The Parchment Scroll (7 page)

“Oh aye? On tha contrary, I’d verra much like ta know.” He took a step forward and reached for her, but Jules slid back, extending her arm.

“I’ll kick you in the balls, for starters.”

Hugh threw his head back and laughed. “Nay, lass. You wouldna.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Try me.”

“I plan ta
try
ye, as ye say.”

“The hell you will. You won’t get very far, except for a sore dick. Just leave me alone.”

He shook his head, amusement darting all over his expression. He was genuinely delighted with her threats. Hugh looked carefree and hot as hell.

Jules pinned her fists to her sides so she wouldn’t punch the look off his face.

He chuckled and grabbed her wrist. “The things ye say, lass.”

She glared at the twinkle in his eyes.

He’d shaved—there was no stubble on his cheeks, and she wanted to drag her fingers against his skin.

Dammit.

Just stop it.

“Let me go,” Jules ordered.

“I’ll have ye in my bed.”

She shook her head, but Hugh wrapped his arms around her and picked her up. Instead of tossing her over his shoulder, he held her like a baby against his hard chest and carried her to that oversized bed. His eyes bored into hers.

Fear chased away her ire. “Hugh.” She wanted to demand he release her, but the words wouldn’t form. He was bigger and stronger, as he’d proven all day long.

What if he wants to rape me?

“Juliette.” His voice was a whisper and he set her down with surprising gentleness.

Jules scrambled to the headboard and hugged her knees to her chest.

Hugh paused, arching an eyebrow. “I willna hurt ye.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you,” she blurted.

He cocked his head to one side. “Ye want me, lass.”

“No.” Jules’ denial was too quick—and they both knew it.

His shoulders loosened and he joined her on the bed. Hugh moved toward her, and Jules’ pulse thundered in her ears.

She didn’t look away from his eyes. She couldn’t.

Hugh cupped her cheeks. “I wouldna force ye, Juliette. Never tha’.”

“Thank you,” Jules whispered. Her heart pounded as his hands fell away from her face. She slowly unfolded her body and lay down, but she couldn’t relax.

Waited for Hugh to do or say something.

Anything.

Her barbarian extended his big body in the bed, pulling the blankets higher, covering them both. One corner of his mouth shot up. “Ye want me, lass. No matter wha’ yer sayin’ now.”

Jules’ stomach fluttered but she didn’t dare answer. She might agree. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Like you promised.”

Hugh grinned and dragged his hand down her arm.

She trembled, even though he hadn’t touched bare skin. “I
am
going, Hugh.”

“I’m a man of my word, lass. I’ll see ye ta Dunvegan. But, when tha time is righ’, ye’ll return ta me. And there willna be a need ta force ye. Ye’ll come ta my bed willin’. I’ll have ye, Juliette.”

Jules gulped at the promise in his eyes, in his voice. She stared as he turned over, settling his head deep into a thick pillow, his dark hair fanned out.

She didn’t move as she watched him.

Soon, Hugh’s breathing became deep and even, but Jules couldn’t loosen her body or concentrate on much-needed sleep. She was tense, gripping the MacDonald plaid with both hands as she tugged it to her chin.

Crushing her eyes shut, all she could see, remember…
feel
was his mouth moving over hers.

Jules cursed and sucked in a breath.

It’s gonna be a long night.

When he rolled over, he remembered he wasn’t in bed alone. Hugh swallowed a yawn as he came around and blinked to clear his vision. The room was dim, but not wholly dark and he could see a sea of honey waves spread on his pillow.

Her face was turned toward his as she slept, and he restrained himself from touching her.

Hugh didn’t want to let her go.

He’d promised his aunt he wouldn’t ransom her, but could he keep Juliette some other way?

She’d kissed him back when he’d stormed into his rooms after his bath in the stables. But the fear in her eyes had given him pause. She’d actually thought he’d rape her.

Hugh growled.

He’d never forced himself on a lass, no matter how many lovers he’d taken since—

Still
couldn’t say her name. His eyes instinctively avoided the blasted painting that hung in the corner by the fireplace. Every time he’d taken it down, someone—probably his Aunt Mab—had returned it to the spot it’d been in since he’d gotten married eleven years before.

