off Toumard and keep her foryears . “One dinner earns me this?”
“Aye, you can keep the ring, regardless of your decision.”
“Would you vow you won’t try anything unseemly with me?”
“Unseemly? Aye, I can vow that.”
She could tell the ring wouldn’t fit her thin fingers, so she pulled her key ribbon from her skirt pocket. After untying the red ribbon and threading the ring along it next to her apartment key, she stowed it back into her deep pocket.
When she faced him again, he appeared to barely check a smug smirk, no doubt thinking she’d just agreed. “It’s obvious you always get what you want,” she said. “Maybe it’d be good for you to be turned down flat by a girl from the slum.”
At that, he obviously reached his limit. He took a step forward, looking as though he planned to toss her over his shoulder.
“Ah-ah”—she wagged her finger at him—“I wouldn’t do that. You won’t catch me, not in my neighborhood.”
He seemed to grind his teeth again, then clearly lit on an idea.
From his jacket, he pulled an apple—it washer precious apple, abducted from her home.
“No!” she cried, forced to watch as he took a big bite, chewing with exaggerated relish.
“So I take it we have an engagement for dinner,” he said between bites.
Seventeen
When Ethan tossed the core away, she looked as though she would cry, and for some reason he almost felt guilty. He gentled his tone. “Come with me, Madeleine. I promise your apple will be a worthy sacrifice.”
Even now, dressed as she was, she seemed so out of place in La Marais. She was tired, but her hair shone in the street fires, and her eyes were bright, not like the sunken eyes of the denizens all around them. She appeared so fragile, yet she had no reaction to the shots fired at regular intervals not more than a couple of blocks away in any direction.
“I still have to go home to let my friends know I didn’t get hurt,” she said. “They’ll be worried.”
“So you plan to wade into a dangerous area in order to inform your friends that you’re safe? That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s notdangerous ,” she scoffed.
The mere idea of her down here at night was insufferable. “Do you no’ hear the guns going off?”
She gave him a look that said he was daft. “Well, it’s not as though they’re aimed atme . If you’re afraid, then stay here until I return.”
Little witch. “I’m no’afraid —”
“Then you won’t mind waiting here. You can’t tell me Corrine and Bea were worried and then expect me to ignore their worry.”
At another time, he might have been impressed with her loyalty and concern for her friends. Now, it only irritated him. “If you think I’m letting you go down there alone, you’re mad.”
She put her hand on her hip. “And what will you do about it?”
He lunged forward, seizing her elbow, and began dragging her back up the hill.
“MacCarrick, Ilive here. I only want five minutes.” She cursed him in French. “You can’t order me about, Scot!” Her hard little boots connected with his shins.
He grated, “Damn it, Madeleine, we’ll send them a message from the hotel.”
“No one will deliver a message to La Marais after sunset!”
“They will if I pay them enough.” He considered throwing her over his shoulder, but he risked opening his stitches. When she still resisted, he said, “We’ll send them food as well, then. Would that sway you?”
She eased her scuffling. “Howmuch food?”
“I doona bloody care. As much as you like.”
She got a gleam in her eye that he thought he’d soon be growing familiar with. “I will hold you to—”
A woman cried out from just behind him. Ethan shoved Madeleine back as he twisted around. In a murky alley, a prostitute was pressed up against a wall, studying her nails and feigning moans as one man took her from behind. Another man awaited his turn.
When Ethan turned to Madeleine, she shrugged at the sight of people having intercourse just feet from the two of them, with the same indifference she’d demonstrated the first night he’d met her.
He couldn’t imagine all the things her young eyes had witnessed.
Stitches be damned. “I doona want you here,” he said simply, about to sling her over his shoulder, but the waiting man strode forward from the shadows and addressed them in a strange tongue.Argot , Ethan thought, the French cant of criminals. The man pointed to Madeleine with raised eyebrows.
She gave a bitter laugh and muttered, “He wants to know if you’ve finished with me.”
A haze fell over Ethan’s vision. He dimly heard her answering retort, speaking argot herself. The bastard thought Madeleine was a whore, thought to use her in a filthy alley….
Ethan yanked her behind him as he pulled his gun. The man took one look at Ethan’s expression and drew his own pistol. Too late. Ethan had already drawn, cocked, and aimed.
Madeleine glanced out from behind his back, then touched his shoulder. “Don’t, MacCarrick.” Her voice was urgent. “Allons-y. Let’s go. I’m ready to go with you now.”
“Why should I no’ kill him?”
“Because his gang will come after me and my friends. You didn’t want me here, and now I want to go with you. Please, Scot….”
At length, he backed them away, keeping his gun raised and the man in sight until they’d turned the corner. He finally stowed his gun, wincing in pain. His wound had started to throb.
“Do you always carry a pistol?” At his brusque nod, she said, “Why?”
So when a criminal mistakes my woman for a whore, I can kill him.He shook himself, trying to throw off the surge of protectiveness that welled within him.His woman? She was a means to an end.
