If You Deceive

Chapter Thirty-nine

During her walk down to the beach on a fine spring morning, Maddy was stalked by a black tom kitten.

Ethan had brought him from the village for her. She called him Petit Chat Noir.

After she rolled out her blanket and sat, she ruffled her fingers in the sand until he charged. But he soon grew less interested inla guerre and more inl'amitié. As Maddy petted his ears, she gazed out at the waves, musing over the last few months as Ethan's wife.

Ethan's transition from rough, secretive, aggressive Highlander to gentle, caring husband had been seamless and effortless.

In Maddy's imaginings. The reality had proved far different.

He was ridiculously overprotective. "You canna walk down to the beach by yourself," he'd decreed. "And absolutely no' into the village."

"Have you forgotten where I grew up?" she'd asked. "I daresay I can handle all that the treacherous seaside village can offer. What do you think I'll have to defend against? Scallops? Seaweed? Shells! Always the damned shells."

"Have your fun, young lass. But I will no' be moved from this. You must bring Sorcha."

He could be moody, sometimes staring off over the sea for what seemed like hours. She would give anything to know what he was thinking about. He was possessive, preferring to have her all to himself. "What do you mean, visitors?" he'd demanded just this morning. "We had some just two weeks ago. Do you no' like spendin' time withme ?"

And he could be intensely jealous…Once, when she and Ethan had spent a weekend in Ireland, an unwitting American tycoon had flirted with her on the ferry trip. She'd consoled herself by musing that the man's bruises would eventually fade. Plus, the Yank would probably never even glance at a Highlander's wife ever again, saving himself another beating.

She'd discovered that Ethan's superstitious nature ran deeper than she'd thought. He believed, for instance, that a clan seer had predicted Ethan and Maddy's unionfive hundred years ago ….

And if Maddy didn't know how much income Ethan made, she'd pronounce him a spendthrift. Packages were continually arriving. He'd bought her a horse, diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and more clothing than she could wear in a lifetime. There was nothing left in the village for him to purchase for her. When she'd casually mentioned that she wanted to restore the orangery, within a week new parts for the furnace and a crop of citrus trees had arrived.

She had to wonder if he was buying her these gifts to make up for how poor she'd been. He couldn't know that every gift reminded her of how much she'd lacked.

Maddy had learned from him that his youngest brother's wife was also rich and even had royal Spanish blood. Maddy had become acutely aware that Ethan's brothers had both married accomplished heiresses, while Ethan had gotten the plucky chit from the slum. Maddy dreaded meeting Ethan's family, and for some reason, she sensed he equally dreaded it.

She'd begun wanting Ethan to see Iveley Hall, her childhood home, so he would recognize that she'd been brought up with great wealth and that her childhood had been idyllic up to a point—he needn't try to give her everything and the moon.

He had an estate he wanted to check on over the summer. Iveley wasn't directly on the way, but it wasn't more than an hour away by rail. She'd decided to write the owners and inquire if they might let her and Ethan have a short tour. Just to see it once more.

Surely Ethan would agree to take her. Yet even as she thought it, she wondered. She'd noticed that for some reason, whenever she mentioned Iveley, he tensed. She didn't think he even realized it, but there continued to be a barely perceptible change in him whenever she spoke of her former home. In fact, the same occurred whenever she mentioned her parents as well.

He claimed that he'd never met her parents or been to Iveley, but sometimes she wondered if he…lied.

He'd called her mother by her first name on more than one occasion, startling Maddy each time. And once, when Maddy had confided her fear that she would be a bad mother like her own, he'd disagreed so vehemently, she'd been taken aback. "How can you feel so strongly?" she'd asked. "Are you certain you never met her?"

"Aye. It's just clear that she was cruel to you, and since you doona have a cruel bone in your body, you can be nothing like her," he'd answered so smoothly….

But if there were shadows in their marriage, there was a great deal of sunshine as well.

Ethan had told her he considered Corrine and Bea her kin, and he encouraged Maddy to send for them. He'd even offered to hire Corrine as a steward, since he'd seen her work ethic firsthand and still couldn't find anyone here that he trusted. And Bea's job? "A companion?" he'd suggested. "Or, at the rate you're accumulating stray animals from the countryside, maybe a pet caretaker."

Though Maddy had beseeched them to come to England, they were reluctant, citingde mal en pire . But she thought she was wearing them down with each letter describing Carillon. In the meantime, he'd suggested that she send an eyebrow-raising amount of money to them, delighting her.

And Ethan laughed more and more each day, regularly demonstrating a droll sense of humor. One morning when she'd been potting in the orangery, he'd strolled in. "What is this?" he'd demanded, his expression perfectly deadpan. "I doona understand the purpose of this exercise." She'd frowned, then glanced down at her kitten, who'd been wide-eyed, affixed by tooth and claw to Ethan's trouser leg. She'd laughed till tears had come. "It's like a burr I canna lose," he'd muttered, walking out with the kitten once more.

Also good…his lovemaking was breathtaking and wicked. Yet even his desire for her seemed tinged with the same urgency with which he gave her gifts.

Just this week when they'd gone riding, rain had begun to sprinkle down. He'd led her beneath an oak, beside a gurgling stream, and as the spring mist had lightly fallen, he'd pressed her against the tree, kissing her damp neck.

She'd gasped. "Here, Ethan?"

In answer, he'd slowly lifted her skirts, then ripped the slit of her pantalettes wide, making her tremble with anticipation. When he'd suckled her through her wet blouse, she'd been overwhelmed by sensation. She'd grown lost in the feel of his hot mouth against her nipples and his muscles flexing beneath her palms. The crisp, tantalizing scent of his body had mingled with that of lichen-covered rocks and fragrant heath.

He'd lifted her, his big hand pressing her head firmly to his chest. With his other arm looped around her bottom, he'd held her in place as he'd slid inside her. When she'd moaned, swiftly on the verge, his thrusts had turned hard and furious. As she'd climaxed, he'd pumped inside her, hissing, "Let this take…."

She knew he hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. The desperate need in his words and in his continued actions disquieted her….

It was times like those—when he behaved in inexplicable ways, when she could feel that secrets and barriers and even lies remained between them—that she began to have a growing sense of foreboding.

She told herself that her apprehension arose only because the last time she'd been this content had been directly before her life had been devastated. She'd been so unprepared for the world of La Marais. So afraid. So…useless.

Maddy had picked herself up, again and again, learning to survive. Reflecting on the past, she didn't know how she'd done it.

De mal en pire.She couldn't help it—she'd begun saving her pin money.

Forty

Ethan located Maddy in one of her favorite places—the orangery, with the black kitten lazing against the warm glass. That little beastie actually liked him, which only further proved Maddy's theory on Ethan and cats.

After leisurely kissing Maddy's neck in greeting, he said, "I've received a missive from my brother."

"Is anything wrong?"

"Doona know." The cryptic message was from Hugh, so it could be about either Network business or family concerns. "Just know it's important. He needs me in London immediately. How much time do you need to get ready?"

"How long would the trip be?"

"No' long. Three or four days, I suspect."

"Then maybe I could just stay here?" she asked. "I know you probably need to hurry."

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I'm just a little under the weather," she answered.

He grasped her chin, turning her face side to side. "No doubt from being in this chilly room." Though the glass was sun-warmed, the inside space was cool and damp in the mornings. Yet he couldn't seem to get the furnace to work. He'd wanted to hire a machinist, but Ethan's lass seemed to think he could do anything. So damn if he wasn't crawling under that sputtering boiler at every spare moment.

"Ethan, it's perfectly fine in here—"

"You doona actually expect me to leave you when you're sick?"

"I'm notsick ," she said. "You have been very demanding lately, keeping me up at all hours of the night. And if you stayed, I'd want you to continue your demanding." She grinned, but she did look tired. "Agnes and her children can come stay with me for a few days. It'll be fun. We'll eat candy and play charades and wreck your house like barbarians sacking a city."

