Kresley Cole - [MacCarrick Brothers 03]

by If You Deceive

  “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 why did 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 expecting me 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 she wasn’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’s always 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…touched his scar.

  Biting her lip, concentrating, she traced her finger along it.

  A beautiful woman was touching his face—analyzing it. The mark was disgusting—why wasn’t she repelled?

  When she apparently couldn’t get the length she’d claimed, she tugged 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 scar is 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, but he refused me. 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.”

  “I never 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 even like 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, but a 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. I fiercely 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?”

&n
bsp; Advanced years? By God, I am going 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 guarantee nothing.”

  “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 the idea 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….