Asea squall had whipped up late in the night, and the ship was pitching.

"Tell me how you came to be in La Marais," Ethan said, as if to take her mind off the storm. He was leaning up against the headboard, with her lying on his torso.

"What did Quin tell you?" Maddy asked, drawing back so she could see his face.

"That your father died in a duel and creditors seized your home. Your mother was French and took you back to Paris."

She shrugged. "That's about it, really."

"No, it's no'. I want to know everything."

"So you can have more ammunition to be mean to me?" she asked.

"No. I'm curious about you."

"I'll tell you, but first you have to reveal something about yourself that I didn't know."

He frowned. "Like what?"

"Something about your past. A deep, dark secret."

He seemed to be giving this a lot of thought, taking his time before answering, "I used to think I was cursed."

Her eyes widened. "Truly?"

"Aye. There's a book that's been handed down in my family for centuries—it contains foretellings that have all come true. They have for my brothers and myself as well."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you jesting with me? Because I would never take you for superstitious."

"O' course I'm superstitious—I'm bloodyScottish ."

"In any event, this doesn't sound like a deep, dark secret to me. I think it's adorable that someone as strong and powerful as you, with so much control over your destiny, has irrational beliefs."

"Adorable?" he spat. "And I suppose you doona have any irrational beliefs?"

"I do. Very much so. But then, I don't have a lot of control over my own destiny."

They both fell silent.

She quickly reached up to touch his shoulder. "Ethan, I didn't mean that I felt forced to come with you. I chose to. And I'm glad I did."

His demeanor grew guarded. "I've told you what I will, now it's your turn."

"It's not a pretty tale," she said. "And I don't want to hurt your opinion of me."

"What do you mean?"

"Brides from happy families make happy families. That was inGodey's , which is an irrefutable source."

"It will no' hurt my opinion. Now tell me."

"Do you want the long story or the cursory one?" she asked.

"Tell me everything."

She took a deep breath and began, "Well, contrary to what everyone thinks, my life didn't fall apart on the day of my father's death. It was on a night six months before that."

A night of secrets and fury that she had never been able to understand.

"It was all so dreamlike, Ethan." Lightning crackled just outside the ship, and she shivered. "I went to sleep safe and secure, and I woke into a different life, a foreign world filled with strangers. It's hard to explain."

He rubbed her arm with his big scratchy palm. "Try."

"I've struggled for years to put together what occurred that night." Her brows drew together as memories assailed her. "The first thing I noticed when I woke was how jumpy the servants were. They peered at me as if to gauge what I knew of the night before. Finally, I learned that two of our family's most trusted servants had been fired—my father's right-hand man and my mother's maid and confidante." She trailed off, studying his expression. "Are you going to ridicule everything I'm about to tell you?"

"No' going to ridicule anythin'."

She exhaled, then admitted, "I think my father…found my mother in bed with another man."

"Why would you think that?" he asked in a measured tone.

"Because it became apparent that my normally passive father had…struck my mother over the night." Maddy could well remember her mother's glaring blackened eye, and how her father hadn't been able to bear looking at his once beloved wife.

"That does no' mean—"

"He'd come home early from a business trip that very night. And honestly, knowing my mother, I would be shocked if she hadn't committed adultery regularly during their marriage. She was a weak, selfish woman, and my father was a good deal older than she was."

"I see." Ethan was tense, his body stiff as a plank. She studied him, wondering if he was disgusted—or dreading what she might say next.

"At one point that day, my father absently patted my head and said, 'Maddy girl, Papa's made some mistakes.' Then he wandered off aimlessly. He was never the same. It was like I'd never known either of them."

"After that night, what happened?"

She noticed Ethan's jaw was clenching and said, "I don't know if I should be telling you this."

"I need to hear it, Madeleine."

"But it doesn't—" She broke off under his hard stare and murmured, "Very well."

Ethan knew the events—had orchestrated them—and now, in a low haunted tone, she supplied the aftermath.

"Half a year after that night, my father died, and the creditors descended upon us. My mother and I came home from my father's funeral and were turned away from Iveley Hall—that's the name of my childhood home—in a violent storm. I was so frightened. Especially since my mother was completely unprepared to care for me. I remember asking her once, 'Are we going to find a place to live soon?' Instead of answering, 'Of course. We'll have a spot of luck any day now,' my mother snapped, 'I only know what you know, Madeleine. So what do you think? Tell me.'"

A place to live…

As Madeleine recounted the harrowing trials of an eleven-year-old girl forced away from everything she had ever known, Ethan felt tears on his chest. He learned how painful it had been to be turned away from her home, from all the possessions that a young girl would believe she couldn't live without—her dolls, her dresses, her beloved pets…

…how terrifying and sordid La Marais had been when she'd first seen it.

And he'd learned that Madeleine knew nearly enough to put everything together. She was keenly perceptive, and obviously had been an observant child. Already she suspected another man had been in her home.

How long would it be before she uncovered enough to determine it was Ethan?

When she'd finally fallen asleep, curled up and clutching her ring on the ribbon, he stared down at her, unable to stop himself from petting her soft hair.

After tonight, he understood far more about the depth of her courage and indomitable spirit. Those traits in her made the failings in Ethan's own character all the more obvious.

That recognition was painful and unwanted.

Most people assumed bad men didn't try to better themselves because they couldn't be bothered to make the effort or because they didn't know how to make the right choices. Few supposed it had nothing to do with the future and everything to do with the past. Recalling black deeds with a different perspective was hellish.

Ten years ago—when he'd been older than she was right now—he'd pitied himself, swilling liquor, behaving cruelly, and he'd been punished. Madeleine had done nothing but show strength of character and a will that humbled him, yet she'd been punished, too, for her parents' mistakes.

Punished by Ethan. He often imagined how he might begin to explain that to her:

"I was drunk one night and decided to tup, well, Sylvie, your mother. She cried rape to your father—a weak-willed cuckold who was easily swayed and kept henchmen on hand to do foul tasks. Brymer cut off half my face, so later I gutted him. After I bankrupted your father, no doubt pushing him closer to his suicide, I seized your home and assets, turning you and your mother out into the streets."

If she hadn't run screaming by then, he could finish, "Then Sylvie took you, at the tender age of eleven, to hell, and I knew about it. I let it happen when I could have spared you. And if all that wasn't bad enough, I ruined your engagement with the count and came to Paris specifically to deceive and use you."