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."

"Certainly." She sat with her hands in her lap.

"First of all, there's to beno stealing . And we're to act as husband and wife, which means you will no' be flirting with any of the men as you did in the tavern," he said with a glower. "And doona bloody steal anything. You ken?"

She blinked at him. "I'm getting the feeling that you don't want me to...steal?" Growing serious, she said, "I didn'tenjoy taking things that didn't belong to me. I only did it out of necessity. Take away the necessity, and I won't steal. It's as simple as that."

"What about the flirting?"

"Jealous, Scot?"

"No' likely. If you blatantly trifle with other men, people will wonder about our marriage."

"Are those the only rules? Should be simple enough. How long should I say we've been married?"

"A week. This is our honeymoon."

"Would you like me to fawn over you when we go about in public?"

"No' at all. In fact, I will no' want you underfoot. There's no reason for us to be constantly together." At her surprised expression, he said, "Understand, Madeleine, I've been a bachelor for many a year and a loner besides. It will irritate me if you're always around."

Though his words hurt her feelings, she nonchalantly tapped her temple. "Be overfoot."

"There's more than one hundred and fifty other passengers aboard. I'm sure if you make an effort, you can befriend one of the other wives on board."

"I'm not a wife."

"They don't know that. So you should be able to entertain yourself during the days - all day."

"I shall endeavor to make friends and stay busy - and out of your way."

"But I'll expect you back in the cabin when the sun goes down."

"Very well. You've made my instructions clear." She rose, kissed him on the cheek, then collected her reticule.

"So you're going?"

"Of course," she said, her tone sunny. "Have a wonderful day, Ethan."

The baffled look on his face before she walked out was priceless. Had he expected her to fight for the right to be near him? She couldn't force him to want to spend more time with her. That just had to come.

Besides, Maddy well understood what it was like to be saddled with someone she'd rather not be around. Her own mother had had a cloying personality, and her neediness had always made Maddy crazed. Maddy would be deuced if she'd behave the same way.Distant, aloof. That's what she would be like.

Out on deck, Maddy discovered that theBlue Riband was one of the finest ships she'd ever seen. It was a sleek steamer with full sail rigging - and no paddle wheels above the waterline. She'd have to ask Ethan about that. If she hadn't seen the two smokestacks, she would have sworn they were on a sailboat.

Though they weren't to get under way until the high tide tonight, the ship already appeared full. Couples strolled a marked promenade; game tables were set up on board, with special holders for the playing cards so they wouldn't blow away. Nannies chased children across decks that gleamed in the bright sun.

The activity helped distract her from her wounded feelings, and now that she had the luxury of a day at leisure, she would enjoy it. She would lie on a chaise and have someone fetch her tea while she reveled in the fact that her boots didn't hurt her.The life!

The wind blew up, whipping the stiff fabric of her dress, and the crisp sound pleased her. After a quick scan of the decks, Maddy determined that her dress was finer than any she could see on the other women.

A group of seated young wives took her measure - they reminded Maddy of the boulangerie women, but these were richer. Maddy subtly raised her chin, but only so she could incline her head to them when she passed, as if she were royalty.

They all had jewelry - pearl earrings, chokers, and diamond brooches. Maddy's ears and neck felt bare. But it didn't matter, because she could brazen out the situation, fabricate reasons why she had none.

L'audace fait les reines. Audacity makes queens.

By the time the ship made port, she'd have convinced the "other" young wives that she yearned to wear all her many, many jewels, but she was a helpless slave to fashion - and this year Paris fashion dictated wearing no jewelry - except,naturellement , when dining at court.

Chapter Twenty-eight

"Madeleine, damn it," Ethan yelled, "I said to wake up!"

Maddy shot up in bed, sucking in a ragged breath. Her cheeks were wet, and the sheets were twisted. She stared dumbly into the darkness, tears continuing to fall.

He lit a lantern, then hastened back to the bed with his brows drawn. He awkwardly patted her shoulder, then removed his hand. "Uh, there, now. You should...you need tae stop cryin'. Directly." He looked as if he was bewildered by her tears. "Why did you have a nightmare? Is it because you're away from your home?"

"No, I often have them," she answered in a whisper. This was so mortifying. They'd had such a nice night once they'd met back at the cabin - dinner, then kissing, then touching. But now...

Maddy hadn't wanted him to see her nightmares, not yet at least.

She remembered an issue ofGodey's Lady's Book she'd read. An entire article had addressed how prospective grooms were attracted to radiant, carefree women."Brides from happy families make happy families!" Godey's had declared.