"Ourhouse," Ethan corrected. "Best remember you own half of everything you're breaking."

Though he loathed the idea of being separated from her, he knew she wasn't hankering to meet his family. And he couldn't allow her to meet them yet anyway. Hugh might have revealed everything to Jane. Ethan doubted it, but he couldn't risk Maddy's hearing the truth from anyone but him. To ruin what they were enjoying because he couldn't leave her for three days…?

Besides, he needed to meet with Edward Weyland face-to-face—and officially retire.

"Aye, verra well," Ethan agreed. "But only if Agnes and the children stay with you. I'll either return for you or send someone to escort you down within four days."

As soon as Maddy saw Ethan off that morning—with lingering kisses that almost made him miss the train—she and Sorcha began a baking frenzy. Six children meant lots of scones.

Agnes and her brood weren't supposed to arrive before midafternoon, so when Maddy grew overheated, she went upstairs to rest.

Though Maddy already missed Ethan terribly, she was glad she hadn't gone this morning. First of all, the very idea of meeting Ethan's family nauseated her. Second of all, Maddy had questions for Agnes. The widow had six children.

If there was anyone who could help Maddy figure out if she was expecting, it'd be her.

In any case, Maddy was excited about the children coming over. She wanted to make forts for them out of curtains and pillows, forts like they'd never seen.

Sitting at her new escritoire, she collected her pile of recent mail. Yesterday, she'd been too busy to sort through the weekly bunch. She grinned to herself—Ethan had been insatiable.

Flipping through the envelopes, she found invitations, a letter from Corrine, and one from Owena Dekindeeren of theBlue Riband coterie. Maddy frowned when she came across a thick missive she didn't recognize. She opened the seal and read the return address. It was from Iveley! She quickly skimmed the lines.

Just two weeks ago, she'd written to inquire about visiting, explaining who she was and her connection to the property. The land agent had responded promptly. He prefaced his note by admitting to being newly hired. He was experiencing some confusion and asked to be pardoned for it, but…"You, Lady Kavanagh, are the owner of Iveley Hall."

Yet how…? Maddy's eyes widened. Ethan had bought Iveley for her? "That man!" she said in an exasperated tone, but she was smiling. When was he going to tell her about this?

She could scarcely believe she owned Iveley. And apparently Ethan had at last found a hardworking steward for one of their estates—included in the envelope was a detailed report of improvement after improvement to the property.

Trembling with excitement, she turned to the second page of the note, skimming the lines with growing incomprehension.Your mysterious inquiry so puzzled me…after considerable hours of diligent research…discovered your husband had gifted Iveley to you four months ago…after having owned the property for nearly ten years…assumed directly upon your father's forfeit of the same.

"This can't be," she whispered, her hand fluttering to her forehead.

How could Ethan not have told her he'd owned her childhood home? And for so long? He had to have made the connection.

Surely it couldn't have beenEthan who'd foreclosed on them. Maddy had known Iveley had been seized—how could she ever forget being denied entry into her own home?—but Ethan couldn't have been the one who'd forced them into the streets on the very day of her father's burial.

The idea was too incredible—she could hardly conceive it. She reread the letter, but the content didn't change, no matter how badly she willed it to.

There was no coincidence. Her husband had willfully deceived her about this. Maddy remembered those times when she'd talked about Iveley or her parents and Ethan had grown distant.Think, Maddy . Even as she resisted, a nebulous picture began to form from the facts she knew about Ethan.

He'd traveled to Paris for Maddy—though she could have sworn he hadn't even liked her. He'd offered for her, a girl from a slum, instead of someone worthy of his title. And then he'd steadfastly refused to marry her—until she'd threatened to leave. She recalled his unsettling anger toward her earlier and the frenzied way he bought her gifts now.

What if there were deeds in my past?he'd asked. Hehad been trying to make up for something, but not for what she'd thought.

He'd foreclosed on them viciously, leaving them destitute.

But why? He had to have some grudge. Why her family?

She recalled him asking,How did Sylviedie? Maddy's eyes narrowed. She'd known he'd met her mother! So why would he repeatedly lie about the connection?

Whatexactly was the connection?

Maddy began to have a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her mother had been ravishing—and faithless. Ethan had been a libertine who'd cuckolded a new husband every night. She remembered him admitting,"If they were married, then even better." The two of them had been near in age.

Had Ethan had an affair with her mother? Why else would he lie so persistently?

Maddy had always wanted the key to unlock that night when her life had fallen apart. The questions had driven her mad. Now she felt the answers were there, just within her grasp.

Had her father unexpectedly returned home and caught his much younger wife in bed…with Ethan?

Maddy put her hand to her mouth to stifle a shocked cry. At twenty-three and without that scar, Ethan would have been gorgeous. Her aging father, who'd been dearer to Maddy than all the world, would have been devastated to see the wife he adored in bed with a strapping young Highlander.

Granted, Maddy couldn't know for fact that Sylvie and Ethan had…that they'd…

She shook her head hard. That part could be merely the imaginings of a frantic woman. But Maddy knew without doubt that Ethan had lied to her repeatedly and had sought revenge against her family. She couldn't state with certainty exactly why he'd punished her parents, leaving her as a casualty, but no matter if they'd deserved it or not, Maddydefinitely hadn't.

It was one thing to be a victim of circumstance and quite another to have a man show up on your doorstep to destroy you. She hadn't deserved to be dragged into this tragedy again.

Considering all that he'd done and deceived her about, she had to wonder if anything was true. Recalling the hasty marriage license—which Ethan had somehow had time to acquireafter drunkenly plotting the seduction of two barmaids—and the very simple ceremony with the registrar, Maddy realized she might not even be truly married.

Not one of the ladies in the boulangerie after all…

Ethan had looked her in the eyes and vowed that if she could just see her way to giving him one more chance, he wouldn't hurt her again.

Lies.He'd broken that vow, among others.The studied deception.

She'd been used. She was stunned, feeling so deadened that she was surprised she perceived her heart beating, could actually hear it in the silence of the room.

Maddy remembered Ethan once telling her to leave La Marais behind, not to look back. What had his plan been at the time? And if her friends had come to live with them and depend on them? Onhim ? Maybe that was why he'd been so insistent about them coming.

What am I going to do?All she knew was that she wantedaway from him , to be far away by the time he returned. She rose, and through tears gazed out the window at the windswept sea.

Maddy had called this place a fairy tale, and it had proved just as fantastical. Here, all was illusion.Peacocks and palm trees; jewels and sunsets over a blue Irish sea? If it sounds too good to be true…

You're a fool.

She'd take the filth and danger of La Marais, hard and real before her, over this, over the lies of her husband, of their life. "Just one more chance," he'd said, even whileknowing her trust would be in vain. He'd known she would discover his deceit. "What happens if you find out something from my past that you canna abide and you leave me?"

She'dpleaded with him not to hurt her again.How many more times will I endure having my hopes crushed? How many more timescould she endure it?

No more. She truly was finished this time.

"I'll never let you go," he'd vowed, and she believed him. Somewhere along the way, he'd fallen in love with her—or as much as possible for a man like him, with the lies between them.

In fact, she sensed that what he felt for her bordered on obsession. If she left, he wouldn't rest until he found her.

But she was Maddyla Gamine —she could find her way out of anything. She had the jewelry he'd given her, and all the money she'd wisely begun hiding away.

She'd go back to La Marais. But only to collect her friends.

On their way to somewhere else.

Forty-one

Ethan heard the screams from his Grosvenor town house before he even set eyes on the property.

To his shock, he saw Court and Hugh outside—notrunning to the sound. Court looked as though he was about to murder someone.

