If You Deceive

Chapter Sixteen

Maddy didn't shriek or startle, just gripped the umbrella like a cricket bat as she turned.

She gasped in recognition. "The Scot!" It couldn't be him, yet those eyes, that accent, and his towering height told her it could be no other. She surveyed his face, shocked to find that the man she'd thought was so perfect was horribly scarred.

He stood motionless, as if steeling himself for her reaction. She didn't think he even breathed while she stared at the jagged mark.

"Well, I see now why you wouldn't take off your mask." She tilted her head. "You had to cover up the ten-inch-long scar twisting across your face."

His eyes narrowed. "Aingeal, there is only one thing on my body that's ten inches long, and if you'll recall, the scar is no' it."

"The scaris that long." She gave him a smirk as she said, "Regarding the other, well, I hardly even remember." As if she'd ever forget that searing pain. "How long have you been spying on me?"

"I was no' spying on you. I was making sure you dinna get waylaid by bloodthirsty French barmaids. Now, I think it's time I told you my name. I'm Ethan MacCarrick, and I've—"

"Why?" She tossed aside the umbrella, then skipped down the steps, starting down the street.

When he caught up to her, he was frowning. "Why what?"

"Why do you think it's time I learned your name? Why would you think I care to? I don't, sobonne nuit ." Maddy hadn't thought this day could possibly get worse. She quickened her pace to get home before something else happened. She would rid herself of these torturing boots, crawl under the covers, not to wake for days—and forget she'd ever seen the Scot.

"You doona even want to know why I'm here?"

As ever, she was curious.How did he find me? How much does he know about me? But after his cruelty the last time she'd seen him, and after the day she'd had…

She couldn't think of much more than the money she'd lost on the punch bowl and how badly her feet hurt and how she craved the oblivion of sleep. "No." She paused, tapping her chin. "Not unless you've come to return my virginity, which, regrettably, I misplaced in a cab in London." She raised her brows in question. "Don't have it with you? No? Then…good-bye." She reveled in his expression before she hurried on. Priceless. That bastard had actually imagined that she'd be happy to see him.

"Are you going home?" he called from behind her. "Say hello to the henchmen on your way in." When she slowed, he added, "How much do you owe?"

At that, she snapped over her shoulder, "Why would this be any business of yours?"

He caught up with her once more, striding beside her. "Because I might offer to help."

"And why would you do that? Out of the goodness of your black heart?"

"No. I admit I want something from you. If you'll just listen to my proposition—"

"MacCarrick, is it?" At his nod, she said, "I think I can predict what yourproposition might be, and I'm emphatically not interested!"

"Maybe, maybe no'. Share a meal with me, and we'll discuss it."

"I'm not stupid. You want to go to bed with me again. Which will never happen. I couldn't have been persuaded to evenbefore I saw your face. Now? I won't even waste my time talking about it. There's nothing you could offer that would affect that."

She could almost hear him grinding his teeth to a pulp. "I believe you're in need of a lot of things I could offer."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Winter's coming and you're living in a wet, drafty hovel."

She nearly stumbled. "You were insidemy apartment?"

"Aye, Bea let me in. We talked for a bit."

"So she's the one who told you where you could find me? Why would she do that? Did you threaten her?" she demanded. "Were you cruel to her because she's…because she's popular?"

"No, she helped me because she said youliked me," he answered, raising his eyebrows.

Bea had revealed that? How embarrassing! Maddy sounded like a simpering girl at her first cotillion.

"Corrine told me how to find you at this tavern."

Corrine, too?"I can't imagine why they helped you—my last word on the subject of you was that you were an ass."

"Corrine entreated me no' to let you get hurt by some woman named Berthé."

She slanted a glance at him. "How did you find my apartment in the first place?"

"Quin Weyland gave me an address in St. Roch, and I followed your trail to La Marais."

"You're friends with Quin?"

"I'm a family friend of the Weylands. Even related to them in a way—my brother recently married Jane Weyland."

"That makes no sense. The last I heard, Jane was supposed to marry some rich English earl."

"Believe me, I doona see it either."

"So you knew who I was the night of the masquerade?"

"No, only that you were an acquaintance of theirs as well. Listen, Madeleine, with the rate you've lost weight since I last saw you, the apple I found in your garret is likely the only dinner you're returning to, and the men outside your building are no' the type to show mercy."

She could deny none of it.

"All I'm asking you to do is share a dinner with me and hear me out." When she was still shaking her head, he snapped, "Do you really need to mull over the choice of a warm meal with me or facing those men?"

If Toumard's men were there, she'd be forced to wander the streets again. Yet still she said, "Yes, MacCarrick. Yes, I do. You were hateful that night, and the only thing that got me through it was telling myself I never had to see you again. 'Decide what's to be done with you,' you said. How galling. I want nothing from you—not then, and not now! I've taken care of myself since I was fourteen." She was almost home, to her bed, to oblivion.

"Aye, and a capable job you're doing. With the poverty, hunger, and debts. Seems you might have stuck around Quin's till I came back if this was what you were returning to." He waved a hand at the street.

Homeless men gathered around fires in clay pots, casting long shadows over the buildings. Gunfire popped in the background. Somewhere in the dark a fistfight broke out.

"Quin told me you were intelligent and practical. Surely you've the sense to at least hear me out."

"Quin talked to you about me?" she asked, slowing.

"Aye, and he knows I've come to Paris to see you. He would no' like to learn that you live in a place like this."

She would die if Quin knew! She twined her fingers. But would her pride force her to go along with the Scot? At that moment, she feared pride had just taken a generous lead over curiosity toward her downfall. She finally stopped. "I don't want him to know."

"Then come along," he said in a stern tone that must usually send people scurrying to do his bidding—because he looked perplexed when she only raised her brows at him. "Come with me, and I'll get you a room at my hotel, and you'll enjoy a nice hot meal."

"Now it's to yourhotel ? Do you think I'm a fool? Besides, I thought you preferred intercourse in moving conveyances."

He made a sound of frustration, then dug a small jewelry case from his pocket, presenting it to her. "Have dinner with me, listen to my proposition, and I'll give you this. No strings attached."

Her hand shot out for the case so swiftly that he had to blink. She whirled around, opening it. A diamond ring! "You don't mind if I examine this more closely?" she asked over her shoulder.

He quirked a brow, waving her forward. "No' at all."

She needed a streetlight. Of course, the sole one in La Marais had been torn down, its iron sold for scrap. But she could feel the stone's weight and knew it couldn't be paste.A diamond, a real one. This would pay off Toumard and keep her foryears . "One dinner earns me this?"

"Aye, you can keep the ring, regardless of your decision."

"Would you vow you won't try anything unseemly with me?"

"Unseemly? Aye, I can vow that."

She could tell the ring wouldn't fit her thin fingers, so she pulled her key ribbon from her skirt pocket. After untying the red ribbon and threading the ring along it next to her apartment key, she stowed it back into her deep pocket.

When she faced him again, he appeared to barely check a smug smirk, no doubt thinking she'd just agreed. "It's obvious you always get what you want," she said. "Maybe it'd be good for you to be turned down flat by a girl from the slum."

At that, he obviously reached his limit. He took a step forward, looking as though he planned to toss her over his shoulder.

"Ah-ah"—she wagged her finger at him—"I wouldn't do that. You won't catch me, not in my neighborhood."

He seemed to grind his teeth again, then clearly lit on an idea.

From his jacket, he pulled an apple—it washer precious apple, abducted from her home.

"No!" she cried, forced to watch as he took a big bite, chewing with exaggerated relish.

"So I take it we have an engagement for dinner," he said between bites.