If You Deceive - Cole Kresley - Страница 44

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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.

That night after they'd eaten, shared a bath, and were both naked in bed, Ethan proved Maddy's theory again and again.

Though he plied her with champagne, he was brusque and distant with her—which amused her because she viewed this as the desperate, last-ditch defense of a rattled bachelor.

She could handle his moodiness. It wasn't difficult because the idea of sharing a life with him appealed to her more and more, especially after a day like today—she'd left food on her plate and had enjoyed tea without hauling water up to her window; tonight, after their light, teasing touches in the bath, the promise of complete pleasure lingered between them.

"Ethan, I've noticed you're cross with me tonight for some reason," she asked innocently. "Have I done something to offend you?"Besides threatening the wall around your heart.

"I want to take you," he said curtly. "You're supposed to be mine, and I've already claimed you. Tonight I mean to be inside you again."

"Honestly, Scot, your moods confuse me so. I can hardly keep up with them. Maybe it's the champagne and I'm overly sensitive, but your treatment of me is very erratic—"

He pressed her shoulders to the mattress, levering his massive body over hers. But she wasn't afraid in the least. "Just lie back, wench."

She snickered. "Did you call mewench ? Well, you certainly dated yourself there, didn't you? Sometimes I forget how old you are. What's your age, anyway? Thirty-seven? Thirty-eight?"

"I'm thirty-three." Looking completely at a loss, he released her. "Am I…do you think metoo old for you?"

"Not at all, Ethan," she answered honestly.

"Then admit it, you will no' sleep with me because of my scar. I'd never had any trouble seducing before I received it—"

She laughed then, clutching her stomach, rolling on the bed. "You're fishing for a compliment!"

"Are you mad? Stop bloody laughing!"

After several tries, she finally did. "I'm sorry, I just didn't imagine you would be so vain."

"I was no' fishing for a compliment."

"Then how would you explain your comment, when you know very well why I won't sleep with you, and you know it hasnothing to do with your appearance? And so, to appease your hungry vanity—"

"Damn you, witch, I am no'—"

"—I will tell you that I find you utterly attractive, handsome, and virile."

His words seemed to die in his throat. His brows drew together as if he'd been confounded.

"I was going to tell you that morning in Paris," Maddy said, "but you kept ridiculing my poverty, and I didn't want to relinquish the one chink I'd uncovered in your armor."

He looked away when he asked, "And the scar?"

"I'm sorry you were hurt, in whatever mysterious fight you were in." She brushed her fingertips along it. This time he accepted the touch, his eyes briefly sliding shut. "But the mark highlights the fact that you're a strong man, who's been honed by a hard life."

He scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "I doona understand you."

"This is all a test, isn't it? You want to see how deep my affection for you goes or to determine if I'll be able to put up with your surliness and tolerate you in marriage."

"Aye, if that's what you believe. And only one thing can prove it—and that's for you to let me have you now."

"Scot, that's not fair."

"Do you no' want to convince me?"

She nibbled her lip, wondering how he would react if she attempted something she'd seen again and again and had always been curious about. He certainly didn't seem the type to chastise her for being overbold.

"I wonder if"—she pressed a kiss to his chest—"there might be something else I could do to prove my affection." Another kiss lower. His entire body tensed, and his thick erection pulsed. "Something I've been imagining."

"You canna be talkin' about," he shook his head hard, "aboutthat —" He hissed in a breath when she nuzzled the trail of hair below his navel, letting him feel her hot breaths. His hands shot out to cradle her face, and he rasped, "Ah, you beautiful lass, you are…."He shuddered, drawing his knees up around her. "You've been…you've been thinking about this?"

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