Ethan swung down from his horse. "Why the hell haven't you gone up—" Another scream sounded, and Court bellowed in answering pain, punching his fists against the brick wall. Blood was already matted there from previous hits.

"Stop it, Court," Hugh snapped. "She'll no' like that I let you hurt yourself like this."

"How could they send me away?" Court asked, his voice hoarse, his eyes dazed.

"I wonder," Hugh said dryly.

Ethan finally found his voice. "What the hell is going on?"

"They've asked me to keep him downstairs for the present," Hugh said.

"Who?"

"Did you no' get our letters?"

"No letters, just a short telegram to Carillon—"

"I wasn't sure if you still owned that one," Hugh said. "I sent telegrams to the less likely of your haunts." He narrowed his eyes. "What were you doing there?"

"Spendin' the winter. Now answer me. What is going on here?"

"This is the birth of your niece or nephew," Hugh said proudly. "And the possible loss of your brother's sanity."

"Birth?"Ethan tripped back against his horse. That arse of a horse sidestepped, and he almost fell. "Now?"

Court bit out, "She sent me away. Why would they send me away?"

Hugh responded, "Again, I canna imagine." To Ethan, he said, "Annalía's been in labor for about ten hours now. You're just in time to help me hold Court and keep him out of the way."

"Annalía'sin labor ," Ethan said, stunned. He'd never been anywhere near a birth before.

Court swung his frenzied gaze on Ethan. "Doona even start with me, Ethan. That baby is mine. Iknow her and Ifeel this. Any comment to the contrary, and I'll kill you."

Ethan put his palms up. "I'm no' making any comment about anything."

Court looked confused. "You're no' going to berate me or throw that bloody book at me?"

"No, I just…I wish you well."

Now Hugh frowned, too. "Fiona's here," Hugh said to Ethan. "She wants to talk to you."

"She's here? In my house?"

"Aye, she's—"

A scream louder than the rest sounded, and the blood left Court's face. He barreled toward the front door, but Hugh collared him and hauled him back, cursing and swinging. "A hand here, Ethan?"

"Oh, aye. Calm yourself, Court," Ethan said, helping to drag him back outside. "Women do this all the time."

Court grated, "If I hear that bullshite another bloody time…"

"This is killing him," Hugh explained. "He never wanted Annalía to have a baby."

"Why no'?" Ethan asked, baffled. That's what men always wanted. Wasn't it? He'd tried to get one on Maddy with a feverish intensity.

"He dinna want to risk her. And he dinna want to share her. If he'd known he could get her with child, he'd have tried no' to."

"They made me leave," Court said again, his tone miserable.

"How about helping me distract him?" Hugh muttered.

"How?" At Hugh's shrug, Ethan said, "Do you have, uh, a name prepared, then?"

Absently, eyes still on the door, Court said as if reciting, "If it's a boy, we have to name him Aleix, after Anna's brother, Aleixandre. Because I put him in jail and stole his house and all that. If it's a lass, we're naming her after Fiona."

Naming his daughter after their mother.Has everyone lost their bloody minds?

"Why have the screams stopped?" Court demanded, struggling to wrench free of them.

"I'll go check," Hugh said. "Keep him down here." He crossed to the stairs. A few moments later, he called down, "They're ready for Court."

Court stormed past Ethan and bounded up the stairs. Ethan hurried to follow. Fiona was there at the entrance to Court's rooms. "You're lucky she's ready this time, Courtland. You have a son. A beautiful boy." She glanced past Court. "Hello, Ethan. Glad the letters got to you in time."

He scowled, uncomfortable with this situation on so many levels. "I dinna get any bloody letters."

"Language, Ethan!" Fiona snapped.

"I have no' spoken to you in a dozen years," Ethan began, tone seething, "and you think you can scold me like that in my own home?"

"Aye," she said easily. "Because I'm still your mother."

Court stormed in and went straight for the bed. When Hugh entered to stand near Jane, Ethan entered as well, struggling to remain outwardly calm.Jane was here?

"Jane," Ethan said with a cool nod.

"Ethan," she replied, then added, "excellent work there with Grey. You really slowed him down for me to kill him."

Ethan raised his brows at her nerve.She's friends with Maddy , he told himself, biting back a scathing retort.

"Sìne," Hugh said warningly, using the Gaelic form of Jane. In turn, she slipped her hand in his and cast him a sunny smile; grave, stony Hugh was obviously helpless not to be charmed by it.

Court dropped to his knees beside the bed, taking Annalía's hand. "Mo chridhe, vow tae me that you'll never want another. We canna do this, no' ever again."

She gave him a drowsy smile. "I know this was hard on you. Oh, Courtland, what has happened to your hands? You poor thing…"

If Court could get a babe on Annalía, why had Ethan failed with Maddy? A quick flare of panic—what if Ethanhad succeeded? Maddy was smaller than Annalía, who looked like she'd barely gotten through this.

Fiona said, "Courtland, do you no' want to see your son?"

Court scowled up at her, having no interest in the boy. Instead, he put his face against Annalía's neck. Poor bastard couldn't seem to get close enough to her. "Can I pick her up?" Court asked.

Jane said firmly, "No, Court. Not yet. She needs to rest."

After another minute of sneaking her closer to him, Court turned back to them. "I'll be gentle with her."

"No, Court!" Fiona and Jane said at the same time.

Fiona added, "But you can pick up Aleix."

Ethan watched in amazement. Court hadn't even glanced at the babe.

"Since he is no' interested for now"—Fiona brought the infant to Hugh and Ethan—"perhaps you'd like to meet your nephew."

Hugh muttered, "Never touched a baby."

"Never?" Jane asked with a light laugh. Ethan said nothing, though he hadn't either.

Ethan was beyond cynical, yet he took one look at that boy and knew he was a MacCarrick. Felt it down to his bones.

The curse was proven utterly wrong—but even with that shadow dissipating from his life, Ethan still had another. The secret that weighed on him constantly….

"When I sleep," Annalía said then, smiling sleepily up at Court, "you must look out for Aleix for me." When he finally nodded, she dozed off.

Anticipating his panic, Fiona said, "Court, she's been awake and in labor for hours. Let her have some peace and quiet." He began to protest, but she spoke over him. "You want what is best for her. Sleep is what she needs. She's been more worried about you downstairs than for herself. Now, take your brothers and your bairn outside for a bit." When Fiona tried to hand over Aleix, showing Court the correct way to hold a babe, he went wild-eyed with panic, but eventually took his son with an audible swallow. "There, that's perfect," Fiona said. "Now, keep your hand behind his head…."

Five minutes later, when the three brothers were outside the closed door, Hugh scratched his head. "I might be mistaken, but I think they just shooed us out, leavingus alone with a baby."

Ethan nodded, about to rail at the wrongness of this, but he saw Court frowning down at his son. "He's a braw lad, Court," Ethan said. "You should be proud."

"It will be no time at all before you're teaching your boy to ride and fish," Hugh added.

The babe was already flailing his tiny fists—definitely a MacCarrick.

"My boy," Court said. "Ach, that sounds odd."

Hugh chuckled. "About as odd as I felt saying 'my wife.'" To Ethan, he said, "When are you going to do something life-changing?"

"Maybe sooner than you think," he answered.

Hugh raised an eyebrow. Court had no reaction, having become completely fascinated with his son.

When the bairn made a movement that approximated grasping Court's finger, Court jerked his head up, his expression astonished. "Did you no' see that?" Turning to amble around the room, Court murmured to himself, "My lad's bloody brilliant."

"I'm told this gets worse as the child ages," Hugh said dryly.

"Indeed."

"So, tell me what's happened in the last few months," Hugh said. "Jane and Claudia both wrote to Madeleine Van Rowen at an address in Paris, but the letters were returned. I thought you might have had something to do with that." Hugh seemed to be bracing himself for Ethan's answer.