As if he needed assistance with his guilt.

Juliette stirring washed the dismal memories from his head—thank Jesus.

She moaned as she stretched, arching her back, and Hugh stilled, unable to rip his gaze away. She was temptation alive and he fought a shudder and the heat that settled in his groin.

“Lass, ye—”

Her beautiful green eyes flew open and she froze. “Oh my God.”

Hugh quirked an eyebrow.

She shook her head. “Dammit.”

“Somethin’ wrong?” He propped himself on one elbow, looking down at her and restrained himself from doing more than
looking.

Juliette’s cheeks were flushed pink, and her body was sleep-warmed. Hugh wanted to reach for her. Touch her.

Then take her.

“Everything is wrong. I
am
here. It wasn’t some horrible nightmare.” She snorted and sat up, scooting away from him. “Odd, that I’d wish for a nightmare, but I’d rather have night terrors than be here.”

Hugh frowned and stroked her cheek, he couldn’t help it. “Am I so bad?”

She leaned away, her familiar glare back in place. “Yes.”

He didn’t know whether to admire her resolve or let the insult inching up from his gut take over. “Weeeel, I am glad ta wake and find ye in my bed.”

Juliette narrowed her eyes. “I told you I wouldn’t run away. You just have to come through with your end of the bargain.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

She studied him, saying nothing. The golden waves of her hair kissed her shoulders, disheveled from sleep.

His fingers itched to smooth them, and taste her lush lips again. Perhaps she’d even kiss him back like last night.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Juliette snapped.

Hugh startled, forcing a breath and reclining into his carved headboard. The bite of wood at his shoulders was refreshing. His cock twitched and he was glad for the blankets still covering him.

Aye, I am insulted.

No lass he’d ever pursued had refused his advances.

Was that why he was so intrigued with this one?

He pushed off the wood behind him and shot to his knees, leaning toward Juliette. Intentionally towering over her. Hugh blocked her in, resting his palms against the headboard.

Instead of the fear he’d seen in that emerald gaze the night before, anger darted across her countenance. “Get away from me.”

“Nay.” Hugh grinned. “Before I take ye to yer sister, ye will admit you wan’ me.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Ye doona’ want me, or ye willna admit it?”

“I hate to break it to ya, dude. You’re far from God’s gift to women.”

Her phrasing was odd, and he had no idea what
dude
meant, but the rest of her statement was clear. Hugh threw his head back and laughed. He’d assure her he’d never had complaints, but it would only rouse more ire. He liked her feisty, but he was enjoying her company. Wanted to talk to her more.

Juliette shoved him backwards, both palms to his chest. She scooted from his bed before he could react, but Hugh threw his palms flat behind him and avoided falling on his arse—barely.

“Get out of here so I can get dressed.” His foundling perched both hands on her shapely hips, but the sleeping gown still hid too much of her form.

Not that Hugh had any trouble remembering her naked on the beach. More heat shot to his groin and he swallowed. He slid his legs over the side of his bed and stood, then stalked to her. “Nay.
I
am the laird, and these are
my
rooms. Ye willna put me ou’.”

She frowned. “Fine. At least turn around.”

“Why?” Hugh smiled.

Juliette huffed and turned away, grabbing a tunic—not a more feminine leine—Mab must’ve left for her. Instead of skirts, there was a pair of folded trews beneath them.

Why would his aunt get her lad’s clothing?

There were skirts and gowns in the stores, surely.

He stayed close, restraining himself from wrapping his arms around her; Hugh contented himself by brushing her hair from her shoulder. He leaned down, kissing the skin below her ear he’d exposed, and cursing the high neckline of the chemise she wore.

She shivered. He saw it. Juliette couldn’t hide it from him. She didn’t move away, either.

“I’m waitin’, lass.”

Juliette whirled on him. He didn’t miss her white knuckled grip on the saffron tunic. “You’re gonna be
waitin’
a long time. I. Don’t. Want
. You
.”

Undeterred, Hugh stepped forward and dragged two fingers down her cheek. “Yer no’ bein’ honest, Juliette.”

She swallowed and he wanted to kiss her throat. “I am.” But her words shook. “Just let me get dressed and I’ll leave. Be out of your hair. You won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“I’m thinkin’ I’ll keep ye.” Hugh reached for her chemise, undoing the top two buttons on the neck.

