If You Deceive mb-3

by Kresley Cole

  "Oh, my God, yes," she said, panting. Soon she was trembling, her hands gripping his neck tightly. Keeping her open, rubbing her clitoris over and over, he watched as she grew wetter, her flesh glistening. When she began to undulate her hips to his fingers, he thought he'd spill in his trousers.

  With her brows drawn, clearly aching for her climax, she met his eyes in the mirror. "Ethan," she whispered, saying his name for the first time.

  And it sounded like a benediction.

  In a flash, he understood that she hungered for this passion and pleasure, but that wasn't all she was longing for at that moment. There was yearning in her eyes, so raw and furious he was staggered by it. Then her lids slid shut, which was good, because he was shaken.

  "Let yourself go," he grated at her ear, barely recognizing his own strained voice. "Come for me, Madeleine."

  When she did with a strangled cry, he knew she was his.

  He leered at her reflection as her back arched, her breasts quivering. He felt a savage thrill as she rolled against his finger, tensing and shivering to his touch. "That's it," he murmured. "You like that."

  He slowed his strokes as the tension began to leave her body. Though he had a fierce need to come, he decided he'd further demonstrate to her that he was no horrible lover. He dipped his finger into her wetness, spreading it all around. Without warning, he sped up the rhythm once more.

  "What…?" she cried, lowering her arms, trying to wriggle away from him, but he looped an arm around her waist to hold her firm. "Oh, God. It's too much!"

  But he was merciless, rubbing her, kissing and licking her neck, until she'd stopped struggling. When he sucked her earlobe, she began meeting his fingers again. "Do you find me a horrible lover now?"

  "N-no—"

  "Tell me when you're goin' tae come again."

  "Now,now ," she said, the word breaking on a moan. As she climaxed, he slipped the forefinger of his free hand into her sheath, thrusting it fast. "Oh, yes, Ethan! Feels…so…good," she cried.

  His head fell back, and he groaned to the ceiling, feeling her sex squeezing his finger so tightly, in a rush of wet heat.

  Even after she'd finished, and though he was about to explode, he took his time, delving inside her as she sagged against him. He wanted to accustom her to the feeling, to trust him to touch her this way.

  Her response was so rewarding that part of him said to let this be only about her, to act as though he could give without taking. But when his cock ached like this he didn't feel very giving.

  Unfastening the front of his trousers, he pulled himself free with a hissed breath. Then taking her hips, he pressed his shaft against her arse, his thumbs covering those dimples above her bottom. He groaned as he thrust over her plump curves, settling between them to grind against her. His cock head was so slick he daubed wetness against her lower back. He could readily come like this, but he wanted her hands on him. He choked out the words, "I need you tae ease me." He slid his cock against her hip. "Touch it."

  She inhaled, trying to catch her breath, then nodded. Reaching down, she brushed the pad of her finger softly on the crown, making unhurried circles around the slit, but he grasped her wrist and put her palm to his shaft. "No teasing. No' yet." He met her eyes in the mirror. "I'm starving for this,aingeal ."

  "How should I…what do you want me to do?"

  "Stroke me as you did that night in the carriage."

  When she wrapped her soft palm at the base and drew her fist up, a wave of pleasure and elation swept through him. How in the hell had he lived without this for so long?

  "Tighter," he commanded, and she gripped him harder. "That's it." He thumbed her nipples to urge her on. "Good, Madeleine…," he grated. "It's so damned good."

  He squeezed her against him, covering her breasts with his hands, groans and coarse oaths breaking from his chest. "Faster." She did, pumping her fist on him as he bucked into it. "Clever girl," he rasped against her damp neck, "you're making me come."

  At the last second, he placed his hand over hers, pressing down. Yelling out, he ejaculated, pumping hot seed directly against her wicked garter, over and over.

  When he was finally spent, he shuddered and stayed her hand, astonished by the pleasure he'd just experienced, unable to remember its equal, but for the night he'd taken her.

  He still held her against him and wanted to stay like that as they caught their breath, yet he expected her to disentangle herself. Instead, her head fell back against him, and he had the leisure of watching her breasts rise and fall with her panting, her flesh perfectly flushed.

  She caught his gaze in the mirror. Between breaths she whispered, "If you give me a chance, I'll be a good wife to you, Scot. Just please, don't hurt me again."

  "I will no'," he said, holding her tighter, and for the briefest moment, he might have meant it.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Madeleine stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, touching his scar with her lips—not even seeming to mind.

  Having never experienced this kind of gentle affection from a woman, he had no idea how to proceed with it. She seemed delighted by what had happened, humming as she strolled to thesalle de bain to freshen up and change into one of the previously tailored dresses.

  When she returned, clad in her smart new clothes, with her shining hair braided atop her head, he found himself saying, "We'll go to the garret now. If you want to take something to your friends, we can put a couple of bottles of champagne on the tab."

  "Really? For Bea and Corrine?"

  "Aye." And that one gesture earned him an expression from her that could only be described asadoring— the way she'd regarded him that night in London. He pulled at his collar.

  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 seenwith him ? Or did she only want to show off her new finery? Just when he'd decided on the l
atter, 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. "Anorphan ."

  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 hewanted 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."

  Chapter 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 huntingfor 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. S
he 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 sendingfor 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 bloodythinkabout 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.