Kresley Cole - [MacCarrick Brothers 03]

by If You Deceive

  The overjoyed modiste had used her break to tally their bill, saving him time when paying. He thought Madeleine was going to faint when she sneaked a glance at the total. But he would have spent twenty times that if he’d known how he was to be rewarded.

  As the girls wrapped the bottles of champagne and fitted them into a narrow carrying basket, Ethan told the modiste that he’d wire directions for shipping the rest of Madeleine’s clothing once they finished tailoring them. Whatever was completed today, they should send to his hotel.

  When he and Madeleine exited the shop and he offered her his arm, she took it without hesitation. On the street, passersby gave them openly quizzical glances. He knew they wondered what she was doing with him, which reminded him that he used to be handsome. Before, he would have been a fitting match for her. Instead, he was a man who had to spend money on a woman to get her attention.

  Ethan was feeling something for her, some kind of appreciation for what had just happened between them, but that only disgusted him. He was like a starving wolf that had been fed a scrap and was happy to get it—a thirty-three-year-old man grateful to have his cock stroked. He ground his teeth, seething. He was never supposed to have ended up this way.

  And her parents were to blame for everything.

  Things used to be black and white. He was a man not bound by any fixed moral code; she was the daughter of two people who’d wronged him.

  How could there possibly be any hesitation or second thoughts about what he was planning?

  There wouldn’t be. All he cared about was getting her beneath him enough times to work her from his system.

  “Thank you for today,” she said, smiling up at him. Was she pleased with him because he’d spent a fortune on her or because she’d enjoyed what had happened between them? Why did he even care?

  “You’re welcome,” he said, for probably the first time in his life.

  When they arrived by cab in La Marais and he helped her down, the streets were harried and chaotic once more. Madeline stood out here like a diamond in dust.

  “Oh, look, there’s Berthé!” she whispered. “The one who tripped me last night. Make sure she sees us.”

  He hid a frown. Did Madeleine want to be seen with him? Or did she only want to show off her new finery? Just when he’d decided on the latter, he felt a distinctly proprietary patting on his arse.

  “Madeleine,” he growled in warning, and she yanked her hand up.

  “Sorry,” she murmured. “I just couldn’t resist.”

  Why was he oddly…flattered?

  At her building, he followed Madeleine inside and to the stairwell. “Hold onto the rope,” she said, taking the bottles and hastening ahead of him as though she could see in the dark.

  As soon as the stair head groaned, Bea’s door swung open, but it was Corrine who rushed out to meet them. “Toumard’s men came by again,” she said. “You have to get out of here, Maddy! They roughed up Bea—”

  “What?” Madeleine cried. “Bea?”

  Corrine nodded. “She wouldn’t tell them where you’d gone, and then she had to go and spit in one’s face. She’ll be all right, but she’s lying down now, resting.”

  The news of this threat made that feeling of protectiveness for Madeleine surge in him again. “Go check on Bea,” Ethan told her. “Corrine will tell me what happened.”

  Once Madeleine hurried to Bea’s room and softly closed the door behind her, Corrine said, “I see that look in your eyes. You really are going to take care of Maddy from now on.”

  He hesitated before giving her a quick nod. “Madeleine accepted my proposal.”

  Corrine sighed in relief.

  “But I need to know some things about her past, and the lass is tight-lipped.” When Corrine nodded ruefully, he asked, “How did she burn her arm?”

  “Oh, that was in the fire of forty-seven. Her building went up like a wick, and she was trapped upstairs. She very nearly lost her arm and came close to losing her life.”

  If she had been eleven or twelve, she’d just been forced away from her home to move to a foreign city. Her father had just died….

  “That’s one of the reasons Maddy’s so terrified of Toumard—his men love to break arms,” she continued. “Maddy’s been like a cat sidling round a boiling pot of porridge these last few weeks. Fit to break your heart.”

  The idea of her being afraid, day after day…

  Toumard was as good as dead.

  “Why does Madeleine no’ live with her mother?”

  Corrine lowered her voice. “Well, she doesn’t like people to know this, but her mother’s…dead.”

