Unraveled By The Rebel (2 page)

Her hands moved up to his shoulders, and in a moment, she was in his arms again.

This is wrong. Move away,
her conscience ordered.

He’s your closest friend,
her heart argued back. Paul needed her, and she felt his pain as if it were her own. If her father had died in such a way, she couldn’t imagine the emptiness inside.

“You can’t stay in Scotland,” she whispered, resting her cheek against his. “It’s too dangerous.” The scent of his skin reminded her of the wild pine that grew in the Highlands. She inhaled it, trying to make a memory of him.

“I want nothing to happen to you,” she insisted. “Promise me that you’ll do as your mother bade you and be safe.”

“I want justice.” He cut her off, closing his eyes. “How can I go to Edinburgh and turn my back on what Lord Strathland did to my father?”

“When you return, perhaps things will change.” Juliette touched his cheek, and his hands moved to her waist, absently stroking her spine. A ripple of aching warmth flooded through her, and she shied away from the feelings she wasn’t ready to face.

His gaze grew distant, and he shook his head. “The earl should suffer the same fate as my father.”

Juliette said nothing, knowing he was speaking words born of suffering and fear. “Let it go, Paul,” she murmured. “Lord Strathland is too powerful to fight against.”

When he gave no reply, she sensed that if he stayed here, he would do something rash. She didn’t doubt that was another reason why his mother was sending him away. “Please,” she repeated. “For me.”

“For now,” he acceded. “But his time will come.” From the dark look on his face, she saw the promise of vengeance. “Someone has to hold Strathland to blame for the way he treats the clansmen. He’s earned his riches from their blood.”

“It doesn’t have to be you.” She wrapped a handkerchief around his knuckles, raising her eyes to his. “Not now, anyway.”

His midnight-blue eyes locked on to hers. “I won’t forget, Juliette.”

“I hope you don’t,” she said. “Not everything, anyway.” A nervous energy rose up in her stomach from the way he was looking at her now. She let go of his hand, not knowing what to say to him.

His gaze centered on her face. “Some things canna be forgotten.”

When his palm touched her cheek, she went utterly still. The look in his eyes was of a haunted man, one who saw her as far more than a friend. Although they were both too young, there was an undeniable bond with Paul Fraser. She couldn’t say what it was, but in his eyes, she glimpsed a pathway leading toward a forbidden life.

“Could I kiss you before I go?” he murmured.

Blood rushed to her face, for she’d never been kissed before. He flustered her, and she didn’t know what to say. But he took her silence for acquiescence. His mouth poised over hers, and at the touch of his lips, a thread of innocence bound them together. It was the barest whisper of a kiss, only a slight pressure upon her lips.

And yet, it held an unspoken promise. She’d never known that this sort of temptation existed, and without understanding it, she kissed him back. Warnings poured through her as his mouth
moved upon hers, the heat awakening a rush of sensation. When his hands moved down her back, she felt a thrill of anticipation. Of wanting him, needing more.

Both of them gave in to the desire, the kiss opening, his tongue sliding within her mouth. She accepted him, her breath seizing in her lungs as she realized that there had always been more than friendship between them.

Juliette clung to him, even knowing that this was wrong. Paul Fraser was a secret desire she could never, ever fulfill.

“I’ll write to you,” he said against her mouth.

She could hardly catch her breath, for her mind was spinning with the certainty of broken dreams. In her heart, she was afraid she would never see him again.

S
COTLAND,
1811

H
e’d been waiting two years to see her again.

Dr. Paul Fraser held back from the other wedding guests, searching for a glimpse of the young woman who had haunted him since the day he’d left Ballaloch. Although he’d come back a few times in the past five years, Juliette had been gone during his most recent visits. The last time he’d seen her, he’d asked Juliette to marry him… and since that day, all of her letters had stopped. Without a single word of explanation.

He wanted to believe that something had happened to the letters. That she’d never received the dozens of notes he’d sent, and that one conversation would solve the misunderstanding. But a heaviness centered within him as he suspected that it was no misunderstanding at all. She’d made her choice, and it wasn’t him.

He wouldn’t beg for answers. But neither would he let her disappear among the crowd of guests at her sister’s wedding. After all this time, he wanted to look into her eyes and see the truth—no matter how bitter it might be.

The bride and groom stood at the top of the staircase, while the unmarried women gathered below. Paul stood among the men, but his attention was fixed upon Juliette. She had her back to him, but she had grown taller, her waist slim. He yearned to see her face and the green eyes that had held him spellbound all these years.

The voice of reason told him to leave her be and let go of the past. But his stubborn heart wouldn’t relent. Not yet.

The bride tossed her ice-blue silk bonnet over the railing, and it landed in Juliette’s arms. She stared at the bonnet as if it were a poisonous snake, and the cheers from the wedding guests were deafening.

“You’ll be the next to marry!” The housekeeper beamed. “Isn’t that wonderful, lass?”

But Juliette did not appear pleased at all. Instead, her face had gone white, as if she’d been chosen for her own execution.

Before Paul realized what was happening, the bridegroom had tossed his hat over the top of the railing. It was about to fall into the hands of one of his kinsmen, and Paul seized it before the man could lay claim to it.

