“Of course, I was.” She yanked, but he didn’t seem to notice her attempt to free her hands. “Just as you were there to ensure they did not.”
“I, too, came to save them.” He shook his head. “Why will you not believe me?”
“Because Miss White is Madam Dequenne.” Madelina couldn’t stop the words. Not with betrayal and guilt swirling like a poisoned draught in her gut. How had she let that woman get away? Madelina pulled against his grip again, harder.
Mister Mclintock pinned her palms to his chest. The scents of cedar and cloves slipped about her. “That is impossible. You must be mistaken. You’ve seen Clementine what, once? From across a ballroom?”
So, his mistress hadn’t mentioned Little Hook’s visit to The Black Aspen. “I’m not mistaken, and if she is Madam Dequenne, then you are a villain, too.” Her voice caught oddly on the accusation. She swallowed.
“I am not a villain.” He lowered his voice. “How can I prove it to you?”
She read his intention in the heat of his gaze. He held her hands against his chest, but she could turn, pull away. Instead, she tipped her face up to receive his kiss.
His lips questioned, but hers did not. Anger, confusion, and a desire so deep it sparked fear, all drove her kiss. His mouth stilled.
Shame shot through her. He’d meant something sweet, reassuring. She’d practically attacked him with her mouth.
He released her hands and wrapped his arms about her. Although she stood nearly as tall as him, he swept her from her feet, crushed her to him. Kissed her with a passion to rival her own.
When he finally released her lips, her head tipped back. His mouth blazed a trail down her neck. The room seemed to spin. The red walls. The dark trim. The open door.
Madelina’s head snapped up. She unwound hands she didn’t know she’d buried in his curls. “Mister Mclintock.” Her voice came out low and rough. “We have to stop.”
His lips found hers again. A delicious weakness spread through her. She struggled to remember why she ever wanted him to stop.
This wasn’t real. He didn’t love her. He lied. He bought and sold women. She got her hands between them and shoved. Hard.
He lifted his head. His amber eyes glowed from within, like tinted lanterns brought back from the east. “Madelina?”
The entreaty in his voice, the longing, tugged at her. Her breath quickened. She shook her head. “Release me.”
He blinked, then looked down. Expression bemused, he set her feet on the floor. “I apologize. I…got carried away.”
She took a step back, out of the circle of his arms.
“Do not think I meant to take advantage of you,” he said. “I do not. I wish to marry you.”
The room tipped. Her hand shot out but found nothing to support her.
His gripped her shoulders, braced her. A smile tugged his lips. “Even though you stabbed me.”
Stabbed him? Yes, she had. Because… “I cannot marry you. How can you think I would?”
His arms fell to his sides. The light left his eyes. “Because I’m a bastard?” he asked, voice harsh.
“Because you are working with Miss White, and because I know, I am completely certain, that she buys and sells young women. She is Madam Dequenne.”
“That is ridiculous,” he snapped.
“Is it?”
His gaze narrowed. “Is this some sort of jealousy? I told you, I work with Clementine. Moreover, she has been my friend and confidant for years. I swear to you, she is no longer my lover, will never be my lover ever again, but I cannot betray years of friendship.”
“Jealousy?” A high, screeching note Madelina didn’t recognize rang through her voice. “I am not jealous. I am disgusted.”
He stared at her, expression stunned. “I disgust you?”
She thrust her shoulders back. “You do, and you will continue to do so for so long as you associate with that woman.”
