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.'
She quirked an eyebrow. 'And you shouldn't be uncomfortable either. Even if they likely think your scar is'— she paused, then enunciated—'big.'
When he made comments about her poverty, she ridiculed his scar. He was coming to see it as a game they played. 'Have your fun, then. But now you'll have one less dress to call your own.'
'Then that's one less dress you can almost rip off me.'
He frowned down at her. 'Do you have an answer for everything?'
'Yes. But I specialize in questions,' she said, wandering off to survey scarves.
Ach, she baffled him. He was beginning to think she was a littletoo clever. If he wasn't careful, this game could come back to bite him on the arse.
When he'd awakened this morning, he'd sensed her leaning over him and had feigned sleep, until she'd begun to touch him so sensually and tenderly. He'd opened his eyes to find her staring down at him.
Damn if she hadn't been aroused, her pupils dilated, breaths shallow. He'd savored it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd known for a fact that a woman truly desired him.
In the past, the few women who'd seemed to be aroused by his scar had invariably liked more pain in their bed play than pleasure. Ethan was all for a hard, teeth-clattering tup—preferred it, in fact—but he had no interest in flaying a woman's skin.
Madeleine was beautiful, and ifshe'd deemed him attractive, then perhaps he wasn't as bad off as he'd thought. Perhaps he'd been overly critical of his face, his demeanor affecting his appeal with women.
He knew that soon he'd wear Madeleine down, and once she'd succumbed to him fully and he'd tired of her, he'd explore this with other women, voluptuous women with bouncing breasts who liked hard sex….
Even as he thought it, his eyes were drawn to Madeleine. He could admit she had surprised him—in fact, she continued to with her unusual behavior. He watched her caressing the silks and began to grow hard yet again. For a man who'd feared himself quit of this feeling, he was astonished at how easily she aroused him.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. Madeleine had seemed to be obsessed with touching, and now he discovered it was a clever ruse to cover her thefts. She was skilled, extraordinarily so, and if he hadn't been trained to descry minute details, he never would have noticed what she was doing.
He strode over to her. 'Put it back,' he commanded under his breath.
She gave him an innocent look, with guileless blue eyes. 'What are you talking a—'
He squeezed her elbow, silencing her, and she finally unthreaded the silk scarf from her blouse sleeve.
'Madeleine, the little thieveries must end.'
She cocked a brow. 'So sure they'relittle ?'
'Christ, I wonder if you're no' worse than I am.' He didn't mind people suffering if they wronged him first. Actually, he relished it. But he had no feud with this store owner, and she might not be able to easily suffer these losses.
'You steal, gamble, and speak the cant of the streets. If I'm to be our moral guide, we're both hellbound, lass.'
She gazed up at him, lips curling. 'But at least we'd be together.'
He knew she was teasing, but she still disarmed him, and his anger began evaporating….
When the modiste invited Madeleine to sit down with her and peruse fashion books, Ethan was provided coffee and a newspaper in English. He tried to read, but he grew distracted by Madeleine's voice, though she spoke softly, in a lilting French. Her questions and comments surprised him—as did her confidence when speaking with the older modiste.
'But what if you did this fabric and the ruche like this? With some bombazine?' she asked. 'And why must that one be symmetrical? If this is hunter green sateen and atilt, it will look vanguard but elegant at the same time.'
The woman stammered some answer.
'No, no, madam, this should be a stiff collar, upturned high on the neck and open here. And if the petticoat is visible, then we must make sure it's fabulous—I know, a white tulle over rich glacé silk!'
When they finished and Madeleine went off to choose reticules and gloves, the modiste approached Ethan. Her expression was overwhelmed, probably resembling the one he'd been sporting quite a bit of late.
'Your wife's taste is…' She trailed off, and Ethan thought she would sayunusual orinteresting .
'…amazing. She has untouchable instincts with fabrics and color.'
'Aye, naturally,' he said, as if he were well aware of this. 'Just make sure you leave room to let out her gowns….' He trailed off when Madeleine stared past him to the store's front window, her eyes going wide.
He swung his head around, expecting to see the henchmen outside. Instead, he caught sight of a well- dressed man with a more garishly clad woman strolling by and slowing, no doubt intending to enter the shop.
