If You Deceive - Cole Kresley - Страница 35
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After making an unhurried exploration of his chest, her finger meandered down the rigid length of his stomach. Reaching the trail of crisp hair below his navel, she lazily stroked it with her nails.
When he slid his knee up, and his shaft pulsed beneath the cover, she gasped and glanced up, finding his eyes on her. She'd never seen any so compelling—so fierce, the irises jet black with flecks of amber.
Though he was studying her face, she didn't bother trying to disguise the desire she was feeling. His brows drew together, as if he didn't know how to respond.
She grazed the backs of her fingers over his scar, and his expression changed, his demeanor growing surly. "Why do you sleep curled in a ball?" he asked, his voice even more rumbling in the morning. At her blank look, he said, "Sometime in the night, I got you to fall asleep against me, but then when I woke, you were curled up on the other side of the bed." His tone was strangely accusatory.
"I don't know. I guess it's warmer in that position. Paris can get so cold in the winter."
"It could no'be warmer than when you were against me."
"I…you're right. I just feel crowded with another in the bed." She barely stifled a shudder. She all too clearly remembered those horrible nights in the infirmary after the fire, sharing a bed with other indigent girls, who unremittingly bumped into her ruined arm all through the night. That pain was as fresh in her memory as it had been when she was eleven. "You don't feel claustrophobic?"
He gave her that look that she'd begun to think he reserved solely for her—a mix of irritation, scowl, and a threatening glower. "It's no' like you take up much room, then, is it?"
Patience, Maddy.Changing the subject, she asked, "So, are we leaving for Scotland today?"
"We're scheduled to leave tomorrow night, but we can push that back if we canna get a week's worth of clothing for you."
"You're really taking me shopping?"
"I said I would, did I no'?"
"Well, if you do everything you say you will, then that means I'm going to be married, and not hungry, and living with you in Scotland." Today she would start a new life with this mysterious man beside her—and for once, she was delighted with her luck. "How are we going to get there?"
"A train from here to Le Havre, then by sea."
"Ah,la porte oceane. How long will it take?"
"By steamer, it's no more than four days to the southwest coast of Scotland."
"A steamer! I've never been on one, except for the Channel tubs."
"TheBlue Riband will be lavish, Miss Van Rowen. You'll have much silver to steal." His tone might have been cutting, but she was too excited by their plans and couldn't hold back a grin. He frowned at her lips, then continued, "I've a lesser estate on the coast across the sea from Ireland. We'll spend a night or two there before continuing north by rail to my family's seat of Carrickliffe."
"What's Carrickliffe like? Do you think I'll like it there? Is your clan nice? Will they like me? When I'm not tired and hungry, I'm usually very likable."
"It's a fine estate in the Highlands, with a castle, and, aye, any bride would like it. My clan is verra serious, verra solemn. I doona think they would know what to do with you."
"In other words, they won't like me."
"Does no' matter, since I'm rarely there. And besides, they doona like me either."
She nodded without argument.
"What? You can easily see this?"
"Well, yes," she answered. "You're not very serious or solemn, so I expect that they don't know what to do with you either."
He looked at her as if she'd sprouted two heads. "Iam serious and solemn."
"No, you're not. At the masquerade, you made me laugh. You had a devilish sense of humor that I enjoyed."
"I think I would know myself," he said more gruffly.
"I won't argue with you, Scot. Though now I do have to wonder exactly why they don't like you."
"Let's have this discussion when you've been around me for a few days. It might become more apparent."
She quirked a brow, deciding not to pursue that subject—yet. "What about your family?" she asked instead. "Do you have a big family? I've always wanted a big one. I wish I had siblings. I know you have one brother…" She trailed off. "You said he married Jane—that will make her my sister-in-law, too!"
"Aye, it would. And I have another brother who's also recently married. My mother is still living, but I have no contact with her."
"Oh. Are you close to your brothers?"
"I'd do anything for them, but I doona believe we're close," he said, revealing the tiniest hint of regret in his voice. For a man who seemed to cloak his emotions at every opportunity, his tone was telling. "Enough questions. We've much to do to prepare for the trip."
She nodded. "Before we leave, I need to pack up some things—"
"You doona need to pack anything. I told you I'd buy you new. Besides, the spoils would no'be worth the effort."
Her lips thinned. If he was going to continue ridiculing her poverty, then she was glad she hadn't told him she could overlook his scar. She'd give up knowledge of that chink in his armor as soon as she deemed it unnecessary to possess.
"In any case, MacCarrick, I'd like to give some things to my friends and say good-bye to them."
"We'll see, if there's time."
It nettled her how dogmatic and domineering he was with her, but Maddy would pick her battles. If she was patient, with time she could manage him—she just needed to bite her tongue until she uncovered his weaknesses. Besides, she wouldn't fight him on this—not until she'd determined he absolutely wouldn't permit her to see her friends. "You know, since it appears that we're actually going through with this, I think you should tell me how you got your scar." When she touched it again, he looked as if he'd just stopped himself from flinching.
He hesitated before he said, "I was in a knife fight."
Her eyes widened. "Did you kill someone? Was it broken up? Did you win?"
"I dinna win at first"—he cast her a disquieting smile—"but I did in the end."
"Get my wife anything she could possibly need," Ethan told the modiste at one of the most exclusive dressmaker's in Paris. "Her trunks were lost, so we'll be starting anew. And we'll need garments to take with us today—a week's worth of dresses."
When he and Madeleine had first entered the shop, a few of the girls working inside had turned their noses up at Madeleine's scuffed boots and worn clothes. She'd donned an indifferent expression, but he could tell she was embarrassed, and for some reason, the idea of that made his hackles rise.How dare they?
Ethan stressed to the modiste, "I want you and your employees to understand thatnothing is too good, or too costly, for her. Her wardrobe—and their attitude—should reflect that."
The woman nodded enthusiastically, and a sharp clap of her hands sent shopgirls rushing to set up garments and fabrics in a back dressing room.
Madeleine grabbed his arm and tried to steer him aside. "No, MacCarrick," she urgently whispered, "An entire wardrobe? Not in a place like this—that will cost a fortune! There are bargain shops on Rue de la Paix."
He raised his eyebrows. "I thought you said we have a lot in common. In your situation, I would take me for all I'm worth."
"I'm not in this for the short cull. Your continued healthy finances are very important to me."
"So that you will no' harp on this, I'll tell you what I make a year—just on rents."
When he told her, she actually swayed as her jaw slackened. "You're not lying? Not jesting?" He shook his head. "Oh. In that case, I'll spend with impunity."
"Fine. Now, doona be uncomfortable with the girls for staring at your shabby clothes," he told her in a patronizing tone. "These women matter no' at all."
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