She tilted her head at him. “I don’t understand why you were afraid of gunfire when youhave a gun—and obviously know how to use it. In any case, I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.” She frowned. “Well, probably not. Unless it inconvenienced me to step in or I had something better—”
“I wasno’ bloody afraid,” he grated again.I suspect I’m going to throttle her before all this is done. “Damn it, just come along….”
When they arrived at his hotel, the brasserie downstairs was still open, but Ethan didn’t want to take her in there. He didn’t care if people stared at his face—he was used to it—but he didn’t want her analyzing him, discerning his reaction.
“We’ll eat in my room,” he said, clasping her hand and leading her to the stairs.
Instead of protesting vehemently, she gazed up at his scar. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” No furtive glances for her.
He narrowed his eyes. “Wouldn’t it you?”
She shrugged, and they ascended in silence to his floor. Inside his room, she whistled and turned in a circle. “Pricey. Nothing but the best, then?”
He rang for a waiter. “Why no’?” he said, carefully shrugging from his jacket.
She’d just returned from surveying the balcony’s view when a liveried waiter arrived to take a bill of fare. The man handed the single menu to him to order, but Ethan waved him to Madeleine.
She accepted it with a regal inclination of her head, sitting at the room’s polished dining table. “Do you speak French?” she asked Ethan as she skimmed the offerings.
“Nary a word,” he lied. “Only Gaelic and English.”
“Lobster,” she immediately told the man in French, casting Ethan a furtive glance. He gave her a blank look in return. She amended her order to six lobster entrees with accompaniments—soups, cheeses, pastries, fruits, salad.
“And if you box up half of the order and have the porter deliver it to an address in La Marais, my…husband will add a forty percent gratuity.”
“La Marais?” the waiter said, choking on the words.
She sighed. “Seventy percent.”
While Madeleine scribbled the address on the bill of fare, Ethan told the waiter, “Bring up champagne while we wait.” To Madeleine, he said, “Feel free to choose the vintage, lass.”
In French, she ordered, “Whatever’s most dear.”
With a bow, the man departed. When he returned directly with the champagne, poured, then left once more, Madeleine seemed content to drink and explore the room.
Ethan sank back into a plush armchair, content to watch her opening drawers, investigating closets, even rooting through his bag.Sionnach , he thought. She again reminded him of a fox, so wary, so sly.
She touched all the fabrics in the room, brushing her fingertips lovingly over the counterpane, even over his trousers in the closet press, seeming unaware of what she was doing. He, however, was quite aware and wanted her to run her fingers over those trousers like that when he was in them. She effortlessly made him randy as hell.
When she ambled into the bathroom, he leaned forward to keep her in view. She eyed the plunge tub, which was big enough to swim in. “Unlimited running water?” she asked, coveting it with her eyes.
“Aye. You’re welcome to it.”
He thought he heard her mutter, “You mean, you’ll let meavail myself .”
By the time the food arrived a short while later, she was visibly tipsy, which wasn’t surprising considering how thin she was. The sizable table proved too small for all the fare, so she had the server spread out the plates on the room’s thick Brussels rug for a picnic.
Once the man left, she sat on the floor, with the dishes all around her. Ethan shrugged and eased down with her, careful with his injury.
“Casual as ever,” she remarked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, reaching for a lobster dish, but she changed her grip on her fork to a dagger hold.
He raised his palms in surrender, his gaze flickering over her small frame as he said, “You obviously need it more than I do.”
She couldn’t seem to decide if that had been a cutting comment or a statement of fact. He couldn’t either. “Tell me what you meant,” he said.
“You acted so familiar with me that night in the carriage.”
“Aye, it happens when two people have intercourse.”
She glared at that. “No, you acted as if we’d been together for years—just a night among many between us.”
Sometimes it felt that way….
“Here. I’ll let you have this to eat,” she said, solemnly handing him agarnish . Then she took her first forkful, rolling her eyes with pleasure.
Though he would have thought she’d inhale her food, she savored each bite as if it would be her last. She had a sensual, tactile way of eating that was…stirring. When she ate juicy strawberries and clotted cream, he ran his hand over his mouth. When she licked the cream from her fingers, he uncomfortably shifted the way he sat. Any male could easily imagine her actions in a different light. Finally, he could take no more.
“Enough,” he said as he levered himself to his feet. “You’re going to make yourself sick.” He clasped her hand to help her up.
She reluctantly let him. “But I haven’t eaten more than a regular meal.”
“Which is still much more than you’re accustomed to right now.”
When he led her, grumbling, to a seat at the empty dining table, she stared over her shoulder at the food. He again experienced that tightness in his chest, the same he’d felt when she’d been about to cry over her apple.
“Lass, there’s more where that came from. You doona have to behave like it’s your last meal.”
She laughed without humor. “Spoken like a man who’s never missed one.”
