If You Deceive mb-3

by Kresley Cole

  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—sampleher 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 soddingliked him. Even his brothers—who Ethan knew would die for him—didn't seem tolike 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 Ethanalready 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'recrazed ."

  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."

  "As many times as I've seen death here, Toumard doesn't warrant even a passing thought."

  "Toumard's far from the first man I've killed."

  "I thought as much. I suspect you're involved in some kind of dangerous, secret occupation."

  "Aye, and I would no' give it up—even when married."

  Maddy studied his face. "This isn't about you feeling guilty, is it? You really are trying to get rid of me."

  He said nothing.Deuce it, no!

  She had the ring and the money and clothes. Toumard was taken care of. She had a future again. Why couldn't she just brush this off as a good cull while it lasted?

  Because she wantedhim . She wanted more of his unpracticed smiles. She wanted more of what he'd given her just this morning—unimaginable pleasure.

  "You are."Deny it…deny it! He remained silent. "Then just a suggestion. Do something truly horrible to scare me away. Do something a lot worse than killing a thug—known for maiming young women—in order to protect me and my friends. Now, I'm a big girl," she said with false bravado. "I can take it if you've changed your mind," she lied, planning to cry for days if he threw her over. "And obviously I've done something—"

  "No, you have no'," he said quickly, forcefully.

  "Then why did you pursue me so strongly last night, and now you can hardly look me in the eyes? Nothing has changed except that you got to know me better." She couldn't help it; her eyes began to water.

  He ran his palm over the back of his neck. "Damn it, lass, every bloody thing I've learned about you I've liked. Maybe I've recognized that you could do better than me."

  "What do you mean?"

  As though the words were pulled from him, he grated, "When I left, Quin thought you might be…in a compromised situation."

  "What do you mean by a 'compromised situation'?"

  "He suspected things with you were no' as he'd thought them." MacCarrick's voice broke lower when he said, "Quin intended…to come marry you if I dinna."

  Her lips parted. Was this what caused MacCarrick's hesitation? Did he think Quin was a better man than he was? Quinwas a good man, and she would've been proud to have him, but she'd never felt as drawn to Quin, whom she'd known all her life, as she did to this rough Highlander she barely knew.

  "He was the one you wanted, so you could—"

  "I don't want Quin," she interrupted in a quiet tone, meeting his gaze. "I want you."

  He looked bewildered—as if she'd just struck him—and had to cough into his fist before he could s
peak. "Did you no' hear me? You can marry the man you sought."

  "The one I sought before I metyou ." A cab finally rolled to a stop before them. "I've told you what I want, Scot. Now make a decision about me. But when you do, it must be final."

  He opened the door, then paused, clutching the handle as though in a death grip.

  She drew a breath before she said, "You can't leave, then come back for me in a month, and you can't throw me over in a few weeks—"

  With a frustrated sound, he grabbed her by the waist. Tossing her inside, he growled, "Then get your arse into the cab."

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Ethan stared at the ceiling of the train car, reeling from the magnitude of what he'd done.

  The chit seemed determined to stick to him like glue. Because sheliked him. He'd admitted to murder, and she'd given him that adoring expression again.

  Sometimes being with her reminded him of going hunting with Hugh. His brother was a master rifleman, so fast to aim and shoot that even Ethan, no slouch, found himself doing a double take, frowning. That's what he felt like with her. Always doing a double take. Always perplexed with her.

  Ach, if he wasn't careful, he could get used to those looks she gave him.

  And when she'd met him eye to eye and told him she'd chosen him over Quin? The excitement he'd felt from winning her was indescribable….

  "I have to warn you," she said, then, "Trains have a tendency to make me very"—she yawned—"sleepy."

  Within five minutes of their departure, her body slumped and her forehead hit his shoulder, but she jerked awake.

  She did this several times until he said, "Just fall asleep. I will no' let anything happen to you."

  She nodded. "Maybe I could just lie there…" She stared hungrily at his chest as if she was fantasizing sleeping against it.

  "I thought you dinna like sleeping with another."

  "Only in bed."

  "Why?" Before he'd thought better of it, he'd patted his chest, coaxing her to lie there. When she curled up against him, his arm decided to slide around her. "Why only in bed?"

  "When I broke my arm, I had to go to l'Hotel Dieu. A hospital for indigents. And they packed four girls into a cot." Her voice was getting softer. "Every night, these fevered girls would thrash about, hitting my arm again and again. If the floor hadn't been freezing and covered with filth, I would have slept there." When she fell silent, he jostled her a bit until she continued, "I had to wait there for days after I'd been cleared to leave."

  "Had your mother already died, then?"

  She sighed. "Corrine told you."

  "Aye. Doona blame her—I can be persuasive, as you know. Now, answer the question."

  "No, she hadn't."

  "Why were you stuck there?"

  "My mother just…forgot me for a little while. When she was getting us a new place to live."

  Ethan briefly closed his eyes. Yes, he'd hoped she'd had much in common with Sylvie. Instead, she had more in common with Ethan. They'd both been hurt by the woman.

  "Why didn't you tell me your mother died?"

  "Orphansounds so…pitiful. And I didn't want Claudia and Quin to know anything about how terrible it is—was—in La Marais. I didn't know if I could trust you not to tell your friends."

  "How did Sylvie die?"

  Madeleine drew back. "Did you know her?" she asked with a frown.

  Lying easily, he said, "Never met her."

  "You called her by her first name."

  "Quin told me your parents' names and Corrine called her that today." He put his whole hand on the side of her head and pressed her back to him.

  "Oh. Well, she died of cholera when I was fourteen."