  “You canna be serious,” he snapped. She nodded, and suddenly all Ethan could hear was his heart pounding in his ears. “Dead…”

  All the time I’ve wasted hating, wanting to hurt someone—someone who didn’t even exist any longer….

  Corrine’s hands twined. “Maddy’s been an orphan for years. Her mother died when Maddy was fourteen.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “An orphan.”

  Ethan had thought he’d been hell-bound before. Now there was no doubt. He gave a bitter laugh. This must be a jest.

  He’d deflowered a penniless waif. An orphan.

  “She had friends in England,” Ethan said. “When her mother died, she could have petitioned them for help, and they would gladly have given it.”

  “She’d been here for some time already. Living in La Marais makes you feel a bit…worthless, especially in the young. She was ashamed. The only reason she went after that man in England was because Bea and I wouldn’t let it rest. We eventually got her to promise to try before she married Le Daex.”

  “Le Daex, the count?” he demanded. “Her mother didn’t arrange that?”

  “Yes, years ago. But after she died, Maddy ran away before the wedding. We only recently revived that cull with La Daex. But all it did was get Maddy in debt.”

  And put an unprotected young woman under Toumard’s notice.

  Ethan supposed he’d hoped Madeleine had been close to Sylvie, that they were two of a kind. Instead, Sylvie was dead, and Madeleine had suffered destitution for years by Ethan’s hand, bearing the brunt of a revenge meant for another. She’d suffered alone.

  And Ethan had planned to hurt her worse.

  How could it be worse for her? He remembered the look on her face as she’d picked herself up in that tavern. How many times had she had to do just that over the last ten years here…?

  Just walk away.

  This information, taken with the way Madeleine had said his name like a bloody benediction—with that undisguised longing…Even I’m no’ cruel enough to do anything more to her.

  He briefly closed his eyes as he finally admitted the truth to himself. He had come here because he wanted Madeleine. The revenge aspect only allowed him to justify the idea of a man like him using a young innocent like her.

  If you are no’ bent on punishing her, then what right do you have to her?

  None. None whatsoever.

  He couldn’t take her away to hurt her, and he sure as hell couldn’t keep her. He’d fix her problem with the lender, then get out of her life. Hell, he could even send some money later.

  Abandon her here? After he’d convinced her that he was taking her with him?

  What choice did he have? If he took her away, would he find himself saddled with her? He had a profession, a solitary one, and he wanted to get back to it. Damn it, I doona want to get stuck with her.

  Help her, then leave her. Of course. “Tell me how to find Toumard.”

  Twenty-six

  “Shouldn’t you be resting?” Maddy asked when Bea rose from the bed and dressed.

  “Maddée, if I rested every time I had a blue eye,” she said in a deliberate tone as though explaining to a child, “I would do little else, n’est-ce pas? Now, let’s sit on your balcony and you can tell me everything that happened last night.”

  When Bea opened her door, MacCarrick and
Corrine appeared to have just finished their conversation. His stony gaze flickered over Bea’s eye, and his jaw clenched.

  To Maddy, he said, “I’ll return soon.”

  “Are you going to see Toumard?” At his short nod, she said, “Can I come with you?”

  “Absolutely no’. Stay here, enjoy a going-away drink together.”

  “Very well,” she finally said, confused by his mood change. He seemed to have trouble looking her in the eyes just before he left them to wait in Maddy’s apartment.

  The three had just agreed to sell the pricey bottles when the door opened once more. MacCarrick had returned.

  To open the champagne.

  “Some things are meant to be enjoyed in the moment, are they no’?” he said, with another fuming glance at Bea’s face. To Maddy, he added, “So that you doona go out to sell it by the glass…”He filled her new reticule with cash.

  Her jaw dropped at the wad of money. “This is four hundred francs! Do you want me to go buy a piano? Or a cabriolet?”

  “Un bateau!” Bea cried with a clap. “A boat!”

  Maddy leaned into her, play-shoving her with her shoulder. MacCarrick didn’t come close to smiling.

