“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 wanted him. 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? Quin was 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 speak. “Did you no’ hear me? You can marry the man you sought.”
“The one I sought before I met you.” 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.”
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 she liked 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?”
“Orphan sounds 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.”
Yet another 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 be no 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’t enjoy 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 the Blue 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.
Twenty-eight
“Madeleine, damn it,” Ethan yelled, “I said to wake up!”
Maddy shot up in bed, sucking in a ragged breath. Her cheeks were wet, and the sheets were twisted. She stared dumbly into the darkness, tears continuing to fall.
He lit a lantern, then hastened back to the bed with his brows drawn. He awkwardly patted her shoulder, then removed his hand. “Uh, there, now. You should…you need tae stop cryin’. Directly.” He looked as if he was bewildered by her tears. “Why did you have a nightmare? Is it because you’re away from your home?”
“No, I often have them,” she answered in a whisper. This was so mortifying. They’d had such a nice night once they’d met back at the cabin—dinner, then kissing, then touching. But now…
Maddy hadn’t wanted him to see her nightmares, not yet at least.
She remembered an issue of Godey’s Lady’s Book she’d read. An entire article had addressed how prospective grooms were attracted to radiant, carefree women. “Brides from happy families make happy families!” Godey’s had declared.
Ethan had just witnessed an example of how carefree she wasn’t.
“Do you want to tell me what you dreamed?” he asked.
Even if she wanted to, she didn’t think she was ready to tell him the details of her nightmares—or of her troubling fear that she might somehow turn out to be a bad mother, like her own. When she shook her head in answer, he appeared relieved. To his credit, he still offered, “Uh, maybe tomorrow, then?”
“Maybe,” she sniffled, then pointed at the lantern. “C-can we leave that lit?” When he frowned at her, she quickly added, “Unless they charge for oil?”
“We’ll make it like daylight in here, if you care to.”
“I’ve always wondered—why would you ever be in the dark if you can afford not to be?” Dashing the last of her tears away, she asked, “Do you ever have nightmares, Ethan?”
“I used to. But no longer.”
“Truly?” she asked, surprised he admitted to them. “How did you get rid of them?”
“I took care of what was bothering me.” At her questioning look, he said, “I doona let wrongs go unanswered. Someone had given me pain”—his expression grew so harsh it made her chilled—“and then I gave it back.”
Making an effort not to cheat, Maddy acted as dealer for a game of vingt-et-un among her new coterie of young matrons. Already she’d collected a group of them who thought her royally rich and her style fabulously avant-garde—so much so that they refrained from wearing jewelry because she did.
Ethan had seemed astonished that she’d made not merely one friend but a baker’s dozen of them. Her new acquaintanc
es helped keep her busy each day while she stayed away from him.
So he could read agricultural journals in the stuffy club room.
After a mere four days of being engaged to him, Maddy now found herself missing him. But ever since she’d had that nightmare, he’d been even more standoffish. Hour after hour, Maddy had played cards and dice and listened as the women talked of their husbands and children, so she could stay away until sundown.
Of all the coterie, Maddy liked Owena Dekindeeren best. She was a no-nonsense young Welshwoman, who’d married a Belgian businessman. Though only twenty, Owena already had two children.
Lost in thought, Maddy almost didn’t hear her say, “We can’t all be so lucky as Madeleine with her attentive husband.”
Maddy slowed her shuffling and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“At first I thought your husband was monitoring your gambling, like my Neville does with me,” Owena said. “But I vow, I think your husband simply likes to look at you.”
“Oh, yes,” Maddy began in a scoffing tone, “he’s so attentive he comes by once a day.”
Another woman said, “No, no. He only approaches you once a day, but we often see him lingering nearby.”
“His expression is so dark”—Owena grinned—“and…hungry.” The women tittered, fluttering their ostrich-feather fans, scandalized.
But why would Ethan come by and not speak to me? Maddy wondered, absently shuffling. Why has he been so distant—?
Realization hit her. Cards flew among the coterie. Ethan is already falling for me!
Maddy mumbled apologies as she hastily scooped cards from the table and from one woman’s bucket hat. Yes, falling in love with her. And that was precisely why he’d been so cold!
“Shall I deal, Madeleine?” Owena asked, amused. “You look distracted.”
“Oh, yes, please,” Maddy said, her thoughts racing….
Although Maddy’s own mother hadn’t loved her, Quin hadn’t fallen for her, and even Ethan seemed not to like her very much at times, Maddy boldly believed she was a lovable person.
Kresley Cole - [MacCarrick Brothers 03] Page 19