"Aye, I did. And she's no longer a Van Rowen."

Grinning widely, Hugh slapped him on the back. "Ach, you doona know how uneasy I've been about this. But now…I can only say that I'm proud of you, brother."

Ethan raised his eyebrows. Hugh had never said anything of the sort before. And the approval wasn'tun pleasant.

"She still accepted you after you explained everything?"

"I dinna quite"—Ethan ran his hand over the back of his neck—"tell her…everything. She does no' need to know it," he added defensively.

Hugh's face fell, and he cast him a pitying expression. "Ethan, you best hope you married yourself a forgiving woman."

Forty-two

Sharp pops of gunfire, screams, and the sound of breaking glass.

Maddy sighed.Ah, home sweet home….

Perhaps running back to La Marais had been abit precipitous. After half a year away, she simply hadn't recalled it being this bad.

When she'd arrived earlier this morning, she, Corrine, and Bea had adjourned to Maddy's balcony for tea once more. That, at least, was welcome—she'd missed the companionship.

After Maddy explained everything that had happened with Ethan, Corrine promptly demanded, "Well, what did he say when you confronted him?"

"I…I was so upset," Maddy answered, flushing under their scrutiny. "And I didn't need to hear his excuses. What I do know as fact is damning enough—"

Corrine looked disappointed in her. "So you didn't even wait to learn his side of the story?"

Maddy stared at her tea cup and mumbled, "No. But he lies all the time anyway. I can't trust a single word out of his mouth."

"I've seen it before," Corrine said sadly. "Sometimes, it's as if peoplewant to get back to La Marais."

Bea nodded sagely. "C'est vrai."

"I didnot want to come back here!" Since returning, Maddy found La Marais harder and filthier than she'd ever remembered. "But I'm tired of being toyed with and deceived. And didn't I just tell you that Ethan might have slept with my own mother?" She felt a wave of nausea at the idea. "I came back for you two. So we could start fresh somewhere else. Maybe open that shop like we always talked about. I have enough money now for all three of us."

"De mal en pire, Maddy," Corrine said with a shrug. "My situation here isn't that bad."

"Bea, what about you?" Maddy asked. "Don't you want to be a dress model?"

"Oh, Maddée, can we talk about this later?" Bea said, rubbing her calves with a wince. "My legs and back are aching."

"We can live somewhere without stairs," Maddy said, striving for a cheerful demeanor.

Bea gave her a smile, but she appeared exhausted. "I think I just want to nap for a few hours. Then we'll talk."

"Of course, Bea. Get some sleep," Maddy said, hugging her.

Before she left, Bea peeked back out the window. "I know it's selfish, but no matter what, I am happy to see you, Maddée," she said, then turned toward her apartment.

But Corrine wasn't as pleased to see Maddy back. "I know you've learned the hard way that there are times to stay and fight, and there are times to run. And the difference can be a very fine line." She sighed. "But this time, I think you should have stood your ground with the Scot."

Maddy flushed uncomfortably, deciding this would probably not be the best time to reveal that she was likely carrying the Scot's babe….

The next morning, Maddy rose from her cold bed, struggling to muster the energy to rise and dress.

During the last few months with Ethan, she'd thought she had gotten past the tragedies in her life, believing she'd been adapting well. But discovering what he'd done—and knowing who was specifically to blame—made her reevaluate everything. Reviewing the litany of disappointment and heartbreak in one sitting made her wonder how she'd survived.

How many times could she pick herself up and dust off her skirts?

She'd just finished pinning up her hair when a nearby church's bells began to toll. She frowned and climbed out onto her balcony. Chat Noir deigned to give her a visit, and she picked him up, hugging him close. She already missed her kitten at Carillon.

Suddenly, the cat hissed. "What is it,chaton ?" With another hiss, he scrambled to get down. "Yes, yes, a minute—"

Scratching down her arms, drawing blood, he leapt away just as tolling began to sound in succession, building a steady crescendo all over the city.

When even the great bells of Notre Dame rang out, Maddy swallowed. There was no Mass right now. She remembered the last time they'd done this, and alarm filled her. She scrambled back inside, then rushed from her apartment. She banged on Corrine's door, then Bea's. No answer came from either.

People on the street would know where they were…what was happening…. Battling panic, Maddy dashed down the stairs, her breathing loud in the tight stairway.

Down four flights, then five—

The toe of her boot stabbed into something thick. With a cry, she pitched forward, flailing her arms, collapsing onto something solid but soft—something moist.

When her confusion cleared, she realized she'd landed on a body, sprawled dead in the darkness.

A single circular break in the bedroom mirror.

Ethan had known she had left him as soon as he'd seen it, even before he'd been able to question Sorcha. Somehow Maddy had found out the truth, and she'd thrown her ring at the mirror. Yet ever-practical Maddy hadn't left it behind.

The fact that she'd collected it—and every piece of jewelry—disheartened him more than anything. It meant she was preparing to stay away.

All Sorcha had been able to tell him was that Maddy had received some letter and she'd been pale as snow. She'd packed and left in a daze, absently asking Sorcha to take care of her cat until she could send for him.

Remembering Maddy's plan to visit Claudia when he'd refused to marry her, Ethan raced for London like hell was at his heels. Reaching Quin's home at last, Ethan stormed into his study. "Where's Maddy?"

Quin's jaw slackened. "My God, what's happened to you? You look like hell."

"Where is she?" Ethan snapped.

"Just like I predicted," Quin said smugly. "Not knowing up from down anymore. And why should I tell you where she is?"

"Tell me this bloody second." Ethan ran a hand over his face. "She's my wife, and she's…left me."

"Maddy marriedyou ? But she just wrote Claudia and said she was going to Iveley for the rest of the spring. That she owned it now, or something fantastic. Why would she leave you if she actually married you?"

Iveley?Maddy was throwing him a red herring, and he knew why.

She's about to disappear…. She'd been gone three days—long enough to sell off everything and book passage anywhere in the world.

"She's no' at Iveley," Ethan said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She's gone back to Paris."

"You had better hope not," Quin said, shooting to his feet.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Why no'?"

"We've just been getting word that there's…sickness there."

At Quin's expression, dread settled heavily in the pit of Ethan's stomach. "What kind?"

"MacCarrick, it's…cholera."

Forty-three

"Just calm yourself," Quin said. "The early wires say that they've contained it in some of the lower parishes. It might not even touch Madeleine in St. Roch. But I still advise you to hurry, because the city's becoming unstable and there have already been rumors of impending martial law. You remember what happened in the last outbreak?"

Ethan swallowed. Sixteen hundred people had died in a cholera-related riot, shot down by soldiers in a matter of hours. Dead, not even from the disease. No, twenty thousand had fallen from that.

"She's no' in St. Roch," Ethan said, striding out to his horse. "She's likely in La Marais."

Quin was right behind him. "What in the hell is she doing there?"

"Does no' matter—"

"Damn it, Ethan…that's the area hardest hit."

Ethan felt like his heart had stopped. "What did you say?"

"There's already been talk of a quarantine for La Marais. I don't understand why she might be in a slum like that, but if she is, you have to get her out…." Quin shook his head hard. "The Network would never officially recommend that you smuggle a subject out of a military quarantine, but you know protocols. You know how to protect others. You could do this safely."

Ethan had been in cholera-ravaged areas many times before. The latest medical texts avowed:Cleanliness, sobriety, and judicious ventilation defy the pestilence . In the field, Ethan had learned:Boil anything that goes in, burn everything that comes out, and splash whisky over anything suspicious .

"So unofficially," Quin continued quietly, "I'll help you with transport. And you'll get down there and extract her from wherever she might be—regardless of the situation. Do you understand me? Get in and get her out. And don't get caught breaking quarantine." He met Ethan's eyes. "Or you'll both be shot on sight."

