Kresley Cole - [MacCarrick Brothers 03] (18 page)

He glowered at that, then seemed not to know how to proceed, running his hand over the back of his neck.

“You actually thought I’d welcome your proposal?” she sputtered in disbelief. The arrogance! “You looked at my ‘hovel’ and thought I’d weep with joy and consider you my savior. Should I fall to my knees?”

“I think no,’ else all that silver stowed in your skirt pocket will clink about like chimes.”

She quirked an eyebrow. She didn’t get detected often, and she’d been careful tonight. He was good. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

To his credit, he didn’t press that subject, instead returning to the proposal. “It would make sense that you might be pleased to receive
any
offer of marriage.”

“You told me you would
never
be moved to marry.” She made her tone woeful. “Oh, if only I’d listened! Then I wouldn’t have tried to trap you seconds later.”

“Things have changed. Recently I was injured, and it brought my life into focus. I have a title, and I’ve realized I need an heir, so I must marry.”

“What’s your title?”

“I’m an earl in Scotland. The Earl of Kavanagh.”

“Planning to make me a
countess
?” she breathed with wide eyes. “How novel! I’ve
never
heard that one in Montmartre.”

“It’s true.”

“And why would you choose me?”

“None of my options seemed enticing, and then I thought of you. After I asked around and learned much about you, I determined we would suit. You’re known to have a steady, practical personality, and to be intelligent.”

“You could make a much more advantageous match.”

“You underestimate your charms.”

“No, I don’t. I know I’m pretty and intelligent, but I have no connections—and no dowry. In case you haven’t gathered, I’m abysmally poor.”

“I have no need of connections and have more money than either of us could possibly spend in a lifetime. I can choose my bride based only on if I find her
pretty
and
intelligent
.”

She quirked an eyebrow at that. “Why do you think
I
would actually have
you
?”

“You told me at the masquerade that you wanted to marry a man with money. I have money. You told me you wanted an expensive ring, and I’ve given you one worth a small fortune. You’ll be a countess and have more wealth and homes at your disposal than you’ve dreamed of.”

Homes and wealth? Countess?
Was this odd Scot genuine? Hadn’t she just begged for one break? One pause in the endless series of heartaches?

And then this MacCarrick just happened to show up at her door, proposing?

No! Gifts don’t fall from heaven like this! Not for me. Something is off!

“All you have to do is leave Paris with me. I’ll wed you in Scotland.”

“Why not marry here in
la ville lumière
?” In a dry tone, she said, “You’re clearly such a romantic, and this
is
Paris…”

“Because I’m the laird of my clan, and I’m expected to marry at the MacCarrick seat with a grand wedding for all the clan to enjoy. And marrying in front of witnesses from my county in Scotland will help ensure my children inherit without challenge.” When she remained unconvinced, he quietly said, “Money, protection, a life of ease are all within your grasp. Marriage to me is that repulsive a proposition?” He absently dashed the back of his hand over his scar.

“Yes, and before you begin thinking it’s because of your face”—he dropped his hand, seeming surprised he’d been touching it—“I’ll ask you to hark back to your behavior that night. You ruined what could have been,
should
have been, wonderful. I thought I had a firm grasp of what cruelty was, but you educated me further.”

“It was no’ that bad—”

“Yes, I’ve heard some women enjoy overeager Highlanders pawing at them, nearly ripping their clothes off, then delivering excruciating pain. For some reason, I just couldn’t understand the appeal.” She shrugged. “I’ll bet it eats at you, knowing that I found you to be a horrible lover.”

The black look he gave her was rewarding. “Given the chance to do things over, I’d have done them differently.”

“Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“I doona believe in apologies. Instead, I’m offering you a future, which is more valuable.”

“That night, you kept going even though I was hurt.”

“I dinna know—”

“You mean to tell me that an experienced man of the world couldn’t tell when a woman beneath him is in pain and on the verge of sobbing?”

Did he stifle a wince? “You had a mask on. I could no’ see your tears. And I swear to you, I stopped as soon as I realized.”