Eighteen
The Scot hadn’t even raised a brow when tray after tray of food had arrived—fruit, pastries, lobster, salads, and a trio of desserts. Surveying all the dishes she’d just enjoyed, she realized he’d been right—the apple had been such a worthy sacrifice.
Yet Maddy had been suspicious when he’d wanted to dinein his room and had almost fled with the ring. Then she’d concluded that he didn’t want to be in the restaurant because of his face, which was understandable, considering how extensive the scar was. She couldn’t believe he’d hidden his true appearance from her that first night—willfully hidden it, even as he’d taken her.
He brought her glass of champagne to her seat at the table. Though she was already light-headed, he’d drunk nothing. She’d noticed before that he seemed to favor one side, and now he sat gingerly on the bed as though he was in pain.
“You told me you’ve lived alone since you were fourteen,” he said. “I’m curious to know how you pay for rent and food.”
“You mean, if tonight’s performance was any indication.” She’d lost more than she’d made—until the Scot had given her adiamond ! Unfortunately, it would be difficult to sell promptly for its true value. And she needed money immediately. But then, she’d already snared a gold watch from his bag and some silverware from the dinner settings.
He wisely said nothing to her comment. She wasn’t keen on answering his questions, but she figured she’d have to until she could either eat more or pocket more of the silver. “Sometimes I deal cards and sell cigarettes at a café near Montmartre.” She shrugged as she drank. “If not that, then I run a shell game at fairs or bet themutuels on the side.”
“I saw the book by your bed. Doona tell me you consider yourself a Bohemian.”
“Not at all. The book is recent and set in a neighboring quarter. I was merely picking up tips on getting things for free. I have no sympathy for them, even the ones who are poorer than I am.” She absently murmured, “Do you know how hard you would have to work to be poorer than me?” Shaking her head, she said, “Many of them purposely leave their wealthy families to come starve in La Marais.”
“Quin told me your mother and stepfather live in St. Roch. Did you no’ do the same by leaving?”
“My reason for leaving St. Roch had nothing to do withpretension . And it’s a matter I don’t wish to discuss.”
“What kind of woman lets her daughter live in the slum?”
Maddy set her glass down and rose, turning toward the door.
He lunged for her wrist, moving swiftly for such a big man. “Just wait,” he said, gritting his teeth as though in pain.
She glared at his hand. “I’ve told you I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I will no’ bring it up again.” He released her and she swished back to her chair, resuming her drinking. “But I wonder that you’re so inclined to leave when you’ve no’ even heard why I’m here.”
“Yes, your ‘proposition.’ I’m quite certain I know what it is. You as much as told me so that night.”
“Aye, I’d thought about setting you up as my mistress. And it seems you might have waited in London until I returned, if this life was what you faced.”
“I didn’t want to be your mistress. That would mean I would have to repeat the actions of that night.” She shuddered. “I think I might rather die. The only way I’d ever endure that again is in marriage—”
“Then it appears I’ll be marrying you,” he grated.
She gave him a look of pure disgust. “I have had a day like no other, MacCarrick. I really don’t need to sit here and listen to this.”
“What if I told you I came here specifically for you? To collect you and take you to Scotland to wed?”
“I’m in no mood for your jesting.” She stared at his impassive face with dawning horror. “Oh, Lord, you’re…serious.Marriage is what you’ve decided needs to be done with me?” In a panicked tone, she said, “I only mentioned marriage because I was certain you’d violently balk again!”
He glowered at that, then seemed not to know how to proceed, running his hand over the back of his neck.
“You actually thought I’d welcome your proposal?” she sputtered in disbelief. The arrogance! “You looked at my ‘hovel’ and thought I’d weep with joy and consider you my savior. Should I fall to my knees?”
“I think no,’ else all that silver stowed in your skirt pocket will clink about like chimes.”
She quirked an eyebrow. She didn’t get detected often, and she’d been careful tonight. He was good. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
To his credit, he didn’t press that subject, instead returning to the proposal. “It would make sense that you might be pleased to receiveany offer of marriage.”
“You told me you wouldnever be moved to marry.” She made her tone woeful. “Oh, if only I’d listened! Then I wouldn’t have tried to trap you seconds later.”
“Things have changed. Recently I was injured, and it brought my life into focus. I have a title, and I’ve realized I need an heir, so I must marry.”
“What’s your title?”
“I’m an earl in Scotland. The Earl of Kavanagh.”
“Planning to make me acountess ?” she breathed with wide eyes. “How novel! I’venever heard that one in Montmartre.”
“It’s true.”
“And why would you choose me?”
“None of my options seemed enticing, and then I thought of you. After I asked around and learned much about you, I determined we would suit. You’re known to have a steady, practical personality, and to be intelligent.”
“You could make a much more advantageous match.”
“You underestimate your charms.”
“No, I don’t. I know I’m pretty and intelligent, but I have no connections—and no dowry. In case you haven’t gathered, I’m abysmally poor.”
“I have no need of connections and have more money than either of us could possibly spend in a lifetime. I can choose my bride based only on if I find herpretty andintelligent .”