Morning crept pale and listless over La Marais.

Yesterday, the streets had been choked with those strong enough to flee. Now the exodus was sparse and slow, as if already defeated.

Maddy sat alone on her building's front steps, with her knees to her chest and her chin resting on them. Her forehead beaded perspiration even in the chill spring air and her body shook. Those damned bells tolled nonstop; regimental drums beat in the distance, reminding them all of the oppressive threat of quarantine.

The stoop was empty of the drunks, most of whom had contracted the disease and swiftly passed on. Two nights ago, one had crawled into the building for help, then died in the stairwell.

The one Maddy had fallen over. She wiped her brow. Now she was infected as well.

Ethan had called her a fox once, but she could find no means to escape this trap. It was too late for her anyway. And too late for Bea. Maddy's tears began anew.

In front of her, not even a hundred yards away, a young man she'd known from the parish market fell to his knees. He gave a strangled scream and clawed at the ground as his body emptied itself of white fluids in a sickening rush. Anyone near him ran shrieking.

The impulse to help him arose in Maddy, but she couldn't aid everyone she knew—all around her the residents were falling as cholera burned through La Marais like a wildfire. At that moment, she heard the unmistakable sound of retching just behind her garret as yet another succumbed.

Across the narrow street, a teary Berthé emerged from her building and sank down on her own stoop. Maddy could tell she had the sickness as well.

When Maddy had arrived back in La Marais this time, she'd been prepared for the sisters to ridicule her for returning. Now their feud seemed so inconsequential.

They met eyes, and Berthé said, "How's Bea?"

"D-died this morning," Maddy choked out, shaking harder.

Berthé nodded gravely. "I am sorry for that,la gamine . But Corrine is still well?"

"Yes," she said. "She's resting." Corrine had finally cried herself to sleep after they'd discovered Bea dead in her bed this morning. Maddy shuddered at the memory. "And Odette?" Maddy had heard that Odette was one of the first stricken—and that Berthé had refused to leave her sister behind to save herself.

"Odette will not last the night."

Maddy said, "I'm sorry, too."

Berthé swiped at her tears. A long silence passed between them, then she said, "This was not how it was supposed to end for us,non ?"

Maddy shook her head, giving her a sad smile through streaming tears. Maddy thought it remarkable how one's wishes and dreams could change so suddenly with the circumstances. Last week, she'd wished she was indeed pregnant and that Ethan would react well to the news.

Now, Maddy wished she could live through cholera just one more time. If not that, then she wished Ethan wouldn't blame himself for her death. No matter what he'd done, he didn't deserve this kind of guilt.

If nothing else, Maddy wished that she wouldn't be burned on the mass pyre….

"At least you once got to see something outside of this slum," Berthé said. "Is Britain as beautiful as they say?"

"It is." Maddy's voice broke as she imagined Carillon. "It truly is."

The murky streets of La Marais were completely deserted when Ethan reached the area late in the night. The only sounds were the constant tolling of church bells, the low drone of nearing drums, and sporadic gunfire. Building doors had been left wide open, belongings dumped on the street.

The people here had fled for their lives. The idea of Maddy alone in all this maddened Ethan.

Even with Quin's connections, Ethan had been forced to wait for a ferry. Rumors were flying out of Paris, and most captains refused to cross the twenty-mile channel to France.

Each hour that Ethan had had to wait had been excruciating. Feeling so powerless, he'd paced, trying not to dwell on cholera's short incubation period—four hours to five days. He'd seen people contract it and die within hours, the speed of deterioration astonishing.

Maddy had been here for at least two days, possibly three….

Then once he'd made France, many of the trains into Paris had been halted. By the time he at last reached her building, Ethan was wracked with fear for her. He sprinted through the open doorway and climbed blindly to the sixth floor, breaking down Maddy's locked door.

He found her room exactly as it had been when they'd left it—except Maddy's bright bed had been stripped completely, the mattress gone.

His mouth went dry.

Bea's door was wide open. When he saw that her bed was stripped as well, sudden sweat beaded all over him. The disease had been here.

He kicked down Corrine's door—her room looked untouched.

Stomping down the stairs, he sprinted into the empty street, having no idea where to find Maddy. Turning in circles, he yelled her name again and again, his voice echoing—

"Are you searching forla gamine ?" a woman called weakly.

He whirled around as a figure limped toward him from a building across the street. It was the girl from the tavern—the one who'd tripped Maddy. Berthé, he thought her name was.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

"Madeleine fell sick," Berthé said, clutching her sides. Her face was pale as chalk, but for the characteristic dark rings fanning out around her eyes. "She tripped on a dead man in the stairwell. After that, she never had a chance. They took her yesterday when they came for Bea's body. Took her, even with Corrine fighting them."

Ethan's heartbeat thundered, booming in his ears. He couldn't even allow himself to think of what she might be saying. No. This just wasn't possible. "Who took her? Where?" When she bent over and spit up white fluid, he bellowed, "Goddamn it, Berthé! Tell me."

She jerked upright. "The hospital, l'Hotel Dieu. Four blocks down, then north. But she'sfallen . She'll be on the pyre by now—"

He'd already begun running, pumping his arms, hearing nothing but his breaths.

The hospital entrance was guarded, though only by two soldiers—but then, no one was expected to want in, and no one was expected to be able to exit. Ethan barely slowed to meet the guards head-on. He lunged in between them, swinging punches wildly, knocking them both out.

The inside of the hospital was a den of chaos, with useless smoke and incense oozing thickly throughout. The space teemed with patients; hysterical screams shrilled; huddled figures wept everywhere he turned.

He found a harried nun behind a desk that was filled with scattered papers and bags of tagged personal belongings. "I'm lookin' for my wife," Ethan quickly said. "Madeleine MacCarrick."

"How did you get in?" she asked, eyeing his unshaven, scarred face with suspicion. She had marked circles around her eyes and sweat beading her brow and above her upper lip.Already infected. He swung his gaze around—most of the nuns were.

"Special diplomatic dispensation," he somehow thought to say. He would have to get Maddy out of France tonight—or they could be pursued after he'd assaulted the guards and then stolen her from here.

The nun frowned at his answer, but she did drag a weighty, leather-bound ledger across her desk. After scanning some pages, she said, "There's no one here by that name."

"Maddy, then," Ethan snapped, but she still shook her head. "Last name of Van Rowen."

The nun scanned her ledger once more, then gazed up, her face pale. Ethan began to shake.

"Tell me where she is," Ethan demanded, his tone low. When she hesitated, he just stopped himself from reaching across the desk and throttling her.

"I'm sorry,monsieur . You're too late."

Forty-four

Ethan swallowed, unable to speak. Finally, he choked out, "She is no'…there's been a mistake…."

Over the roaring in his ears, he dimly perceived her saying, "She was given last rites at sunrise and not expected to make it past the morning."

Ethan must have appeared as crazed as he felt, because the woman cowered. "Then she's not…?" Ethan couldn't say the word.

"She's in thedernière chambre ." Her gaze flickered in the direction of a darkened back ward. "But,monsieur , once they go in—"

Ethan was already loping for the room. Inside, he swung his head back and forth. So many goddamned beds in this squalid, chill room. Children screamed in terror over the deaths of their parents, showing signs of illness themselves. The idea of his Maddy in here alone…

No, he couldn't think like that….Need to focus…stay clear, think .

He began bellowing her name, stopping at beds and drawing sheets back from covered bodies, greeted by one macabre expression after another—sunken faces, glaring dark circles like bruises radiating out from the glazed eyes.

Ethan spied a small figure under a sheet in a corner cot—curled into a tight ball.Maddy? They wouldn't cover her face unless…So help him God, she couldn't have died, alone here, in that goddamned position.