  “Well, let’s pour it up!” Corrine said, taking out chipped porcelain mugs from under Maddy’s stove. When she offered a cup to MacCarrick, he waved his share away. “Doona drink.”

  “Plus pour nous,” Bea said, her tone delighted. More for us. Even after her run-in with the henchmen, Bea was likely deeming this one of the best days of her life.

  “I’ll be back,” MacCarrick said to Maddy with a curt nod.

  “Please be careful, Scot.”

  When the door shut behind MacCarrick once more and they heard him stomping down the stairs, Bea fanned herself and whispered, “I’m in love. Maddée, do you know he sent us lobsters last night? I’m not jesting.” She added with a sigh, “Pretty lobsters…”

  Maddy grinned. MacCarrick was turning out to be such a…surprise, giving her a new day, a new beginning. She hurried to the balcony to watch him striding away. So tall, strapping, confident. Just as he had been the first time she’d spotted him—when he’d been hunting for her.

  “I think you might have a diamond in the rough there,” Corrine said behind her.

  Maddy was beginning to think so, as well. In London, he’d been the first person ever to fight for her—and now he was marching out to do battle again.

  “Très viril,” Bea added, joining them.

  There was that, too. She blushed to recall the way he’d pleasured her so perfectly in the shop—twice. She believed that her nights spent tossing in her sheets, yearning and lonely, were ended.

  “Now, Maddy girl,” Corrine began with a sniffle, “we’ve got to drink two bottles of champagne and get you packed by the time your fiancé comes back.”

  Maddy nodded, then set about divvying between her two friends the new cash windfall, her stash of coupons, and her contraband. After she’d packed the few things that were dear to her, they sat outside drinking and awaiting his return.

  She was stunned to realize this could be the last time the three ever sat here like this. “If he’s legitimate, I’ll send more money as soon as I can.” In fact, she’d be sending for them, but she didn’t want to get their hopes up before she knew if she could trust him implicitly.

  “And if he’s not legitimate?” Bea asked.

  Maddy hesitated. “Corrine, can you hold my room for a couple of months, just in case?”

  “Naturally,” Corrine said, then added, “but I do hope this works out with him. Just remember, Maddy, with a man that strong-willed, you’ll get more with honey than with vinegar.”

  She sipped her champagne. “And if I run out of honey…?”

  What would be worse for her? Ethan thought on the way back from killing Toumard. Mixed up with a man like myself or left behind?

  At heart, Ethan was a selfish bastard. If he took her away, eventually this superficial noble streak would fade. A man canna change his nature.

  Get away from her…just bloody think about this for a while. Doona do anything drastic.

  But the idea of leaving her behind felt so wrong that it pained him physically.

  If Maddy didn’t get out of this slum, then at best, she’d become like Corrine—working to the bone, old before her time. Or she could become like Bea—or worse. Then Madeleine would have some man lifting her skirts in a reeking alley while his friend waited.

  Ethan’s fists clenched even now. If Toumard had had his way, that would have been her within mere weeks.

  Ethan had already known he’d have to kill Toumard. When the man had coldly informed him what he’d been planning to do to Madeleine—sample her before putting her to work—Ethan had burned to. He would have shot him in cold blood if Toumard hadn’t drawn on him.

  Breaking the arms of the henchmen…? Well, that had merely been sport.

  If Ethan left Madeleine, there were a thousand more like Toumard eager to prey on a girl like her, and she now had no marriage prospects. Except for bloody Quin. Ethan would have to remember that. As soon as Quin learned that Ethan had left her alone, he’d come charging down to Paris to save her. Perhaps Ethan should let him.

  The thought of them together clawed at him.

  Damn it, do nothing drastic…. Ethan was a man who liked to have a plan. Now that his initial one was absolutely extinguished, he cast about for what to do next. The facts: The most desirable woman he’d ever beheld desired him back. He’d contributed to her painful past and could ease her troubles now. He’d vowed that he wouldn’t rest until he’d had her again, and when he made decisions, he bloody stuck by them. He would take her away, seduce her, then settle money on her. He’d be getting her out of this place—in the end, she’d be thankful.

