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? Quinwas 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 metyou .' 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.'
Chapter 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 sheliked 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?'
'Orphansounds 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.'
Yetanother 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.'