  That disease was a grueling way to die, and in his job, he'd seen it firsthand more than once. The victim's body evacuated all liquids, then pain and spasms wracked the muscles, blood thickening in every vein. And all the while the victim was sentient—very aware of dying.

  He felt a ruthless satisfaction to know that was how Sylvie had met her end, but then his brows drew together. "You were no'…you were no'with her when she died?"

  "Yes. But she passed away very quickly. Within a day."

  Yetanother horror she'd witnessed. "You dinna get it from her?" Cholera was highly contagious if one didn't know how to prevent its spread.

  She tensed. "I'm stronger than I appear, Ethan."

  "Of course, lass." She was one of the strongest women he'd ever encountered—even if she looked like a defenseless waif. She was brave and resourceful as well.

  He could stare at her for hours.

  He'd taken her with him. And, God help them both, he was glad he'd done it.

  Maddy woke alone in a luxurious stateroom. A circle of bright sunlight beamed in through a port window, telling her it was late morning. She remembered passing out in the train last night and supposed the last few weeks of worry had caught up with her. Ethan must have carried her aboard and put her to bed.

  Rising to examine the room, she ran her fingers over the rosewood furnishings, wrought with ormolu and gilt, then over the rich counterpane.

  The bed and the bathtub were as large as the hotel's. In fact, everything in this room was big—as if the designer had been dared that he couldn't possibly have such large fixtures and furnishings on a ship. Apparently Ethan never did anything second-best.

  Eager to go find him and to explore the ship, she quickly washed then dressed in a cobalt blue walking gown of stiff fitted silk. She'd just finished unpacking the broad-brimmed hat with the matching cobalt ribbon when he returned.

  "Good. You're awake."

  "Good morning, Scot," Maddy said, giving him a bright smile.

  He frowned at her. "You look well rested."

  "I should be. I think I slept eighteen hours." She waved a hand around the room. "I could get used to this. You weren't jesting when you said the ship would be luxurious."

  He took a seat at the mounted desk and motioned her to sit on the bed. "Now that we're here, there are some things I want to speak to you about. Some rules."

  "Certainly." She sat with her hands in her lap.

  "First of all, there's to beno stealing . And we're to act as husband and wife, which means you will no' be flirting with any of the men as you did in the tavern," he said with a glower. "And doona bloody steal anything. You ken?"

  She blinked at him. "I'm getting the feeling that you don't want me to…steal?" Growing serious, she said, "I didn'tenjoy taking things that didn't belong to me. I only did it out of necessity. Take away the necessity, and I won't steal. It's as simple as that."

  "What about the flirting?"

  "Jealous, Scot?"

  "No' likely. If you blatantly trifle with other men, people will wonder about our marriage."

  "Are those the only rules? Should be simple enough. How long should I say we've been married?"

  "A week. This is our honeymoon."

  "Would you like me to fawn over you when we go about in public?"

  "No' at all. In fact, I will no' want you underfoot. There's no reason for us to be constantly together." At her surprised expression, he said, "Understand, Madeleine, I've been a bachelor for many a year and a loner besides. It will irritate me if you're always around."

  Though his words hurt her feelings, she nonchalantly tapped her temple. "Be overfoot."

  "There's more than one hundred and fifty other passengers aboard. I'm sure if you make an effort, you can befriend one of the other wives on board."

  "I'm not a wife."

  "They don't know that. So you should be able to entertain yourself during the days—all day."

  "I shall endeavor to make friends and stay busy—and out of your way."

  "But I'll expect you back in the cabin when the sun goes down."

  "Very well. You've made my instructions clear." She rose, kissed him on the cheek, then collected her reticule.

  "So you're going?"

  "Of course," she said, her tone sunny. "Have a
wonderful day, Ethan."

  The baffled look on his face before she walked out was priceless. Had he expected her to fight for the right to be near him? She couldn't force him to want to spend more time with her. That just had to come.

  Besides, Maddy well understood what it was like to be saddled with someone she'd rather not be around. Her own mother had had a cloying personality, and her neediness had always made Maddy crazed. Maddy would be deuced if she'd behave the same way.Distant, aloof. That's what she would be like.

  Out on deck, Maddy discovered that theBlue Riband was one of the finest ships she'd ever seen. It was a sleek steamer with full sail rigging—and no paddle wheels above the waterline. She'd have to ask Ethan about that. If she hadn't seen the two smokestacks, she would have sworn they were on a sailboat.

  Though they weren't to get under way until the high tide tonight, the ship already appeared full. Couples strolled a marked promenade; game tables were set up on board, with special holders for the playing cards so they wouldn't blow away. Nannies chased children across decks that gleamed in the bright sun.

  The activity helped distract her from her wounded feelings, and now that she had the luxury of a day at leisure, she would enjoy it. She would lie on a chaise and have someone fetch her tea while she reveled in the fact that her boots didn't hurt her.The life!

  The wind blew up, whipping the stiff fabric of her dress, and the crisp sound pleased her. After a quick scan of the decks, Maddy determined that her dress was finer than any she could see on the other women.

  A group of seated young wives took her measure—they reminded Maddy of the boulangerie women, but these were richer. Maddy subtly raised her chin, but only so she could incline her head to them when she passed, as if she were royalty.

  They all had jewelry—pearl earrings, chokers, and diamond brooches. Maddy's ears and neck felt bare. But it didn't matter, because she could brazen out the situation, fabricate reasons why she had none.

  L'audace fait les reines. Audacity makes queens.

  By the time the ship made port, she'd have convinced the "other" young wives that she yearned to wear all her many, many jewels, but she was a helpless slave to fashion—and this year Paris fashion dictated wearing no jewelry—except,naturellement , when dining at court.