“Right. And then you…you finished what you’d started, adding to the humiliation.”

“I dinna intend to humiliate you. That was…involuntary.”

She frowned. “Involuntary? What does…?” She trailed off, feeling herself flush at the notion of him overcome with lust. “Oh. Well, the fact remains that even when you realized, you almost didn’t stop.”

“But I did. And one day you’ll understand just how goddamned difficult that was.” He looked to the right of her and said absently, “It’s hard for you to imagine because you were feeling pain, but I was no’.” His brows drew together as if remembering the encounter right then—an idea that made her shiver. “I was feeling more pleasure than I had in years.”

“Then why
did
you stop?”

“I dinna want to hurt you.” He turned back to meet her eyes. “I suppose that means I’m no’ yet thoroughly beyond redemption.”

“Redemption? I hope you didn’t come here expecting
me
to redeem you, MacCarrick, because if so, you’ve chosen the wrong girl.”

“No, I came here expecting you to marry me.” Raking his heated gaze over her, he said, “And I think I got her right.”

Nineteen

E
than was confounded by how much she
wasn’t
jumping at this opportunity.

“So how rich are you? As rich as Quin?”

“No. Quite a deal more than Quin.”

Instead of being pleased by this, her face turned cold. “You’re rich, titled, and not too terribly old. You could have anyone you wanted. Yet you chose a dowryless girl you don’t know?”

Too terribly old?
“I’ve already explained this.”

“And I don’t accept your explanation. Something is wrong with you or your situation, and you’re hiding it. You chose me, a foreign girl, so I wouldn’t have heard about unsavory predilections or tales of gin-swilling or shaky finances—”

“I doona drink liquor. My finances are solid.” He wondered why he sounded so fierce about this, when he had no intention of marrying her. “And the only unsavory predilection I have is that I plan to use you well, until we’re both spent, every single night.”

Her face screwed up into an expression of distaste. “Would you really want me, knowing that the only reason I’d accept a man like you is because I’d rather forgo hunger pangs and torture by henchmen?”

“Does no’ matter why. Just that you do.”

“It doesn’t feel right to me. I know how aristocratic lords are—there’s
always
something wrong, always some secret.” Though he wouldn’t have thought it possible, he realized she was more cynical than he was.

In a deliberate tone, he asked, “Are the reasons why I have no’ made a match no’ obvious?”

“Because of your foot-long scar?” She rolled her eyes.

“Damn it, witch, it’s no’ that long,” he said between gritted teeth.

“Maybe it’s not if you measure end to end, but if you trace every turn, it is.”

How badly he’d wanted a woman to acknowledge the scar, to get the awkwardness out of the way. And here this chit was looking him in the eyes, facing him fully, discussing it—but not in any manner he’d ever imagined. “You’re daft.”

With a huff of irritation, she crossed to his spot on the bed. She lifted a knee to the edge, tilting her head as she studied his face. She smelled of strawberries and sweet woman, and his cock shot harder. He was struggling not to clutch her waist and roll her to the bed—

She…
touched
his scar.

Biting her lip, concentrating, she traced her finger along it.

A beautiful woman was touching his face—
analyzing
it. The mark was disgusting—why wasn’t she repelled?

When she apparently couldn’t get the length she’d claimed, she
tugged
on his face. He willed himself not to snatch her hand away, anxious to see what she would do next.
What will she say? What will she call me…?

At last, she simply seemed to grow bored with it. “Well, perhaps I was wrong,” she conceded. “But the scar
is
big—very big. How did you get it? Did it hurt?”

“Of course, it bloody hurt,” he snapped, reminded as ever that she was the daughter of the one who’d dealt him that blow.

She drew back from him, the intimacy lost. Then assuming a haughty expression, she clucked her tongue. “Running with scissors, Scot?”

“One day, I’ll tell you all about it,” he lied.

She huffed back to her spot on the floor and mouthed, “
Big
” to him before plucking up another strawberry.

“Well, thank you for dinner and the ring,” Maddy said half an hour later as she rose to leave. “Both proved agreeable.”