She quirked an eyebrow at that. “Why do you thinkI would actually haveyou ?”
“You told me at the masquerade that you wanted to marry a man with money. I have money. You told me you wanted an expensive ring, and I’ve given you one worth a small fortune. You’ll be a countess and have more wealth and homes at your disposal than you’ve dreamed of.”
Homes and wealth? Countess?Was this odd Scot genuine? Hadn’t she just begged for one break? One pause in the endless series of heartaches?
And then this MacCarrick just happened to show up at her door, proposing?
No! Gifts don’t fall from heaven like this! Not for me. Something is off!
“All you have to do is leave Paris with me. I’ll wed you in Scotland.”
“Why not marry here inla ville lumière ?” In a dry tone, she said, “You’re clearly such a romantic, and thisis Paris…”
“Because I’m the laird of my clan, and I’m expected to marry at the MacCarrick seat with a grand wedding for all the clan to enjoy. And marrying in front of witnesses from my county in Scotland will help ensure my children inherit without challenge.” When she remained unconvinced, he quietly said, “Money, protection, a life of ease are all within your grasp. Marriage to me is that repulsive a proposition?” He absently dashed the back of his hand over his scar.
“Yes, and before you begin thinking it’s because of your face”—he dropped his hand, seeming surprised he’d been touching it—“I’ll ask you to hark back to your behavior that night. You ruined what could have been,should have been, wonderful. I thought I had a firm grasp of what cruelty was, but you educated me further.”
“It was no’ that bad—”
“Yes, I’ve heard some women enjoy overeager Highlanders pawing at them, nearly ripping their clothes off, then delivering excruciating pain. For some reason, I just couldn’t understand the appeal.” She shrugged. “I’ll bet it eats at you, knowing that I found you to be a horrible lover.”
The black look he gave her was rewarding. “Given the chance to do things over, I’d have done them differently.”
“Is that supposed to be an apology?”
“I doona believe in apologies. Instead, I’m offering you a future, which is more valuable.”
“That night, you kept going even though I was hurt.”
“I dinna know—”
“You mean to tell me that an experienced man of the world couldn’t tell when a woman beneath him is in pain and on the verge of sobbing?”
Did he stifle a wince? “You had a mask on. I could no’ see your tears. And I swear to you, I stopped as soon as I realized.”
“Right. And then you…you finished what you’d started, adding to the humiliation.”
“I dinna intend to humiliate you. That was…involuntary.”
She frowned. “Involuntary? What does…?” She trailed off, feeling herself flush at the notion of him overcome with lust. “Oh. Well, the fact remains that even when you realized, you almost didn’t stop.”
“But I did. And one day you’ll understand just how goddamned difficult that was.” He looked to the right of her and said absently, “It’s hard for you to imagine because you were feeling pain, but I was no’.” His brows drew together as if remembering the encounter right then—an idea that made her shiver. “I was feeling more pleasure than I had in years.”
“Then whydid you stop?”
“I dinna want to hurt you.” He turned back to meet her eyes. “I suppose that means I’m no’ yet thoroughly beyond redemption.”
“Redemption? I hope you didn’t come here expectingme to redeem you, MacCarrick, because if so, you’ve chosen the wrong girl.”
“No, I came here expecting you to marry me.” Raking his heated gaze over her, he said, “And I think I got her right.”
Nineteen
Ethan was confounded by how much shewasn’t jumping at this opportunity.
“So how rich are you? As rich as Quin?”
“No. Quite a deal more than Quin.”
Instead of being pleased by this, her face turned cold. “You’re rich, titled, and not too terribly old. You could have anyone you wanted. Yet you chose a dowryless girl you don’t know?”
Too terribly old?“I’ve already explained this.”
“And I don’t accept your explanation. Something is wrong with you or your situation, and you’re hiding it. You chose me, a foreign girl, so I wouldn’t have heard about unsavory predilections or tales of gin-swilling or shaky finances—”
“I doona drink liquor. My finances are solid.” He wondered why he sounded so fierce about this, when he had no intention of marrying her. “And the only unsavory predilection I have is that I plan to use you well, until we’re both spent, every single night.”
Her face screwed up into an expression of distaste. “Would you really want me, knowing that the only reason I’d accept a man like you is because I’d rather forgo hunger pangs and torture by henchmen?”
“Does no’ matter why. Just that you do.”
“It doesn’t feel right to me. I know how aristocratic lords are—there’salways something wrong, always some secret.” Though he wouldn’t have thought it possible, he realized she was more cynical than he was.
In a deliberate tone, he asked, “Are the reasons why I have no’ made a match no’ obvious?”
“Because of your foot-long scar?” She rolled her eyes.
“Damn it, witch, it’s no’ that long,” he said between gritted teeth.
“Maybe it’s not if you measure end to end, but if you trace every turn, it is.”
