Page 14 of Wretched Heart
As Maddie jiggles towards the toilet, I begin gathering up the layers of her dress. Now that the panic is over, I’m starting to realize this isn’t such a bad situation. I crouch down and as my face becomes lost in folds of fabric, I eventually find her legs. I can’t see what I’m doing as my hands snake upwards to the lace top of her stockings. I swallow a groan.
My jaw tightens as my fingers explore higher. Where I’d normally delve between a woman’s thighs, I force myhands to Maddie’s hips and find the string of what I presume is a thong. Once I’ve pulled it down, I guide Maddie so she can sit down on the toilet. And then I do the gentlemanly thing. I reemerge from beneath her dress and back away.
As I sit back on the tiled floor, Maddie buries her head in the cloud of silk. There’s a groan of relief above the tinkling she doesn’t want me to hear.
I’m smiling when I say, “Do you want me to wipe when you’re done?
Maddie lifts her head to shoot me a look. “Fuck off!”
“I’m the one who’s just saved you from wetting yourself. A thank you would be nice.”
The blushing bride disappears as she face-plants onto her dress again. “Thank you. Now leave me to my misery.”
Deciding to give her some privacy, as well as needing to make some room for my raging hard-on, I return to the bedroom. I count two bottles of champagne, one of which is empty and the other is going flat. There’s also the bottle she shared with Reid that I’d had to confiscate from him. “How much champagne did you ply Reid with?” I call out.
“Why? Are you going to shout at him?”
“Too late, already done that,” I say. “Now I’m just working out exactly how drunk you are.”
I’m actually hoping Maddie’s had so much that she won’t remember any of this in the morning. I don’t want to add to her misery.
“Maddie?” I call out, but she doesn’t answer.
When I slip back into the bathroom, she hasn’t moved. I can hear snoring.
I crouch down in front of her and go to sweep her hair back from her face, but her locks make an unnatural crunching sound so I leave it the hell alone. Myfingers trail a path across her shoulder instead, and down her back to the fastenings on her bodice. There’s a tear in the fabric where she’d been trying to untie the cords, and a stain that looks like blood. I don’t even want to think about what drunken Maddie was trying to do.
I make an executive decision and pull up the leg of my sweatpants to grab the knife strapped to my ankle. When I slice through the cord crisscrossing the bodice of Maddie’s wedding dress, I can’t deny how good it feels knowing Barrett didn’t get to undress her.
There’s a mumble. “What are you doing?”
I hold the knife a safe distance away from Maddie’s back in case she reacts badly. “I’m taking your dress off.”
“Good,” she sighs.
As the bodice begins to unravel, I pull it open to check the cut in her back. It’s a small nick that’s already healing, and the blood stains on the inside of the dress are mixed with what looks like fake tan marks. She certainly pulled out all the stops for her intended.
“If I had my way, I’d cut this fucking monstrosity into shreds,” I mutter.
“I’d help you,” Maddie answers, still talking into the folds of her dress. “I’m such a mess.” When I don’t answer fast enough, she lifts her head. “You think I’m a mess too?”
I brush my thumb under one of her mascara-streaked eyes. “You have very striking panda eyes and your hair would make the perfect nest for a flock of birds. But truthfully?” I ask. Should I be truthful? Apparently so because my jaw keeps working. “You’re so damn beautiful, little bird.”
“No, I’m not.”
Before she can drop her head again, I take hold of her chin to keep her eyes on me. “If you knew me better, you’dknow it’s not a good idea to disagree with me. If I say you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful.”
Maddie’s gaze is raw and penetrating. It provokes such an intense feeling in my chest that I think I need to break the connection first, but then her attention is drawn to my arm. She pulls her chin from my grip for a better look. “You do have tattoos.”
Her fingers trace the sharp edges of a Celtic design and I swallow a groan. Her touch is almost too good to resist, but I manage to pull myself away and stand. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll hang around in the bedroom? When you’re ready, you can tell me what else you need.”
Maddie makes a harrumph sound, an acknowledgement that she needs a lot more than a shower and a good night’s sleep. Her life is imploding, something I’m only just discovering.
The news that Barrett was engaged only reached us two weeks ago, and it’s looking like we made too many assumptions based on too little research. It seemed like such a simple puzzle. The Corbyn’s paper mill was in trouble, and Barrett was going in for the kill. It was only after witnessing Hugo’s bizarre reaction in the chapel that I set Mace to work digging up the Corbyn’s family secrets.
If the situation is as bad as it looks, I can understand why Maddie was so desperate to fall for Barrett’s lies. For now, all I can do is give her some space, and what’s left of her self-respect.
“I’ve undone enough of your dress for you to get out of it,” I tell her. “I’ll leave you in peace.”