But she could have; how many blows could she defend against?

As he ran, she grew indistinct until he swiped his sleeve over his face. He kept wiping his eyes, and they kept blurring. At the bed, he swallowed, then drew back the sheet.

He fell to his knees."Ah, God, Maddy." Her lips and face were white but for the shadows around her closed eyes.

She lay motionless.She can't be…

He buried his face against her neck.She's warm. He felt her wrist—and didn't breathe until he found her pulse."Aingeal , wake up." He pulled her to his chest, but her body was limp.

Blood was stark on the sheet and the back of her gown.

Maddy had been oddly sentient since she'd fallen sick. She'd been aware of everything that had happened to her, never finding oblivion in the fever that had wracked her for hour after hour.

She knew Bea had died, and the grief was overwhelming. Again and again, Maddy saw her friend's once beautiful visage frozen in a grimace of pain.

She knew Corrine had fought to keep the soldiers from taking Maddy when she'd grown ill. Recalling Corrine's screams and fierce struggles, Maddy feared Corrine had been injured or arrested.

And Maddy knew that no matter what had happened, she missed Ethan desperately.

As if her thoughts conjured him, she dreamed he was here for her now. After being lucid for so long, Maddy wondered that she now imagined he knelt beside her. In dreams, she felt him rub his unshaven face against her neck, felt startling wetness from his eyes. The backs of his fingers glanced over her forehead.

He felt so real, she squinted open her eyes, but even the dim light hurt. She was hallucinating anyway, because surely Ethan could not be in this dank cholera ward. "Dream?" she whispered.

"No, Maddy"—his voice broke—"I'm here with you."

Oh, God, itwas Ethan, though he looked altered. His face was haggard, his eyes burning with some emotion she'd never seen in him before.

He couldn't truly have followed her intothis place? Especially when she was already dying? He would have to know better. She gasped in air. "You have…to leave—"

"No' without you. I'm takin' you from here tonight."

"Go…please. They'llshoot you. You can't…come here again."

"Understand me," he said in a low, seething tone, "I'm still your husband, and if I can die to save you from this, then that's my goddamned right!"

Definitely not a dream…Her rough-around-the-

edges Scot was behaving like a hero and still cursing like a sailor. "But, Ethan, I'm dy—"

"You will no' die!" He reached for her, clutching her nape. "You hold on!"

She whispered, "I think…it's too late."

He grasped her chin, forcing her to face him. He was pale and staring at her with a crazed expression. "It's no'! Damn you, Maddy MacCarrick, we're goin' tae be together. Believe me." His eyes were wet, his lashes spiking. "Lass, I could no' love you this much for nothing."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he brushed it away. She felt the smallest tinge of hope.

"Hold on, for me." Two arms slipped beneath her, gingerly lifting. But where did Ethan think he could take her? "Just stay with me, Maddy girl." She felt warmth enveloped in his scent as he wrapped his coat around her. In the cocoon of his arms, the constant screams finally dimmed, the cries dulled.

As Ethan carried her, hastening his long strides, Maddy heard one of the nuns cry, "You cannot take a contagious patient past the perimeter!"

We made it to the perimeter?She squinted her eyes open again and found them at a doorway, so close to being outside in the night—

"You might kill her by moving her!" another said.

But if Ethan thought he could get her free, then Maddy wanted to leave this place. How fervently she wished not to die here—not to be burned on a pile of bodies.

"Step aside," Ethan said. As if in a daze, she saw him draw a pistol and cock it. "I'll kill anyone who gets in my way. And I'll do it gladly."

Then…she was kissed by the coolness of the night air.

"We're goin' home, lass," he murmured down to her. "I'm takin' you home."

As soon as Ethan carried her across the threshold of that hell, blackness beckoned and she promptly passed out.

Forty-five

As Ethan ran a damp cloth over Maddy's body, he could hear Fiona speaking in low tones with the doctors in the next room.

Two days had passed since Ethan had brought Madeleine here. Ethan had told Quin to make sure his house in Grosvenor was empty by the time he was due to return, but Fiona had refused to go, browbeating Quin into telling all. Then she'd set about assembling an army of physicians in London for a wife that Ethan had "neglected to mention to her."

Even after two days, and all those doctors working, Maddy was still so pale, as if all the blood had left her body. She tossed in restless sleep, her breathing labored. Tonight she burned with fever again.

"I'm going tae get her well," Ethan had declared to the physicians, but he knew what they'd deemed Maddy's chances.

Yet they simply didn't knowher as he did. They only saw her size and felt her weak pulse. And after Ethan told them about her possible pregnancy and then of finding blood on the back of her nightgown in the infirmary, they'd informed him that she'd lost the baby and would be further weakened.

Fiona had said, "Doona worry, son, she'll have more bairns once she gets—"

"Do you think I give a damn about that?" he'd snapped.

"But the look on your face when you realized…I just thought…"

His reaction hadn't been from learning that she'd lost the babe; it had been from knowing she'd lost it in that hellhole.

By herself.

Maddy's body had received his seed and had been ready to give them a babe. But his countless lies had driven her away, straight into danger, putting her in this grueling struggle for life.

When he'd first feared that they'd lost their bairn, his mind had whispered,It could be the curse once more….

Yet Ethan knew none of this was about the curse—no matter how easy it would be to assign blame to it. No,his actions had precipitated all this, and he fully accepted all the fault.

Hour after hour, Ethan watched over her, staring at each rise and fall of her chest, willing her to keep fighting…one more breath in…one more breath exhaled….

In between fevered dreams, for what felt like days, she'd heard Ethan speaking to her.

With his voice growing thick, he'd pleaded, "Maddy lass, doona leave me." Other times, he'd threatened her. "You'll never be rid of me," he'd snapped; then, as if he worked to calm his tone, he'd added, "so you'd best…you'd best stay with me."

And he'd railed at her, his voice booming so loud the bed had seemed to shake. "You canna do this—take my goddamned heart and then leave me! You think I will no' follow?"

She knew he was constantly there, was aware of his movements and comprehended his words, but she couldn't seem to open her heavy eyelids or speak.

At night, he would wrap his body around hers, keeping her warm, whispering against her hair, "You enjoy being contrary. Then prove them all wrong and get better." He'd clutched her hip, then balled his fist there. "Ah, lass, they canna understand how strong you are."

Sometimes she heard other voices, doctors, she thought, and occasionally an older woman with a Scottish accent. The woman spoke now: "Ethan, these physicians are doing their best."

"It's no' good enough!" he roared in answer, then cursed the unseen doctors in some of the vilest language Maddy had ever heard. Directly after he kicked them out of the room, a door slammed, and a cool breeze whistled over her from the impact.

Finally, her eyelids didn't feel too heavy to open. She blinked against the light for several moments. She perceived his form standing near the bed and waited as her vision began to focus.

He raked his fingers through his disheveled hair as a pretty red-haired lady frowned up at him.

"She'll wake soon, Ethan. The fever has broken."

"They said thatyesterday . And still she has no'."

"If she did right now," the woman said, "you would scare the poor girl to death. You've no' shaved or changed your clothes in days. And you look half-mad."

"You ken Iam half-mad, well on the verge."

When he began pacing, she said, "You must calm yourself. Your anger with the physicians will no' help your wife"—her gaze flickered over Maddy and away, then returned immediately—"but slamming the door like that just might wake her."

"What do you—?" His shoulders tensed. He rasped, "Are you sayin' she's…?"

"You dinna tell me she has such pretty blue eyes. Look behind you, son."

He whirled around, seeming to loom over the bed. Maddy stared up in shock. His eyes were red and wild, his beard growing. His clothes were wrinkled, his sleeves rolled. He looked as if he wanted to launch himself at her.

The woman said something in Gaelic that made Ethan scowl and his hand shoot up to hisbeard ? He froze, and his brows drew together.