How badly he’d wanted a woman to acknowledge the scar, to get the awkwardness out of the way. And here this chit was looking him in the eyes, facing him fully, discussing it—but not in any manner he’d ever imagined. “You’re daft.”
With a huff of irritation, she crossed to his spot on the bed. She lifted a knee to the edge, tilting her head as she studied his face. She smelled of strawberries and sweet woman, and his cock shot harder. He was struggling not to clutch her waist and roll her to the bed—
She…touchedhis scar.
Biting her lip, concentrating, she traced her finger along it.
A beautiful woman was touching his face—analyzingit. The mark was disgusting—why wasn’t she repelled?
When she apparently couldn’t get the length she’d claimed, shetugged on his face. He willed himself not to snatch her hand away, anxious to see what she would do next.What will she say? What will she call me…?
At last, she simply seemed to grow bored with it. “Well, perhaps I was wrong,” she conceded. “But the scaris big—very big. How did you get it? Did it hurt?”
“Of course, it bloody hurt,” he snapped, reminded as ever that she was the daughter of the one who’d dealt him that blow.
She drew back from him, the intimacy lost. Then assuming a haughty expression, she clucked her tongue. “Running with scissors, Scot?”
“One day, I’ll tell you all about it,” he lied.
She huffed back to her spot on the floor and mouthed, “Big” to him before plucking up another strawberry.
“Well, thank you for dinner and the ring,” Maddy said half an hour later as she rose to leave. “Both proved agreeable.”
“Madeleine, the watch you’ve pocketed belonged to my father’s father. You canna have that one, but I’d be glad to get you another.”
She jutted her chin up, digging for it and tossing it on the bed.
“And you managed to get that candle holder you were eyeing into your pocket, too?”
Deuce it, how had he seen her?
“Commendable,sionnach .”
“What does that word mean?”
“It means ‘fox.’ That’s what you remind me of.”
“Do you know what you remind me of? A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Tonight you’ve been more civil, but it’s obvious to me that it’s a strain on you. It’s not your nature.”
“Aye, that might be true,” he said, surprising her with his honesty. “I’m no’ polite, nor am I one for wooing and compliments. I say what’s on my mind whether a lady’s in the room or no’, but—”
“But if I look past the tarnished surface,” she interrupted in a saccharine tone, clasping her hands to her chest, “there’s a good man beneath? Just waiting for the right woman to turn him around? Tell that to Blue-Eyed Bea. She believes it again and again. I do not.” She put her hand on the doorknob.
“No, I was no’ going to say I’m a good man. I canna make that claim. And I doona believe a man can change his nature. But I was going to point out that I’m likely the best you’re going to get. I will no’ ever strike you, you will never want for anything, and you will never have to back down to anyone again. There’s a reason you have no’ asked the Weylands for help. You’re prideful. Why no’ go back to England as their equal?”
“On the surface, this seems logical.” So why did she feel like she was about to pocket a scarf and a hidden gendarme was watching her every move? She suddenly narrowed her eyes, suspicion flaring. “You’ve never asked me about my proposal, the one I told you I had waiting in the wings.”
“It was obvious to me that you had no’ and would no’ accept him if you were still living in poverty, and the last thing I wanted to do was remind you of another candidate.”
“No, I was ready to accept him, buthe refusedme . After waiting for so long, he was suspicious of my virtue.”
MacCarrick’s brows drew together. “Do you think I could possibly have something to do with that? Of course, I wrote him of my conquest.” When she remained unconvinced, he said, “Which begs the question: Why did you keep him waiting?”
“I had a bad feeling.”
Instead of scoffing, he nodded and said, “Do you have a bad feeling now?”
“I don’t know.” She couldn’t tell. She was exhausted, bewildered, and probably drunk. She didn’t think she should believe him, but if she trusted her instincts…“I just need some time to think about all this.”Am I doing something to leave myself vulnerable? “It’s a big step.”
He ran his hand over his face. “Then at least stay here. What happens if you get caught by those henchmen? They’ll take you straight to their boss.”
“Inever get caught.” That wasn’t true. She had been caught several times, but no one had ever made it to the police station with her in tow.
When she opened the door, he quickly rose, and his hand shot to her elbow. “Going out into the night again? That is out of the question.” He seemed alarmed at the idea of her escaping him. “Damn it, Madeleine, would it be so terrible to have a man take care of you? To protect you?”
Protect?She swallowed, the image of the ladies in the boulangerie flashing in her mind. Had the dream ever been this close…?
“I’m no’ leaving Paris without you, lass.” Softening his tone, he said, “You’re going to be mine—I doona know what I have to do to effect that, but it must be so.”
Maddy knew men. They could feign love and affection easily, yet jealousy, when absent, was hard to conjure. She’d noted the look of rage on MacCarrick’s face when the man had asked if he was done with her. She’d seen how swiftly he’d pulled his gun.
He was possessive already.So why am I so afraid of this? She could establish parameters to protect herself, limit her vulnerabilities.
De mal en pire. From bad to worse. Was she afraid to take this chance because she didn’t trust him—or because La Marais had already beaten her?
