Maddy had awakened without hunger in a warm, soft bed after a full night's rest uninterrupted by nightmares. And apparently, now that the critical needs of food, safety, and shelter had been met, her body had an entirely different need to contend with.
She was aroused, and his clean, masculine scent and the warmth emanating from his body were making it worse. She had to struggle not to run her fingers over his skin as she recalled the scenes from the night before— how her breasts had rubbed against his unyielding chest in the tub, or later when his hard body had wrapped around hers. Though she didn't want to sleep that way each night, she'd felt surprisingly safe with him. His erection had pressed against her bottom, but he'd kept his promise, never making an advance.
She'd never thought she would enjoy intercourse again, but now she was beginning to believe she could tolerate sex with him—and if he could do it as splendidly as he kissed her, she might even enjoy it once she grew accustomed to his size.
Of course, this didn't mean she planned to let him take her before their wedding. She had to hold firm on that—she knew too many women who'd been promised marriage only to return to La Marais big with child and utterly destitute.
Yet after they'd wed…what would a second attempt be like? She might not be looking forward to it, but she was definitely curious.
In fact, everything about him made her curious. For instance, why was he so skilled with a pistol? And who'd shot him so recently? She'd noted at least one other scar that looked like a bullet wound and would bet there were more on his back. What did he do that was so fraught with danger?
Who'd cut his face so terribly, leaving that bone-deep scar?
Already she had a good idea of how intensely it troubled him. But the truth was that even an aficionada like herself could see past it. Indeed, MacCarrick's face was still captivating to her, his features pleasing and even. He had a strong, straight nose, firm lips, and a square jaw shadowed with the night's growth of beard.
The good was so exceedingly good with this man, that it far outweighed the bad.
Maybe in the gentrified Grosvenor world he knew, people were flawless, but that was no longer Maddy's world. She was so used to seeing Crimean soldiers returned from war with parts of their regimental uniforms empty and pinned up that MacCarrick's scar was mild in comparison.
In the hierarchy of characteristics she needed in a potential mate, unmarred skin was not a contender compared to virility, strength, and wealth—all of which this Scot had in spades.
She mentally catalogued his good points: He was rich and seemed generous with his money. He was a sinfully skilled kisser and possessor of the most gorgeous, sculpted body she'd ever beheld. He was fierce—this Scot was no gentle giant—which suited Maddy fine.
The bad points: He was selfish, stubborn, rough, aggressive, and untrustworthy.
Would Ethan MacCarrick be difficult to manage? Absolutely. She had no doubt that she was going to have to draw on every man-managing skill she'd ever learned—and then call on every ounce of patience she could muster.
But she could do it to say good-bye to debts and her hardscrabble existence, andbonjour to a new life with a mysterious Scot who'd made her blood burn with both passion and fury.
Finally surrendering to the urge, she trailed the pads of her fingers down the underside of his raised arm, watching, enthralled, as the muscles lining the side of his torso briefly flexed. She gently brushed the skin around his wound, feeling unaccountably saddened that someone had sought to hurt him—or kill him. Why did the idea of him in pain bother her so much? At heart he was still a stranger.
She shook her head, deciding then that she wasn't going to lie to herself anymore. Something about him had attracted her from the very first—attracted her as no man had before. She'd been overwhelmingly drawn to him before she'd seen his face and scar—she still was after.And last night, his unpracticed, awkward smile as he'd cuffed her bottom had shown her a different side to this Scot, softening her anger toward him….
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 océane. 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
