If You Deceive - Cole Kresley (версия книг .txt) 📗

He'd hurt her, and she was unwittingly repaying him a thousand fold—just by being herself. Every time he saw her utter lust for delicacies, and every night she woke, cheeks wet from some nightmare, his chest hurt.

The more attached he grew to the lass, the more guilt and strangling frustration he battled. The regret was riding him hard, and having never wrestled with that emotion before, he had no idea what to do with it.

He resented being saddled with that unbearable guilt; he bloody resentedher for being everything he could dream of in a wife.

Though he hadn't had a drop of liquor in years, he now found himself lurching to the drink service, pouring a whisky with shaking hands.

Staring into the glass, he muttered, "Slip."

As if he were attempting to drive Maddy away, Ethan hadn't come to her the last two nights, instead spending the time drinking—though he'd repeatedly assured her that he never did.

Maddy certainly had seen pleasanter drinkers. Lying on stoops. In La Marais.

If she and Ethan crossed paths during the day, he'd taken to snapping at her. Indeed, at times she could swear that he begrudged her very presence at Carillon. Occasionally, she'd caught him staring at her from his study window, sometimes frowning, sometimes gazing at her with a disquieting anger.

So each day she climbed up to the widow's walk. When the weather was clear, she could see all the way to the Irish shore. Pondering her situation, she'd stare at the sea for hours, watching the ferries jaunt back and forth to Ireland.

She'd finally admitted to herself that Ethan's behavior had nothing to do with the strain of work. Either he believed she would endure any kind of treatment just to marry him, or he was seeking to drive her away….

That evening she returned at sunset and found him sitting in his study, staring blankly at the whisky in a crystal glass in his palm. Her heart sank when she saw he was well on his way to getting foxed.

Though uninvited, she entered the room, sitting in the chair in front of the desk. "How was your day, Ethan?" When he shrugged, she said, "What did you do?"

"Worked."

"You're drinking," she said.

"You're observant."

Honey!She could be patient. "Have there been any leads on a new steward?" she asked.

"No."

"Can I do anything to help you? I find I have a lot of time on my hands," she added, struggling to keep a rein on her temper.

"No, no' a thing."

"We're supposed to leave in four days."

He finally faced her. "Do you think I doona bloody ken that? As if you'd let me forget it. It's always got to be about Madeleine."

"Already we've been here for—"

"And I'm no' done here yet!"

In as calm a tone as she could manage, she said, "Perhaps you'd accomplish more if you drank less?"

Ethan's expression turned menacing, his scar stark against the tan skin of his face. "Aingeal, you doona want to begin this with me, no' tonight."

"Have I done something to you, Ethan? Have I offended you or failed to please you in some way?"

"Aye, it's called intercourse."

Enough! Deuce the honey."You'll have intercourse as soon as I have matrimony—just as we agreed! It isn't as if I just sprang this on you at the last second."

"No, but then I never expected you to hold out, or I'd never have agreed to something as asinine as that."

"You can be so hateful, Scot. You love to give me reminders that I really shouldn't marry you." And, as she'd begun to suspect, he was doing it purposely, with intent. Maddy knew men.

This one was angling for a way out.

"I'm the best you're going to get"—he raised his glass—"and doona ever forget that."

She gasped, drawing back her head as if slapped. It hurt all the worse because he was…right.

"I see. I fear this is all growing wearisome."

He gave a humorless laugh. "Aye, that's what I've been saying—"

"Forme, Ethan."

Chapter Thirty-three

Maddy was finished.

Living across from Bea had taught her that it didn't matter how lovable she was, or how hard she tried to please, some men couldn't see when they had a woman to be treasured. MacCarrick had never hit her, as Bea's man had, but he could still wound.

Last night, she'd stayed awake till nearly dawn, mulling over her options. She'd heard him in the adjoining room, pacing for just as long, it had seemed.

Before she'd gone to sleep, she'd reached a startling conclusion. She didn't agree that MacCarrick was the best she could do.

When she woke, she'd started packing her bags.

Maddy could see now that when she'd accepted MacCarrick's proposition, she'd been cowed, hungry, and afraid of Toumard. Of course the Scot had looked like a godsend in light of those circumstances.

Now she concluded that there was no way she would become his legal chattel. She had other options. At worst, the ring he'd given her would see her through a few years.

When he came downstairs that morning and saw her bags, he said, "You're leaving me?"

"You're observant," she said, repeating his words from the previous night, astounded to see he was already drunk.

He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "And how do you think you're going to get anywhere?"

"I was thinking the posting coach. I've been outside so much, I've noted it comes every other day at five on the dot."

His rapidly fading smirk was satisfying. "You little fool. You're going to throw away marriage and wealth because you'reimpatient ? I've told you I'm no' done here yet."

She gave him a pitying look. "No, but I am. Ethan, I have too often and for too long been forced into unwelcome situations. Do you think I can't recognize the same trapped feeling in another? You don't want to marry me. You've made that abundantly clear. I'm merely making this easier for you."

"No, you're no'. This is naught but added pressure. An idle threat. Understand that I doona respond well to pressure."

"I'm quite serious."

"You told me you'd stay ten days. I've three days left."

"Don't play games with me, Ethan. You could have married me in this town and then again in your county. You could have done a lot of things differently. All I wanted was to be treated decently by a faithful husband. It would have taken so little to make me love you."

"Loveme, is it now?" He made a scoffing sound. "So all I would have to do is throw you some scraps of kindness and keep my prick in my pants?"

She didn't bother hiding her disgust at his drunken coarseness.

"Do you think things will be better for you without me?" he demanded. "When you go back to the gutter?"

"Actually, I'm planning to visit Claudia—"

"You mean Quin." He narrowed his eyes. "Well, it's like I said, your precious Quin was ready to offer for you. Especially after I told him I'd plucked your virtue the night of the masquerade."

She gasped. "You told him that?"Oh, God, how humiliating. "You utter bastard! You're making this so easy for me. But thank you for reminding me of Quin as an option. I'll be sure to inquire if he's still interested."

Ethan gritted his teeth, staring back at her. "You would," he said, his tone seething. "You'd take him today."

"I'd be a fool not to. He's kind and honorable—and I know that if he promised me marriage, he'd do it!"

So Madeleine was truly leaving him? The idea made his head swim.

When had she gotten under his skin this badly? When had the thought of life without her begun to make him crazed? He felt physically ill picturing her and Quin together. They'd be a perfect bloody match.Unlike her paired with me.

This had to end.

She'd won. Whether he married her or not, she'd defeated him.

"If you're going to be too selfish or too impatient to wait for me," Ethan told her, "then what can I do?" He let her see all the fury he was feeling. She blanched.