“Madeleine, the watch you’ve pocketed belonged to my father’s father. You canna have that one, but I’d be glad to get you another.”

She jutted her chin up, digging for it and tossing it on the bed.

“And you managed to get that candle holder you were eyeing into your pocket, too?”

Deuce it, how had he seen her?

“Commendable,
sionnach
.”

“What does that word mean?”

“It means ‘fox.’ That’s what you remind me of.”

“Do you know what you remind me of? A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Tonight you’ve been more civil, but it’s obvious to me that it’s a strain on you. It’s not your nature.”

“Aye, that might be true,” he said, surprising her with his honesty. “I’m no’ polite, nor am I one for wooing and compliments. I say what’s on my mind whether a lady’s in the room or no’, but—”

“But if I look past the tarnished surface,” she interrupted in a saccharine tone, clasping her hands to her chest, “there’s a good man beneath? Just waiting for the right woman to turn him around? Tell that to Blue-Eyed Bea. She believes it again and again. I do not.” She put her hand on the doorknob.

“No, I was no’ going to say I’m a good man. I canna make that claim. And I doona believe a man can change his nature. But I was going to point out that I’m likely the best you’re going to get. I will no’ ever strike you, you will never want for anything, and you will never have to back down to anyone again. There’s a reason you have no’ asked the Weylands for help. You’re prideful. Why no’ go back to England as their equal?”

“On the surface, this seems logical.” So why did she feel like she was about to pocket a scarf and a hidden gendarme was watching her every move? She suddenly narrowed her eyes, suspicion flaring. “You’ve never asked me about my proposal, the one I told you I had waiting in the wings.”

“It was obvious to me that you had no’ and would no’ accept him if you were still living in poverty, and the last thing I wanted to do was remind you of another candidate.”

“No, I was ready to accept him, but
he
refused
me
. After waiting for so long, he was suspicious of my virtue.”

MacCarrick’s brows drew together. “Do you think I could possibly have something to do with that? Of course, I wrote him of my conquest.” When she remained unconvinced, he said, “Which begs the question: Why did you keep him waiting?”

“I had a bad feeling.”

Instead of scoffing, he nodded and said, “Do you have a bad feeling now?”

“I don’t know.” She couldn’t tell. She was exhausted, bewildered, and probably drunk. She didn’t think she should believe him, but if she trusted her instincts…“I just need some time to think about all this.”
Am I doing something to leave myself vulnerable?
“It’s a big step.”

He ran his hand over his face. “Then at least stay here. What happens if you get caught by those henchmen? They’ll take you straight to their boss.”

“I
never
get caught.” That wasn’t true. She had been caught several times, but no one had ever made it to the police station with her in tow.

When she opened the door, he quickly rose, and his hand shot to her elbow. “Going out into the night again? That is out of the question.” He seemed alarmed at the idea of her escaping him. “Damn it, Madeleine, would it be so terrible to have a man take care of you? To protect you?”

Protect?
She swallowed, the image of the ladies in the boulangerie flashing in her mind. Had the dream ever been this close…?

“I’m no’ leaving Paris without you, lass.” Softening his tone, he said, “You’re going to be mine—I doona know what I have to do to effect that, but it must be so.”

Maddy knew men. They could feign love and affection easily, yet jealousy, when absent, was hard to conjure. She’d noted the look of rage on MacCarrick’s face when the man had asked if he was done with her. She’d seen how swiftly he’d pulled his gun.

He was possessive already.
So why am I so afraid of this?
She could establish parameters to protect herself, limit her vulnerabilities.

De mal en pire
. From bad to worse. Was she afraid to take this chance because she didn’t trust him—or because La Marais had already beaten her?

Never.
Fortune favors the bold.

And that’s when she knew she was going to go along with this. “I will consider your proposal.”

He exhaled and schooled his features, but she’d seen he was relieved—very much so.

“But I have some conditions….”

Twenty

“T
he hell we’re no’ having sex till we’re married!
”