“No.” Juliette flashed him a black look and batted his hands away. “You promised.”

“Ye didna let me finish.” He let her shove him away and straightened, swallowing a smile because it would make her even angrier.

“What?” She arched a fair eyebrow, her expression shouting distrust.

“Stay wit’ me one more day.”

“Why?” Juliette cocked her head to one side.

“I want ye, lass.”

“One day isn’t going to make me fall into your bed with my legs open.”

Hugh chuckled and reached for her. She wasn’t quick enough to evade him, and he plastered her to his chest. He inhaled her sweetness instead of kissing her like he wanted to. Juliette smelled like the floral soap women of his clan always bathed with. Making it was his aunt’s specialty.

“Let me go, Hugh.” Her voice was whisper, not demand. She trembled against him, the saffron tunic an unfortunate obstacle to feeling her breasts against his chest. The thick fabric, along with Juliette’s hands, were pinned against him.

“Nay.”

They stared at each other and silence fell.

“I willna hurt ye,” he said finally.

“I know.” Juliette swallowed again, but her voice was steady.

She believes me.

Hugh ignored how his stomach flipped. “Stay another day.”

“Is that an order?”

“Aye.”

Juliette frowned. “For the record, I won’t sleep with you.”

“Ye did sleep wit’ me.” Hugh smiled.

She pursed her lips. “You know what I mean. I won’t have sex with you, Hugh MacDonald. I mean it. We just met, and I don’t do that sorta thing.”

“Are ye innocent then?”

“You mean, am I a virgin?”

Hugh nodded.

“No, not for a long time.”

“Are ye wed?” His gut clenched as he awaited her answer, but he banished that foolishness.

“I was once.” Juliette gazed up at him. He couldn’t read her expression, or the emotions that darted across those eyes.

“I am sorry fer yer loss, then.”

She shook her head, her golden locks shifting with the movement. “He didn’t die. He cheated. I caught him in bed with another woman, so I left. We divorced. You know that term?”

Hugh nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis no’ somethin’ oft done, but I know of it.”

“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. I moved on.” She averted her gaze.

Hugh wanted to tilt her chin up to force her to meet his eyes, but he didn’t. If Juliette was having a moment of pain, she needed to move past it on her own. Wasn’t any of his concern, really. “I was wed once, as well.” He cursed the dose of honesty that fell from his mouth.

Why did you say that?

Her eyes were wide when she looked back up at him. “What happened?” Her question was innocent and held no malice, but it was Hugh’s turn to avert his gaze.

He released her so fast she stumbled, but he couldn’t reach to steady her.

Juliette frowned—he could see it in his peripheral vision, but the painting in the corner was suddenly glaring.

It took all his attention, even though he didn’t dare look at it.

“Hugh?”

“She died.” He didn’t mean to bark the words, but he did.

“I’m sorry.”

He needed to go. Couldn’t bear to see pity in her eyes. He couldn’t spare her a glance to see if she was sincere. Anger roiled over him and he made tight fists at his sides.

Hugh couldn’t muster a response, nor did he give in to the urge to close his eyes. His chest was tight, breathing painful. He strode from the room and slammed the door as soon as both feet were in the corridor.

Jules blinked. She stared at the closed door and her head spun. “What the hell just happened?” She looked down at the yellow shirt in her hands and had to take one—then another—breath to clear her head.

Her barbarian had gone from fire to ice in about two seconds. He’d almost dropped her on her ass, too.

“Bipolar much?”

Not that she’d wanted him panting over her, anyway. Or trying to kiss her again. Which he hadn’t—thank God.

Well except for the ones he’d planted on her neck that’d made her shiver.

Until he’d gone stiff as a board and cold. Harsh. Yanking away from her as if she’d stung him.

What gives?

Hugh had been the one to start the twenty-question interrogation. She tried to shrug, but it bothered her more than she’d like to admit that he had feelings for another woman.

A dead woman.

I mean, he wouldn’t have reacted that way if he didn’t love her, right?

Jules sighed and slipped out of the chemise, shivering in the morning chill. There was no fire lit in the sizable hearth.