Never.Fortune favors the bold.
And that’s when she knew she was going to go along with this. “I will consider your proposal.”
He exhaled and schooled his features, but she’d seen he was relieved—very much so.
“But I have some conditions….”
Twenty
“The hell we’re no’ having sex till we’re married!”
“I’m in earnest, Scot. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
He’d just been fighting an overpowering sense of relief that she was staying when she’d thrown these ridiculous conditions in his face. “I will no’ question you about your past, and, aye, I’ll be faithful to you. Fine, I agree to those conditions. As for your wanting to start a family right away—then, aye, God willing,” he baldly lied. “I’ll certainly do my part to contribute. But the fourth condition is unacceptable. I’ve a man’s needs, and they will no’ simply disappear during our engagement—”
She strode for the door. Why had he ever assumed this would be easy?
“Those are my terms,” she said without looking back. “I think I’m being very generous.”
“So am I. The ring you’re walking away with will keep you in apples for many a year.”
She turned to him. “I don’t evenlike you.”
“Yet I have it on good authority that you did once.”
Her lips thinned, and he wagered she was silently vowing to kill her friends. “Worse, you don’t even like me.”
He didn’t bother denying it. He was feeling a lot of things about her, buta liking for her was not one of them. “You’re negotiating with me as if you have a leg to stand on. Where does a girl like you get the ballocks to risk losing a man with money and power who’s willing to marry her? You’ve been ruined, remember? Most wealthy men would only accept a virgin. Since I relieved you of yours, this is your good fortune that I’m still interested.”
“I know that I’m not negotiating from a position of power—but I don’t trust you. Ifiercely don’t trust you.”
“Do you want this condition for leverage or because you fear me getting a bairn on you before marriage?”
“Both,” she readily admitted.
Seeing that she would hold firm on this for now, he said, “Fine. I’ll agree that we’ll wait—if you vow to slake me in other ways, whenever I want it.” When she frowned at him, he said, “I doona care how I’m satisfied—just that I am.”
“You’re only saying that because you think you can seduce me to do more.”
That was precisely what he’d planned. He didn’t like how she continued to anticipate his moves.
“It won’t happen because I have no interest in you that way,” she added.
“You’ll learn to want me again.”
“You’re amazing! If your behavior didn’t kill any spark of desire for you, then your true appearance did.”
He narrowed his eyes, stalking toward her. When he’d backed her against the wall, he reached his hand out to cup her nape. “You canna deny you enjoyed my kiss,” he said as he slowly drew her into his chest.
Her breaths shallowed. “B-because I believed you were different then.”
“Do you ever think about what happened in the carriage before I took you?”
When her cheeks grew flushed, he had his answer.
“I do,” he admitted. “I think about it. Constantly.” He knew he needed to use a measured seduction to get what he wanted. Though it took will, he moved his hand from gripping her neck to cradling her face. “And I remember that you liked the way I kissed you and stroked you.”
She gazed at his lips, with her brows drawn as if she was thinking of it just then.
He leaned down and murmured at her ear, “You were so close to coming for me.”
She gasped, shivering against him.
Nuzzling her neck down past her choker, he said, “Why do you think you will no’ enjoy it again?” Their ragged breaths were the only sounds in the room. “I’m going to kiss you now, and if you doona respond, then I’ll leave and never bother you again. If you do…then you’re mine.”
“I’m not going to agree to that…”She swallowed. “Agree to your ridiculous”—he drew in closer—“little test.” Her hands were balled against his chest. “Silly, really…”
He slowly slanted his mouth over hers, but she tensed, pushing against him. He didn’t release her, just continued to tease her lips with his tongue. After long moments, her fists relaxed, and she rested her palms against him.
At last, her lips parted for him, letting him taste her as he’d wanted to for weeks. She brushed her hands up from his chest, twining her fingers at his neck, pressing her body against him so sweetly.
When he deepened the contact, she gave a whimper, then began kissing him back, filling him with a sense of triumph. Maybe she didn’t find him repulsive. Why would she feign this? Her lapping tongue made his blood race, made him want to reach down and cup her arse to grind her against him. He’d been prepared to seduce, to cajole, to pleasure her. But he hadn’t been prepared to lose himself from a mere kiss—again.
She tugged on his neck, rubbing against his front, and he groaned. How could she render him so crazed so swiftly? He was already nearing the edge of his control, fighting the nearly irresistible urge to toss her to the bed and mindlessly cover her.
With a will he hadn’t known he possessed, he forced himself to release her. After struggling to collect his thoughts and to catch his breath, he rasped, “It does no’ have to be bad, Madeleine. I’ll teach you to trust me again, and we can bring each other pleasure.”
She looked stunned, guarded, almost worse than before, so he tried to make his tone light. “Though I think after a couple of days, you’ll find it easier just to lie back and receive me.”
“Why? Is it difficult to please you? It didn’t seem that much so in the carriage.”