Ethan had just witnessed an example of how carefree shewasn't .

"Do you want to tell me what you dreamed?" he asked.

Even if she wanted to, she didn't think she was ready to tell him the details of her nightmares - or of her troubling fear that she might somehow turn out to be a bad mother, like her own. When she shook her head in answer, he appeared relieved. To his credit, he still offered, "Uh, maybe tomorrow, then?"

"Maybe," she sniffled, then pointed at the lantern. "C-can we leave that lit?" When he frowned at her, she quickly added, "Unless they charge for oil?"

"We'll make it like daylight in here, if you care to."

"I've always wondered - why would you ever be in the dark if you can afford not to be?" Dashing the last of her tears away, she asked, "Do you ever have nightmares, Ethan?"

"I used to. But no longer."

"Truly?" she asked, surprised he admitted to them. "How did you get rid of them?"

"I took care of what was bothering me." At her questioning look, he said, "I doona let wrongs go unanswered. Someone had given me pain" - his expression grew so harsh it made her chilled - "and then I gave it back."

Making an effortnot to cheat, Maddy acted as dealer for a game ofvingt-et-un among her new coterie of young matrons. Already she'd collected a group of them who thought her royally rich and her style fabulously avant-garde - so much so that they refrained from wearing jewelry because she did.

Ethan had seemed astonished that she'd made not merelyone friend but a baker's dozen of them. Her new acquaintances helped keep her busy each day while she stayed away from him.

So he could read agricultural journals in the stuffy club room.

After a mere four days of being engaged to him, Maddy now found herselfmissing him. But ever since she'd had that nightmare, he'd been even more standoffish. Hour after hour, Maddy had played cards and dice and listened as the women talked of their husbands and children, so she could stay away until sundown.

Of all the coterie, Maddy liked Owena Dekindeeren best. She was a no-nonsense young Welshwoman, who'd married a Belgian businessman. Though only twenty, Owena already had two children.

Lost in thought, Maddy almost didn't hear her say, "We can't all be so lucky as Madeleine with her attentive husband."

Maddy slowed her shuffling and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"At first I thought your husband was monitoring your gambling, like my Neville does with me," Owena said. "But I vow, I think your husband simply likes to look at you."

"Oh, yes," Maddy began in a scoffing tone, "he's so attentive he comes by once a day."

Another woman said, "No, no. He only approaches you once a day, but we often see him lingering nearby."

"His expression is so dark" - Owena grinned - "and...hungry." The women tittered, fluttering their ostrich-feather fans, scandalized.

But why would Ethan come by and not speak to me?Maddy wondered, absently shuffling.Why has he been so distant -  ?

Realization hit her. Cards flew among the coterie.Ethan is already falling for me!

Maddy mumbled apologies as she hastily scooped cards from the table and from one woman's bucket hat. Yes, falling in love with her. And that was precisely why he'd been so cold!

"Shall I deal, Madeleine?" Owena asked, amused. "You look distracted."

"Oh, yes, please," Maddy said, her thoughts racing....

Although Maddy's own mother hadn't loved her, Quin hadn't fallen for her, and even Ethan seemed not to like her very much at times, Maddy boldly believed she was a lovable person.

People generally liked her, and she'd always made friends easily. And if she turned on the charm? She was nigh unstoppable. MacCarrick didn't stand a chance, she reasoned, and the poor man probably sensed his heart's impending surrender - which would explain his increasing coolness.

Naturally he would put up a brusque front as a defense! For a bachelor of his advanced years, yielding to marriage was one thing, but yielding one's heart was quite another.

And he'd already betrayed hints of his growing affection. Late into each night they touched and kissed and talked of nothing serious, learning each other's bodies. He taught her how he liked to be caressed and wanted her to reveal what she desired from him.

He'd nuzzle her neck and her breasts so gently, kissing her lips tenderly. He'd compliment her, pleasure her, and then gruffly insist she sleep against him as he held her close.

Whenever they were alone in their cabin, he would walk around naked and unabashed - what male wouldn't, with a physique like that? - and she would lie on her front, chin on her hands, gazing at him in wonder. As she studied his unclothed body moving, she couldn't help recalling some of the scenes she'd witnessed in La Marais. Applying the general ideas to him, her curiosity grew each minute.

Every morning, she'd joined him at the basin to explore him as he struggled to concentrate on shaving. She'd run her fingers over his backside, then to his torso and lower, which always earned her a trip to the bed.

