Bugger this. He knew a fine way to shake his attachment to her, like a fish throwing a lure that pains it.

He'd promised himself that he'd get Madeleine tucked away somewhere, then glut himself on other women, enjoying the return of his appetites. If he could get hard with Madeleine at the drop of a hat at his age, five times a day if he chose, then he was obviously cured.

Why hadn't he thought of this earlier? He'd take his predilections and spend them on a woman of experience, reverting to his old cruel self. Then he could make the break with Madeleine that he'd planned from the beginning. He could go back to work—to the solitary job he was truly suited for.

Decided, he said, "You're so ready to throw me over, I'll respond in kind." He stormed out, leaving her with her chin jutting up, then rode for the village.

When he reached a quayside inn, he strode inside the downstairs tavern, shoulders back, with all the confidence of a man who'd been slaking himself with a woman like Madeleine—a beauty who was longing to marry him. Or she had been. Now she was leaving. Didn't matter. He was done with her anyway. Hehad to be.

He sank down into a booth, noticing that the establishment was filled today. All these poor bastards must be trying to escape their wives.No' the life for me.

Let her go.He couldn't keep on like this. The last three nights he'd tried to distance himself, but only ended up pacing his room and drinking because he couldn't bloody sleep without her.

The guilt for her pain was razor sharp inside him.

Take another and forget her. Just common sense…

He spotted an attractive, dark-haired barmaid giving him a measuring smile—and she'd seen both sides of his face. She wore a choker like the one Madeleine had that night in Paris, though it didn't look a fraction as good.

But this woman had big breasts, which he'd always liked. He'd rub his face on them. On the ship, he'd done that with Madeleine's little ones, and she'd gone wild. He had run his shadow-bearded chin over her nipples, abrading her, then suckling her. She'd melted, coming for him before he'd even glanced at her sex.

His ballocks began to ache, and blood pooled in his groin. The woman glanced at his erection and wrongly assumed it was for her. She got breathless, those breasts heaving. No, his cockstand wasn't for her—but did it matter? If he had to fantasize about Maddy to tup this trollop, then so be it.

Break free. The alternative was unimaginable.

Two whiskies later, another wench with pouty lips caught his eye. For some reason, her expression said she liked what she saw.

Three whiskies after that and before he knew what had happened, he was entering a room upstairs with the raven-haired barmaid. He stumbled to close the door behind them, and, surprise—her pouty-lipped friend had decided to join them.

Just like old times. Ethan knew his grin was wicked. A mancouldn't change his nature.

Maddy sat on her widow's walk, hours ticking by as she waited for the coach. Silently crying, she watched the ferries bandying between the coasts for the last time.

MacCarrick hadn't returned.

What had she expected? Ethan on his knees begging for another chance? Or even politely seeing her on her journey? She angrily swiped at a tear.

She already missed him. Yes, he'd been horrid to her in the days, but those nights with him, filled with passion and pleasure and tenderness…she'd never felt closer to another person in her entire life.

Should I have fought for us more, given him more time?

She shook her head sadly. Maddy well knew that affection couldn't be forced. She couldn't make him miss her. She'd done everything she could think of to make him want her.

And yet still the regret came.Would I rather stay with him as we've been or live a life without him?

She swallowed. Maddy had drawn a line with the Scot, and perhaps she oughtn't to have.

Another tear streaked down her face. Especially since she'd gone and fallen completely in love with him.

The barmaid tried to kiss his lips but Ethan turned away, instead kissing her neck. He brushed against that ribbon choker, just as he'd done with Maddy that first night in Paris—before he'd had any idea what she would grow to mean to him.

The woman didn't taste bad, but she tastedwrong . She smelled good, but it wasn'tright .

Imagine Madeleine's scent. Imagine the taste of her soft skin.

As the barmaid unbuttoned his shirt, her pouty-lipped friend kissed his chest. When the two had his shirt off, they took turns leisurely kissing down to his navel, and he knew what would follow. Madeleine had enjoyed taking him with her mouth, somehow making the act wanton and adoring at the same time.

One of the women began unfastening his belt.

"…taken so little to make me fall in love with you,"Madeleine had said. All she wanted was a faithful husband who treated her well—and she would fall in love with him.

In love. Withhim ?

If she loved him, then she would have to forgive him what he'd done to her in the past.

She wouldhave to. Because he hadn't known her then and had never intended to hurt her. But now…if he did this…

Shouldn't he at least attempt to make her love him before he gave up on everything? Hadn't he learned from her that you fought for something you wanted?

"Stop," he grated. But they didn't, instead attending to his trousers.

Let them…Here he could take a woman, two of them, and hewouldn't? What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He'd dreamed of this day, when he would finally be a man again. He'd vowed that he would glut himself. Madeleine should have given him what he'd wanted. And she sure as hell shouldn't have selfishly pressured him, harping on marriage. Ethan didn't respond well to pressure—

Madeleine would fall in love withhim .

Clarity hit him like a lightning strike.

Ah, God, it's Maddy. It's her.It wasonly her for him. It would always be.

"Stop!"Ethan roared, plucking their fingers away and shoving himself back. He stumbled, rocked to the core. Maddy was his future embodied, yet he was behaving like before, ten years ago when he'd thought he could have no future.Weak, drinking, accepting… when, at the same age, she'd been fighting tooth and nail for a better life. He could fight for her; hecould change, as profoundly as his brother had said.

But Ethan was about to do something so idiotic—so irrevocable—that he would still lose his lass forever. He shuddered.

"What's the matter with you?" the barmaid asked, her tone baffled.

Remembering that night all those years ago, how cruel he'd been to Sylvie—and to those barmaids—and how he'd been punished for it, he said, "Sorry, ladies, but I'm married, and I'm acting the fool." An utter fool. He refastened his belt and buttoned his shirt, wadding up his jacket under his arm.

The second one said, "It's not like married men stop enjoying other women."

"This one will."

They sighed, and the first said, "Your wife's very lucky to have you."

"Other way around," he assured them before striding from the room to stomp down the stairs.

Ethan was a man accustomed to feeling strongly, yet he had never feltanything like the growing frenzy that seized him at the thought of Maddy leaving him. Ah, God, he was in a bad way. He wanted the love of one woman, craved it, coveted it. Likely about to lose it.

Tumbling a pair of tavern trollops. Bloody brilliant, Ethan. What the hell were you thinking?

What time was it?Three thirty . The coach arrived at five. If he rode hard, he'd make it back to Carillon in time. But if he went back to her empty-handed, with only tired promises, she still might go. He could ride for the village's registrar office to try for a special license, but he would risk missing her.