He knew what the token meant, and this was a means of speaking with her, of finally learning why she was refusing to see him. But as he moved through the crowd of people, he stopped before her and saw more than he’d expected.

The young woman standing before him was no longer the same Juliette he’d known. Paul could see it in the way she stared off into the distance, her mind distracted. To a stranger, she might appear like any other woman… calm and composed.

And yet… he saw through her façade. Her brown hair, once gleaming with gold strands, was now dull and matted, as if she hadn’t bothered to do more than pin it up. She was an enigma to him, with her sad green eyes. She’d grown into a slender lady, but there were hollows in her cheeks and shadows beneath her eyes. Almost as if she’d stopped eating.

Juliette shoved the bonnet into her younger sister Amelia’s hands and started for the door. It was as if she couldn’t bear the thought of being paired with him.

Pride made him hold his ground while she fled. It was clear that she wanted nothing to do with him, and that was the answer he’d expected. Even so, it wasn’t like her to run. The young
woman he’d known would have blushed and laughed at the good-natured teasing. She wouldn’t have fled.

It wasn’t safe for her to be outside alone. And while she might not want his company, he intended to ensure that she was all right.

One of his friends, Rory MacKinloch, caught his arm. “She’s a bonny lass, but with a tender heart, lad. Mind yourself.” Rory tightened his grip, as if he considered himself Juliette’s adopted big brother.

Paul shrugged the man’s hand away. “I’ve known her e’er since the day she set foot in Scotland.” And he’d easily wager that he knew her better than anyone. She’d opened up her heart to him in dozens of letters.

A knowing smile spread over Rory’s face. “She doesna seem to be wanting your attentions, lad. You might set your sights on another.”

“She’s the one for me. Always has been.” He crossed through the crowd of wedding guests, knowing Juliette had slipped away outside. When he reached the front door, he opened it and saw that the clouded sky held the promise of snow. The late January weather had been harsh, the bitter cold making it even more difficult for the crofters.

Juliette had grasped her skirts and was running toward the barn. As he followed her, his gaze passed over the rows of tents housing the refugee crofters. The tents were set up amid the snow, while several outdoor hearth fires had dwindled to ashes.

The crofters had been forced off the land when the Earl of Strathland had refused to renew their leases this past fall—his mother among them. If it weren’t for the Duke of Worthingstone, who had agreed to let all of the crofters rebuild their homes on his land, Paul would have brought his mother back to Edinburgh. As it was, Bridget had insisted on remaining among the others, no matter how dismal the living conditions were. She was their only midwife and was stubborn enough to endure the freezing nights.

Others had refused to be displaced. When some of the crofters had tried to return to their homes in secret, Lord Strathland’s factor, Mr. Melford, had ordered their homes set on fire.

Sometimes with the crofters still inside.

Paul’s jaw tightened at the memory. He’d treated countless burn victims, fighting to save their lives. It only strengthened his need for vengeance against the earl. Not only because of what had happened to his own family, but for all the others as well.

He stopped before the barn, resting his hand against the wooden doorframe. Instinct warned him to leave Juliette alone, but the need to protect her was stronger.

He
was here.

Juliette Andrews’s heart was beating so fast, she could hardly breathe. The past few years had transformed Dr. Paul Fraser into a fiercely handsome man. His dark hair had a hint of curl to it, and those midnight-blue eyes had turned her knees to uncooked custard. After she’d caught her sister’s bonnet, he’d reached for the groom’s hat.

Any other woman would have been thrilled that he’d been the one to grasp it, instead of another man. Juliette, on the other hand, was filled with panic. This tall, devastatingly handsome man was not going to listen to her reasons why she intended to remain a spinster for the rest of her life. From the moment Paul had returned to Scotland, she’d been well aware of his pursuit, despite her attempts to avoid him. He wanted answers, and she had no intention of revealing anything to him.

She tried to find her calm, sensible side. It was natural that he should want to speak with her after all this time. They’d been friends, after all.

But he wanted more.

And more wasn’t something she could give.

Juliette went to stand by one of the stalls, reciting the multiplication tables in order to calm her disordered mind. If only she could sort her life into neatly ordered columns that added up correctly.

Her brain reminded her that she owed him no explanations at all. Feelings altered, especially when time and distance were involved.

Yes, that would do. She willed the ice around her heart to harden, reminding herself that she could not allow herself to weaken around Paul Fraser. The desires of a young girl had no place in her life now.

Numbers, ink, and paper were her dearest companions now. She would grow old, her fingers stained with the written numbers that accounted for her family’s earnings. Her heart was frozen over so that she would never feel the broken edges that remained.

Juliette took comfort from the decisions she’d made. She would not dwell upon the nightmares of the past or the mistakes. Nor would she allow one sinfully handsome Highlander to unravel all of her carefully laid plans.

Her heart had already been broken. And so help her God, she would hold fast to her secrets so that he would turn away from her and find a woman worthy of his love.

For it could never, ever be her.

Paul fingered the hat in his hands and set it down outside the barn door. Juliette had retreated farther inside, her hands resting against one of the stalls as if to steady her thoughts. Though he didn’t speak a word to her, she glanced up when he entered.

“You followed me.” Her expression held traces of resignation. “I was afraid you would.”