He clenched his jaw and forced himself to even his tone. “No’ necessarily. It’s just that you’ll be doing it three or four times a day.”
“With a man of your advanced years?”
Advanced years? By God, Iamgoing to throttle her. “Let’s just say that I’ve got a lot to make up for. And it begins tonight.”
“I haven’t agreed, MacCarrick.”
“You will. But before you do, I reserve the right to try to seduce you completely.”
After a long hesitation, she said, “I’ll agree,if you’ll get me my own room tonight. As for the other, I guaranteenothing .”
“Why would I get you a room? As of this minute, we’re engaged.” Ach, that sounded unnatural.
“I just want to soak in that tub and think about everything. My head’s spinning.” She swayed on her feet. “Please, if you knew the day I’ve had…”
“How can I be certain you will no’ run off in the night? You did before.”
“If I promise not to?”
“I will give you some time to bathe, but from now on, we share a room.”
She exhaled, then reluctantly nodded.
“I’ll return in half an hour,” he said before leaving. As he made his way downstairs to the street, he took in the chill air, trying to shake off her effect on him.
Damn it, he could go a night without touching her—a small sacrifice for the larger plan. He didn’t know how well he’d acquit himself anyway. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a time since he’d decided to journey to Paris for her, and weakness from his injury lingered.
He frowned. How would they sleep tonight? He understood why he’d had to insist they share a room, but it had been strange to do so since he’d never stayed the night with a woman in his entire life. He’d shuddered at the prospect of waking to most of them and had resented even theidea of the intrusion into his life.
After sex, when they’d sighed, reaching for him with their clinging arms, he’d bolted every time. Throwing on his clothes as he hastened out into rain, snow, or whatever element—he’d just made sure he escaped.Clingers, every bloody one of them .
Women had a lamentable and ridiculous tendency to conflate sex and affection, not understanding that these were two distinct scenarios—and that he only had interest in the former. Ethan thought they ought not go together at all….
A laughing older couple, clearly married, passed him on their way into the hotel. He studied them, supposing some people had success with matrimony. Ethan’s own parents had been deeply in love. But then, their union had ended in tragedy. Would his brothers fare better—
Did Madeleine really just agree to marry me?
If he took away the charade, the fact remained that she’d acceptedhis proposal—after seeing his face.
He scowled. The only way a man who looked like him could land a beauty like her was because she was starving and in danger and she believed he could protect her. The only reason he was so repulsive was because of what her parents had done to him.
In his mind, she was his. He wasowed her. Owed the use of her soft body. In fact, it was his due to touch her anytime he pleased. Hadn’t he told her she’d satisfy him whenever he desired it?
So why had he left now? Anger simmering, he stomped back up the stairs to stake his claim.
Twenty-one
As Maddy sat in the vast plunge tub, rinsing complimentary lavender shampoo from her hair, she mused that she might—just maybe—have gotten back on her feet.
Just with that ring, currently threaded on her length of ribbon and glinting at her from the nearby bureau, she could dig her way out of debt.
And if the Scot genuinely wanted to marry her, she’d be rich! A countess even.
She leaned back in the hot water—so high it practically hit her shoulders—allowing herself to relax as the steam rose all around her. She definitely could get used to this.
Maddy frowned. But then she’d have to allow him to make love to her. If only he could do that part as well as he kissed. Nevertheless, she could endure much to receive all this. And at least she’d come to believe that he hadn’t meant to hurt her that night. He’d flinched every time she brought it up.
She opened her eyes—
He was just there, watching her!
Shooting to her feet, she dove for a bath towel. She yanked it over her shoulders like a blanket, but she feared that with his eagle eyes, he’d seen her arm. How had she not heard him come in? “You said you’d give me half an hour!”
“And you said you’d satisfy me whenever I wanted it. I want it now.” He removed his jacket. “Drop the towel.”
“I-I never agreed to be naked!”
“You want me to marry you without ever seeing your body in the light?”
“Most do!”
In a flash, his hand shot out, stripping her of the towel. When she grappled for it, he whirled her around, and with his grip both gentle and firm, he pinned her wrists together behind her. He was maneuvering her as if he was searching for her scar, but the sight of her breasts seemed to stop him.
His voice roughened. “I only got to see these in shadow before.” He made some growling sound, and his big palm covered one. She froze at the shock of heat. He hissed in a breath.
Would he still want her after seeing her body completely? She wouldn’t want him anyway! Why couldn’t she have bigger breasts? She squeezed her eyes closed, mortified.
Softly kneading her flesh, he grated, “No bigger than a teacup.”
Maddy wanted todie .
“You might beintelligent , but you’re no’pretty ,” he sneered.
Die immediately.
He dropped his hand to palm her bottom, and low masculine sounds broke from his chest. “You’re bloodybeautiful .” He sounded infuriated by that fact.
She peeked open her eyes and found his muscles tensed. His erection was huge, straining against his trousers.
Beautiful? After he’s seen me naked in the light?