How long had he been with her?

Ethan looked at her with such yearning, but he seemed to force himself to back away from her. "You need tae drink," he suddenly said, dashing to a nearby pitcher. When he poured, Maddy could hear the pitcher clanking against the glass.

The woman raised her eyebrows at Ethan, then told Maddy, "I'm Lady Fiona, your mother-in-law, and I'm verra pleased to be meeting you this morning."

When Ethan returned to the bed with a glass of water, Maddy asked, "Where am I?"

He lifted Maddy's head and helped her drink. "You're in London, in our town house." Maddy couldn't seem to drink it fast enough. "Easy, then," he murmured.

When he took the nearly empty glass away, Maddy asked, "C-Corrine?"

"I could no' find her, but I have men searching in Paris," he said. "Maddy, I doona believe she'd been sick."

Maddy closed her eyes with worry, then quickly opened them, afraid to go to sleep again.

He ran his hand over the back of his neck. "But Bea—"

"No," she whispered. "I know."

Lady Fiona said something in Gaelic, then in English added, "Ethan, why don't you go get cleaned up now while I visit with my new daughter-in-law?"

He hesitated, then the two of them seemed to share a look. Before he turned to the door, Ethan gruffly said to Maddy, "Verra glad you're better, lass." As he trudged from the room, she thought she saw him swiping a sleeve over his eyes.Oh, Ethan.

Once he'd left, Lady Fiona said, "He's been worried about you, to say the least." She sat on the edge of the bed. "Now, I know you must have many questions…."

"I didn't get anyone sick here, did I?"

"None of us. No' at all. To be on the safe side, I'm staying in this house for a week." She added dryly, "I hope you like cards."

Biting her bottom lip, Maddy said, "I…Lady Fiona, I lost the baby, didn't I?"

Fiona brushed Maddy's hair back from her forehead. "Aye, but a slew of doctors all agree you'll be able to have more."

She'd known she'd miscarried, but still, hearing the news made sadness sweep over her, sharp and heavy. "But Ethan's not…well?"

"He does no' look it, but he's no' in ill health. I doona think he's slept in a week." She raised her brows as she said, "He loves you quite, well,fiercely . I'm just happy you'll be able to be together and start anew."

Maddy's eyes began to grow heavy again. "Lady Fiona, I don't know what you've been told—"

"Lass, I know everything. But understand, he's changed. Speaking no' as his mother but one woman to another…when a man like Ethan finally learns to love, it's forever."

"Bloody hell!"

He'd nicked himself again. His hands were shaking so badly, yet Fiona expected him to shave and clean up? Said he'd frightened his own wife with his appearance.

He probably had as he'd battled the nigh overwhelming urge to squeeze her in his arms. Maddy's eyes had been wide in her pale face as she stared up at him.

It had been everything he could do to force himself to leave that room—but earlier his mother had suggested she speak with Maddy alone once she woke. Fiona had told him there was a small chance Maddy might not even have known about the baby.

He clung to that.

When he nicked himself again, he threw the razor down. He rested his hands on the basin and hung his head.Please, doona let her have known. With Bea's death and his betrayal and Corrine's disappearance, he didn't know how much more his lass could take….

How long did his mother want with Maddy?

Ethan couldn't stay away any longer. He hastily dressed, then returned. As he strode in, Maddy's eyes were heavy-lidded, as if she was struggling to stay awake.

When he hurried to sit beside her, she weakly lifted her hand to graze her fingertips over a nick on his jaw. He took her small hand in his, kissing her palm, but she'd already closed her eyes. Just as he felt a surge of panic, Fiona said, "She's just sleeping now, Ethan."

"Did she know about the babe?"Say no….

"Aye, she did. But she's a strong one, I can tell. She'll heal from all this if you help her."

Maddy might not want his help—or want anything to do with him. "Did she say anythin' about me?" he asked, sounding as desperate as he was. "About what I did?"

"She broached it. But she's in love with you, son. I can tell. You will be able to win her back."

Never again would he feel anger toward Fiona for what she'd said and done in the hours after his father's death.If Maddy had… He shuddered and squeezed his eyes closed. "I need you tae leave."

Without a word, she hastened from the room.

Just before he lost all control of his emotions.

Forty-six

Over the last five nights, Ethan had silently crept into her room to sleep with her, easing away each morning. Her fierce Highlander craving to sleep with her made her heart soften, but then she grew exasperated.

Every time she'd tried to talk to him about what had happened, he'd shied away, clearly thinking she was not strong enough to handle his confessions after only six days of recovery. But she was healing rapidly now that she'd turned the corner. Today, she'd been able to sit up for a good part of the afternoon to play cards with Lady Fiona, who was scheduled to return to Scotland the next day.

She truly liked Fiona, enjoying that she still scolded Ethan. He grumbled, but Maddy sensed that whatever conflict between them had finally been resolved.

Maddy needed to get something resolved with him as well, settled for good or ill, just so she could begin to make sense of all that had transpired.

That night, she made herself stay awake, waiting for him to steal into the room. He came directly after midnight and quietly undressed. When he slowly pulled back the cover, about to ease in and join her, she said, "Ethan, don't you think it's time we discussed what happened?"

He exhaled. "Aye, I suppose it is." He slung on his trousers without energy, then turned up the bedroom lamp. After placing pillows behind her and helping her sit up in bed, he pulled a chair beside her. "How did you find out?"

"I'd written the land agent at Iveley about visiting the property because I'd wanted you to see where I grew up. But apparently, you had not only been to Iveley Hall—you'd owned it for years. Since my father died."

"Aye. I'd bought up his debts. Including the one against Iveley."

"So you did plot revenge against my family. Care to tell me what it was over?"

"You dinna draw a conclusion?"

"I think…I think my father discovered you and my mother in bed together. I think you were the man with her that night at Iveley."

"Inever touched her!" Ethan said vehemently. "I did go to meet her, but I had misgivings and tried to leave."

Maddy quirked a brow. "Do you make it a habit to go to assignations and then not keep them? Like with the barmaids?"

"I had a strong feeling that I should no' touch Sylvie. I had a realization with the others. Everything's led me to you."

"What happened that night, Ethan?"

He ran a hand over his drawn face. "If I try to acquit myself, I only impugn your parents."

"I have to hear this," she insisted. "I have to finally know what happened."

His brows drew together, and the pain in his eyes staggered her. "Then I'll tell you, though I doona relish it." In his low tone, he described a night of lies and weakness and unimaginable malice.

When he revealed that her mother had accused him of rape, Maddy was rocked. When he told her Brymer had cut him, Maddy's tears began to fall unchecked.

Ethan had been falsely accused, beaten, and then disfigured—while Maddy had been sleeping soundly not far away.

Her father had allowed it, Brymer had enjoyed it, and her mother had sat back and done nothing, even when she'd known a young man was being tortured in their stables.

"Oh, God," Maddy whispered as the full weight of his revelation sank in. "Ethan, I am so sorry for what they did to you."

"Doona dare apologize for them! This has nothing to do with you. Thinking otherwise was my mistake. And doona pity me—I had my retribution, as you well know. I bought up your father's loans and called them earlier than they would've been," Ethan said, his voice harsh. "And called them at the same time. I'm responsible for your losing your home."

Wait, called themearlier ? "Would it have happened eventually, or was it all you?" When Ethan clenched his jaw, refusing to answer, and she just stopped herself from sucking in a breath.

Oh, this must be a jest.She'd known there'd been debts, money struggles. She remembered her parents' fights, her mother always wanting more. Maddy probably would have ended up in La Marais without Ethan's interference.

"And your revenge on Brymer? Did you kill him?"

"Aye."

She nodded, glad to hear it. The image of that man stringing up Ethan and eagerly taking a knife to him…Maddy shuddered.