Her attraction to him was getting worse. Every encounter between them made her want two more, and her affection for him wasn't far behind. Especially since he'd begun once again to demonstrate that sense of humor she'd enjoyed. Her heart melted each time he grated teasing words to her with a self-conscious grin.

At breakfast today, he'd looked out from behind his paper and said, "Have you been cheating when you gamble on board?"

"As if I need to. Winning against the passengers is as challenging as hunting cows."

"Doona scoff, young lass," he'd said, making his brogue low and rumbling. "Cows can be wily beasts."

She'd batted her eyelashes as she asked, "Ethan, would you lay down your life to protect me if a cow had me cornered?"

"Aye" - he'd resumed reading - "I'd smite the bovine down."

Maddy had laughed until he'd folded the paper down, with his brows drawn and his lips curling into that unpracticed grin.

She sighed happily. MacCarrickwould resist her, of course.Ah, but in the end, it will do him no good.

She decided, then and there, in the middle of a hand of blackjack, that she was going to make the Highlander fall in love with her.

The problem with telling Madeleine not to be underfoot was that she'd listened.

Ethan had expected her to make a friend or maybe two - not to gather up a gaggle of women to follow her around and emulate everything she did. They'd even stopped donning jewelry because she wore none.

Though Madeleine had proved to be charming and sociable, Ethan was still surprised at the sheer ease with which she'd made friends. Having never quite managed the feat himself, he'd always believed it difficult.

She played cards and gossiped with them all day, having no trouble staying away from him.

And this meant that if he wanted to see her, he had to pursue her all over the ship. He'd strived to stay away, passing most of the days in the ship's club room. Since the majority of male passengers were gentlemen of leisure and landowners, the reading journals available on board consisted mainly of agricultural periodicals.

Ethan was out of study with the subject. He could man a howitzer and shoot a target between the eyes from half a mile away, and he knew the comprehensive geopolitical conditions of every country in Europe and Asia, but the newest farming techniques for loamy soil proved foreign to him.

He'd decided that since he was traveling to Carillon, one of his working estates, he could examine the operations while he was there. So he'd dived into the journals, intending to learn - and to keep his mind from Madeleine.

But staying away proved challenging, knowing what awaited him. On the few occasions he'd approached her, her face would light up, making it all the more pleasurable to see her. No one in memory had smiled upon seeing him, and he always had to stifle the urge to look behind him.

Today, the longest he'd made it was an hour before he'd found his feet eating the distance to wherever she was. Even merely watching her from afar was agreeable to him.

So he spent the days in a state that he could swear was close to bloody pining, counting down the hours until night when he could have her all to himself.

He, Ethan MacCarrick, craved a woman's attention.

And he felt himself lowering his guard around her. He'd actually caught himself wondering what she would think about Carrickliffe, and about his brothers and their wives - and, ach, that sounded odd.

Madeleine was already friends with Jane. This situation could get tricky if Ethan hurt the girl terribly.

What had Quin predicted? That Ethan wouldn't know up from down anymore?Bully for you, Quin, you've got me pegged. His lips curled.But she chose me over you, you sod.

Things used to be cut-and-dried for Ethan. He used to be detached from others, but now he wasn't so sure. At least with her. Even as he looked hard for things to dislike about her, at every turn he was burdened with additional examples of how well she fit with him.

Each night he and Madeleine indulged their lusts. He'd experienced more pleasure at her hands than he had in a decade before. Hecould get used to that - if he wasn't careful.

Toward dawn, they continued their nightly battles in bed wherein he attempted to get her to sleep against him instead of balled up in that way that made his chest feel uncomfortable.

If someone had told him a week ago that he'd be fighting to make a woman cling to him in sleep, he'd have laughed.

If he could just have her fully one more time, he thought he could beat this constant need. So every time he touched her, he would take more. He kept his fingers inside her longer, wanting her to crave the sensation of being filled, to train her body to hunger for his. If the situation had been reversed, this would have been the way to make him want more. Conditioning.

He knew he was playing for more now, though he didn't understand precisely what he wanted from her.

Yet she remained unfaltering. He was beginning to believe she truly wouldn't sleep with him outside of marriage. If so, once they landed he would only be able to put her off for a few weeks before she demanded matrimony. Or she'd leave.

Now neither of those scenarios was acceptable.

A plan began to form. Other women had enjoyed his coarse treatment. Cold and domineering had served him well in the past, getting him into the skirts of more women than he could count - it could work with her as well.