"I just want to soak in that tub and think about everything. My head's spinning." She swayed on her feet. "Please, if you knew the day I've had…"

"How can I be certain you will no' run off in the night? You did before."

"If I promise not to?"

"I will give you some time to bathe, but from now on, we share a room."

She exhaled, then reluctantly nodded.

"I'll return in half an hour," he said before leaving. As he made his way downstairs to the street, he took in the chill air, trying to shake off her effect on him.

Damn it, he could go a night without touching her—a small sacrifice for the larger plan. He didn't know how well he'd acquit himself anyway. He hadn't slept more than a few hours at a time since he'd decided to journey to Paris for her, and weakness from his injury lingered.

He frowned. How would they sleep tonight? He understood why he'd had to insist they share a room, but it had been strange to do so since he'd never stayed the night with a woman in his entire life. He'd shuddered at the prospect of waking to most of them and had resented even theidea of the intrusion into his life.

After sex, when they'd sighed, reaching for him with their clinging arms, he'd bolted every time. Throwing on his clothes as he hastened out into rain, snow, or whatever element—he'd just made sure he escaped.Clingers, every bloody one of them .

Women had a lamentable and ridiculous tendency to conflate sex and affection, not understanding that these were two distinct scenarios—and that he only had interest in the former. Ethan thought they ought not go together at all….

A laughing older couple, clearly married, passed him on their way into the hotel. He studied them, supposing some people had success with matrimony. Ethan's own parents had been deeply in love. But then, their union had ended in tragedy. Would his brothers fare better—

Did Madeleine really just agree to marry me?

If he took away the charade, the fact remained that she'd acceptedhis proposal—after seeing his face.

He scowled. The only way a man who looked like him could land a beauty like her was because she was starving and in danger and she believed he could protect her. The only reason he was so repulsive was because of what her parents had done to him.

In his mind, she was his. He wasowed her. Owed the use of her soft body. In fact, it was his due to touch her anytime he pleased. Hadn't he told her she'd satisfy him whenever he desired it?

So why had he left now? Anger simmering, he stomped back up the stairs to stake his claim.

As Maddy sat in the vast plunge tub, rinsing complimentary lavender shampoo from her hair, she mused that she might—just maybe—have gotten back on her feet.

Just with that ring, currently threaded on her length of ribbon and glinting at her from the nearby bureau, she could dig her way out of debt.

And if the Scot genuinely wanted to marry her, she'd be rich! A countess even.

She leaned back in the hot water—so high it practically hit her shoulders—allowing herself to relax as the steam rose all around her. She definitely could get used to this.

Maddy frowned. But then she'd have to allow him to make love to her. If only he could do that part as well as he kissed. Nevertheless, she could endure much to receive all this. And at least she'd come to believe that he hadn't meant to hurt her that night. He'd flinched every time she brought it up.

She opened her eyes—

He was just there, watching her!

Shooting to her feet, she dove for a bath towel. She yanked it over her shoulders like a blanket, but she feared that with his eagle eyes, he'd seen her arm. How had she not heard him come in? "You said you'd give me half an hour!"

"And you said you'd satisfy me whenever I wanted it. I want it now." He removed his jacket. "Drop the towel."

"I-I never agreed to be naked!"

"You want me to marry you without ever seeing your body in the light?"

"Most do!"

In a flash, his hand shot out, stripping her of the towel. When she grappled for it, he whirled her around, and with his grip both gentle and firm, he pinned her wrists together behind her. He was maneuvering her as if he was searching for her scar, but the sight of her breasts seemed to stop him.

His voice roughened. "I only got to see these in shadow before." He made some growling sound, and his big palm covered one. She froze at the shock of heat. He hissed in a breath.

Would he still want her after seeing her body completely? She wouldn't want him anyway! Why couldn't she have bigger breasts? She squeezed her eyes closed, mortified.

Softly kneading her flesh, he grated, "No bigger than a teacup."

Maddy wanted todie .

"You might beintelligent , but you're no'pretty ," he sneered.

Die immediately.

He dropped his hand to palm her bottom, and low masculine sounds broke from his chest. "You're bloodybeautiful ." He sounded infuriated by that fact.

She peeked open her eyes and found his muscles tensed. His erection was huge, straining against his trousers.

Beautiful? After he's seen me naked in the light?

His hand began rubbing all over her, along her hips, over her belly and breasts, as if he didn't know where to touch her next—as if he was overwhelmed by a bounty. His brows drawn, his breaths haggard, he said, "So fair…"

Though he was clothed and scrutinizing her, Maddy's pleasure heightened with each stroke.He thinks I'm beautiful. The idea was so pleasing…her eyelids fluttered closed. The more he touched her, the more she wanted just to lie back and let him explore her like this.What is happening to me?

When he swept a hand over the curls between her thighs and rasped, "The color of your light hair," she shivered, having to stifle a moan.

"Aye, just let me look at you, lass," he bit out once she relaxed in his hold.

When he released her hands, she took a breath, as though gathering courage. He could tell she had the urge to cover herself—she blushed and glanced sharply away—but she didn't.

He'd taken her virginity, enjoyed her, touched her, and had never comprehended—or savored—exactly how lovely her body was.

The room's lamp cast light over her pale, smooth shoulders. Her long hair cascaded in wet curls, brushing over her hardened nipples. His gaze followed the rivulets of water sluicing down from her breasts to her belly and lower, and he hungered to follow that trail with his tongue and lips.

He heard a low rumbling sound and was surprised to find it came from within him.

She was slim, but somehow shapely, utterly womanly. Her hips flared from her tiny waist, giving her an hourglass shape. Her arse could not be more pert and lush. And the two dimples above it…? Ethan stifled a groan. He wanted to press his thumbs over them as he held her in place and thrust against her.

But her sensuous little breasts riveted him…. They were small yet high and plump, and her nipples were so sensitive, budding with the lightest touch. Though he remembered he'd always preferred heavy, full breasts, after cupping hers in his palm, he couldn't quite recall why.

She was perfect—but for one thing. His attention turned to her scar, the one she hadn't wanted him to see. He took her elbow and tugged her closer to the steam-fogged lamp, raising her arm. The mark covered about a third of the bottom of her forearm and looked like a typical burn scar, with white twisting lines contained within borders of red.

"You broke it, too?"

Her eyes widened before she made her face blank.

"When?"

She shrugged as best as she could with her arm seized. "I don't know. It happened a long time ago."

"You raised your arm against something that was burning. And it broke the bone."