His hand began rubbing all over her, along her hips, over her belly and breasts, as if he didn’t know where to touch her next—as if he was overwhelmed by a bounty. His brows drawn, his breaths haggard, he said, “So fair…”
Though he was clothed and scrutinizing her, Maddy’s pleasure heightened with each stroke.He thinks I’m beautiful. The idea was so pleasing…her eyelids fluttered closed. The more he touched her, the more she wanted just to lie back and let him explore her like this.What is happening to me?
When he swept a hand over the curls between her thighs and rasped, “The color of your light hair,” she shivered, having to stifle a moan.
“Aye, just let me look at you, lass,” he bit out once she relaxed in his hold.
When he released her hands, she took a breath, as though gathering courage. He could tell she had the urge to cover herself—she blushed and glanced sharply away—but she didn’t.
He’d taken her virginity, enjoyed her, touched her, and had never comprehended—or savored—exactly how lovely her body was.
The room’s lamp cast light over her pale, smooth shoulders. Her long hair cascaded in wet curls, brushing over her hardened nipples. His gaze followed the rivulets of water sluicing down from her breasts to her belly and lower, and he hungered to follow that trail with his tongue and lips.
He heard a low rumbling sound and was surprised to find it came from within him.
She was slim, but somehow shapely, utterly womanly. Her hips flared from her tiny waist, giving her an hourglass shape. Her arse could not be more pert and lush. And the two dimples above it…? Ethan stifled a groan. He wanted to press his thumbs over them as he held her in place and thrust against her.
But her sensuous little breasts riveted him…. They were small yet high and plump, and her nipples were so sensitive, budding with the lightest touch. Though he remembered he’d always preferred heavy, full breasts, after cupping hers in his palm, he couldn’t quite recall why.
She was perfect—but for one thing. His attention turned to her scar, the one she hadn’t wanted him to see. He took her elbow and tugged her closer to the steam-fogged lamp, raising her arm. The mark covered about a third of the bottom of her forearm and looked like a typical burn scar, with white twisting lines contained within borders of red.
“You broke it, too?”
Her eyes widened before she made her face blank.
“When?”
She shrugged as best as she could with her arm seized. “I don’t know. It happened a long time ago.”
“You raised your arm against something that was burning. And it broke the bone.”
Now her lips parted. “How could you…why would you say that?”
“I know scars.” His lips curled in a bitter smile. “Where were you in a fire?”
She hesitated just a heartbeat, then said in a blithe tone, “At a manor we lived in. When I was younger. One of the servants was drunk and careless with his pipe.”
“In other words, your garret caught fire from a drunken tenant.”
She shuddered, then whispered, “I wasn’t always poor, MacCarrick. I did live in a mansion, and there were servants and parties and friends.”
“Aye, I know that.”I’m the one who took it all away. “Or you’d hardly be friends with the Weylands.”
“W-will you please let me go?”
His chest felt heavy and uncomfortable again, goading him until he released her.
She sank down into the water, her back to him, streams of her hair curling down. Her shoulders curved in miserably. Her ribs were visible, not terribly bad, but enough to show she’d missed meals.
Goddamn it.This was not the time to be developing a conscience. He cast about for something, anything, then recalled how much she’d insulted him this evening. “You’ve a lot of nerve to comment onmy scar.”
She sucked in a breath.
He knew why he might be moved to say something like that at a time like this, but he wasn’t too far gone toward absolute cruelty to understand why hemightn’t have said it.
“Stand up and come here,” he demanded. “I want to touch you more.”
“No! It’s bad enough baring my body to you, but to be ridiculed—”
“Ridiculed?” he asked, incredulous. “There’s no’ anything to ridicule!”
“The th-thing you said about my scar. And about my…my breasts being small.”
“You did repeatedly insult me tonight, and it’s no’ as if I need you to remind me what I look like.”
She peeked over her shoulder, her cheeks even more flushed.Does she feel guilty for her insults?
“As for your breasts, if you could no’ tell by the raging cockstand I had while touching them, or when I outright told you I find you beautiful, I’ll say it plain: I look at your wee body and reasoned thought leaves my brain. So if you want to see a man lose his mind, you’ll come to me and let me touch you more.” When she still didn’t rise from the water, he said, “If you doona want my hands on you again, then come touch me.”
She nibbled her lip at that. A promising enough answer for him. He promptly began to strip down, pulling his shirt over his head.
“Uh, wait! I don’t want to do that either….” She trailed off, brows drawn as she stared at the stitches in his chest. “What happened to you?”
“Doona worry. It’ll soon scar, and you’ll have more to belittle about me.”
Ignoring his comment, she said, “You’ve lost weight, too. Is this the injury you spoke of?”
“Aye.”
“What happened?” When he didn’t answer, she quirked an eyebrow. “Scot, you really must stop running with scissors.”
“You are such a daft lass.” As he sat on a cushioned stool, removing his boots, he found himself telling her, “I was shot.”