"And Tully?" she asked nervously. She remembered he'd always been kind to her.

"I spared him."

She exhaled a relieved breath, and not just for Tully—she was relieved to know Ethan could show mercy when it was warranted. "But what about me? You returned for me only to hurt me further."

"I tried to tell myself it was for revenge but realized early on that there was no way I could willfully hurt you. Take pleasure in knowing that my sinister plan for revenge came right back tae bite me on the arse." He leaned forward, elbows to his knees. "Maddy, I was fallin' for you from the beginning."

"Are we even truly married?"

He raised his brows as if shocked she had doubts about that. "Bloody hell, we are!"

"Was the night of the masquerade part of your plan?"

He shook his head. "I dinna know who you were until the next morning."

A thought struck her, and she narrowed her eyes. "What about Le Daex? Did you have something to do with that?"

Ethan hesitated, then said, "Aye. I dinna want you getting engaged before I could return for you."

"Yet another lie? Any others I should know about? More secrets?"

"There are more secrets. Ten years' worth of bad things I've done. I will no' burden you with the details unless you insist, but know that I ultimately acted toward a greater good. And sometimes…sometimes I even did things you might have been proud of."

She'd known he could be heroic if he chose—and that he could also be a scoundrel. She rubbed her temples.

"This has been too much," he said at once, sounding alarmed. "Does your head ache?"

"I'll be fine. I just want to get this over with. Is there anything else?" she asked more faintly, praying there wasn't.

He sighed. "Aye. I can speak French."

"Of course," she muttered in a deadened tone.

"Maddy, I ken that I've wronged you, but do you think you can forgive what I've done tae you? I'm no' saying this minute. But in time?"

"After all these lies, how can I trust what you're saying now? Give me a reason to, Ethan. Iwant to."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I doona know why you should trust me or forgive me, other than the fact that…that I'm in love with you," he said gruffly. "Tell me what tae do tae win you back, and it's done."

It seemed a thousand emotions warred to overwhelm her. She still felt resentment at Ethan's deceit. Shame and disgust for her parents' actions burned in her.

And she was embarrassed by how badly she wished she knew none of this and could just go back to the life they'd made together.

But above all, she felt…weary.

"I want to get well, to get strong again before I make any decisions." And one place called to her as no other did. "Take me to Carillon."

Maddy had ached for this place, yearning to return to the life she'd had at Carillon. But even after weeks of healing here, she was far from that existence.

She sat in front of her mirror, combing out her hair for bed, musing over her time here. The tension between her and Ethan had been grueling. He was standoffish. She felt awkward. They didn't seem to know what to do with each other.

Whenever she'd strolled the property, savoring all the new blooms and growth and regaining her strength, she'd felt him watching her, felt his palpable yearning. Once she'd been strong enough to ride her horse, he'd accompanied her, remaining silent beside her. If she'd stopped to gather flowers, he would dash over to help her down from the saddle. Each time, he held her longer as he gazed down at her, his eyes dark with emotion.

And this week, when he'd gotten word that Corrine had been found and was on her way to Carillon, Maddy had been so excited she'd hugged him. He hadn't seemed to be able to let her go, even when she pulled back. Finally he had, but he'd been stiff, looking pained.

It had turned out that Corrine had been knocked unconscious in the frantic struggle for Maddy, then carried away from the city by fleeing friends. But she was perfectly safe now and on her way here. The worry for her had been like a weight pressing on Maddy's chest—and now it was lifted.

With each day that passed, Maddy had formed a clearer picture of how she wanted her future to be. She needed to talk to Ethan about what she'd decided, but he seemed like he'd rather have his teeth pulled. Every time she approached him with a serious demeanor, he got an alarmed look about him and changed the subject, or left the room.

Her infallible Highlander seemed unsure, hesitant, and Maddy was just as much so, having no idea how to proceed with him.

She rose from her dresser with a sigh, then crawled into her large, empty bed, missing him like an ache before she fell asleep.

Sometime in the night, thunder boomed outside, and Maddy shot up in bed, gasping for breath. Tears streamed down her face from one of the worst nightmares she'd ever had.

She'd dreamed she was lost on the coast and couldn't find Ethan anywhere. At every turn, around each craggy bend, she got farther and farther from him, no matter how badly she yearned to find him—

Lightning flashed again. A storm was coming, making her ache turn to apprehension, and she leapt to her feet. Had Ethan not heard her cry out? Each night he slept in the room next to hers.

She ran to his room, but he wasn't there. Searching the manor with growing unease, she finally spied a light coming from the orangery and ran down the stairs and along the covered walk to reach him.

Inside, the loud rumble of the boiler echoed against the glass. She'd known he could fix it! But where was he? Catching her breath, she cried,"Ethan?"

The boiler whistled to a stop, and he shot to his feet, dropping tools as he strode for her. "What's happened?" he demanded, grasping her shoulders.

"N-nothing…"Now she felt silly for her reaction, like a frightened girl.

"Is a storm coming, then?" He glanced up at the glass ceiling. "I could no' hear it before."

"I…I think so. What are you doing here so late?"

"I wanted to surprise you. Get this thing running once and for all." He rubbed his palms down her arms. "Tell me what's troubling you, lass."

She gazed up at him and the words slipped out. "What has happened to us? What are we doing?"

"Truth?" he asked, tenderly brushing his thumb over her cheek.

"Truth," she answered with a firm nod.

He exhaled. "I'm giving you time to come to terms with everything, because I'm…I'm bloody dreading that you're going to tell me you want to go."

"Go? Am I going somewhere?"

"Do you no' want to? You have your own estate now. And you said once you got strong again, you'd make a final decision about us."

"Why haven'tyou said anything?"

"I doona want you to go—Ireally doona want you to go—but I dinna want to affect your decision. With everything that's happened—the illness and Bea's death and the babe…everyone thinks you must be feeling battered about just now. And I've been told that I occasionallyexert undue pressure to get my way. I dinna want to push you into a decision you would regret." Catching her eyes, he said, "I'm no' in this for the short cull,aingeal ."

"What if I've been trying to talk to you because I've decided that I want to give us another chance? That I want to stay here or at Carrickliffe or wherever, just as long as we can start again?"

He looked as if she'd slogged him, and his hands fell from her. "Even after all that I did?"

"Ethan, I admit I still have questions. I still have fears. But I don't believe we have to have everything figured out before I can…before I can get my husband back. And Ireally want my husband back."

"You're"—his voice broke lower—"you're keepin' me, then?"

"My life is with you. I just want to get back to it. Mind you, we still have a lot to muddle through, but I think you're worth the chance."

"Howcan you forgive me? There were times when it dinna seem possible tae me."

"Each day here, things became clearer," she murmured as the rain began to fall, pattering on the glass above them. "To forgive you, I simply recall how you faced hell to save my life. And then I remember how amazing it is when we have good days together." She twined her hands behind his neck and lightly pressed her body against the hard warmth of his, craving this closeness so badly. Their breaths were growing shallow, passion stoking, like the building storm outside. "Don't you think that's enough to start with?"

His big hand cupped her nape in that way that made her melt. "If it means I get you back…then, aye, I do." His other trailed to her bottom to gently knead her.

Once the storm began to whip outside, pelting the glass, she strangely was unafraid. For some reason, she didn't feel it was a harbinger of doom this time. She thought it mirrored the intensity of what was growing between them—his dark eyes were promising her a hot, thorough taking, and she knew hers were pleading for it.

He curled his finger under her chin as he rasped, "I'm goin' tae get it right this time, you know."

"I believe that, Scot." She gazed up at him with all the love she felt. "That's why you're still the dark horse I'm betting on."

"Ach, you're lookin' at me like you used tae. A husband could get used tae looks like that."

She smiled, whispering breathlessly, "I wager you're going to have to."