  Yet when he arrived back at her building, he was still uncertain. Then he found her hurrying from the entrance, her face lit with a relieved smile. Having grown accustomed to expressions of disappointment or fear whenever he arrived somewhere, he looked over his shoulder before catching himself.

  When they reached each other, she appeared to check him over to make sure he wasn’t hurt. Shortly after, Bea and Corrine emerged to see them off, handing Maddy her small bag.

  “Write to us,” Corrine told Madeleine as she wiped away a tear.

  “Of course.” Hugging them both, Madeleine sniffled. “Take care of each other.”

  Bea gave a watery nod, and another round of lingering good-byes ensued before he could steer Madeleine away. As he led her to the top of the hill, she waved over her shoulder until her friends were out of sight.

  While they waited for a cab, Ethan said, “Madeleine, I need to speak with you.” It seemed everyone on every stoop watched them. “I’ve thought of some things.”

  “I see.” She didn’t appear surprised. Had she expected him to disappoint her?

  Why? She sodding liked him. Even his brothers—who Ethan knew would die for him—didn’t seem to like him. He made Court wary, and he continually disappointed Hugh.

  How would Hugh feel, knowing his older brother had taken the virtue of a defenseless girl? Then abandoned her in Paris?

  Hugh’s parting words in London echoed in Ethan’s head. “What if she’s the one?” he’d asked again. “The irony would be that you’ve somehow found her, you actually get to keep her, and yet you intend to hurt her beyond forgiving.”

  But Ethan already had hurt her, well before he’d ever met her. And the longer she was with him, the more likely it was that he’d hurt her again. It was simply his nature; he had no talent at pleasing others.

  Perhaps Madeleine needed to better understand what he was truly like.

  “What do you want to tell me?” Maddy asked, trying to hide her disappointment. She’d known this situation was too good to be true, and now MacCarrick looked as though he was plagued with second thoughts. When he began to speak, only to fall silent, she asked, “Did you pay off Toumard?”

 
; “You owe him nothing,” he replied in a cryptic tone.

  She frowned. “Did you…kill him?”

  “Aye, I plugged a bullet into his skull.” His eyes flickered over her face for her reaction.

  She sighed. A fierce protector returning from battle. When she nodded up at him, he seemed confounded that she wasn’t running away.

  “Damn it, lass, why do you keep looking at me like that? I doona care for it. And I just informed you that I bloody killed a man this morning.”

  Maybe MacCarrick wasn’t having second thoughts—maybe he was merely feeling guilt for what he’d done. “I hope you don’t feel bad about that. La Marais is a better place without Toumard in it. But we do need to get you out of the city. Do you think we can stay aboard the steamer before it departs tomorrow?”

  He froze, then jerked his head back. “I will never figure you out. I ken that now. Because you’re crazed.”

  She waved his comment away. “Did you offer to pay him?” she asked.

  He said nothing.

  “So you offered to pay him, and he refused. He never wanted money from me. He planned to put me to work like Berthé, didn’t he?”

  MacCarrick’s eyes bored into hers, raw fury burning in their dark depths. His voice was seething when he said, “Aye, after he’d bedded you himself.”

  “I see.” She felt a wave of revulsion. “Well, he didn’t leave you much choice. If he refused your money and I left town, he’d just terrorize Bea and Corrine. What did you do to his men?”

  “I broke their goddamned arms.” Whatever he saw in her expression made him snap, “No’ again! Stop lookin’ at me that way—I’ve told you I doona like it.”

  “Yes, very well. But, again, we really have to get you out of here, and quickly.” When a cab passed them, she gave an urgent whistle, but was roundly ignored. She muttered a curse; then suddenly her eyes went wide. “Oh, MacCarrick, what about your injury? You didn’t pull the stitches open, did you?”

  He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, raking his fingers through his hair. “You’re no’…you’re just no’ right in the head if this does no’ bother you. You’re ignoring warning flags about me because you want out of this hellhole so badly.”