Unraveled By The Rebel (22 page)

A shiver of shocking need penetrated her, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Though he didn’t touch, the proximity of his hand drove her imagination wild.

“I’d touch you intimately, bathing my fingers in your wetness. Until it brought you to the edge.”

His hand gripped her thigh, and it was impossible to breathe. She was fighting herself, not understanding the rush of feelings.

“Paul,” she pleaded, not even knowing what it was she wanted. He seemed to understand, and in one swift motion, he took his hand out from under her skirts and began kissing her hard. She met the thrust of his tongue with her own, and the pressure of
his thigh between her legs grew hotter. She moved against him, not knowing what—

“Let go, Juliette,” he demanded, and with his words, he moved his leg against her. The flash of release caught her so hard, she couldn’t stifle the moan that ripped free. He covered it with another kiss, and she shuddered hard as heat and a soaring tremble wracked her body. It was shattering, to the point where she lost sight of everything.

Paul looked well pleased with himself. Pressing a kiss against her temple, he murmured, “I’m taking you home now. And you’ll dream of us.”

“Don’t shoot!”

The sound of her husband shouting in the middle of the night drew Beatrice out of her own bed. She threw open the door to Henry’s room and found him thrashing in the covers, as if fighting an invisible foe.

“Henry, shh,” she soothed, coming to his side. “It’s all right. There’s no one here.”

His green eyes opened, but for a moment, he seemed unaware that he was no longer on a battlefield. She lit an oil lamp, and the soft light illuminated his haggard face. “I’m sorry I woke you, Beatrice.” His voice held a hint of embarrassment, though it was not the first time the nightmares had plagued him. She’d continued to sleep away from him, claiming that it was for his own comfort.

The truth was, she’d been alone for so many years, the idea of a man sharing her bed again was… strange. Back when they were first married, they had often slept together. Henry would awaken in the early morning, reaching for her in the hopes of making love.

But in the past three years, she’d slept alone. She couldn’t even remember the last time Henry had touched her. And although he likely expected her to share his bed again, she hardly knew the man sitting before her.

His hair was shot with gray, his eyes searching hers. A stubble of beard grew against his cheeks, and he reached out with his left hand, taking her palm in his.

“Would you… stay a moment?” he asked. He lay back against the pillow, patting the space beside him. She grew aware that she was wearing only a sheer nightdress, and her body had grown so wretchedly thin. Gone were the curves she’d once had.

“I’ll only disturb your sleep if I stay,” she said, afraid of what would happen if she dared to stay at his side.

“You don’t want to be near me now, do you?” he said.

“No, that’s not it at all,” she lied. “It’s just that you’ll sleep better alone.” Being near him right now made her pulse quicken, for this man was nothing like the awkward, shy officer she’d wed as a young lady. This man had known her intimately and had shared her bed for nearly twenty years before he’d left for war. But he was a stranger to her now. There were new furrows at the edges of his eyes, etched there as if marking the strain from the sight of too many horrors. To sleep beside him was akin to ignoring the years of distance and the years of feeling abandoned by him. She couldn’t simply pretend it hadn’t happened, returning to her place as the faithful, loving wife. They didn’t know each other anymore.

“I slept alone many times during the fighting,” he said. “Enough for a lifetime.” He let out a slow breath. “But if you’d rather not be near me…”

Guilt assailed her, for he’d asked only that she lie beside him. Nothing more than that. Beatrice turned down the lamp and returned to his bed. She lay down on the left side of the bed, remaining outside the coverlet. Beside her, she could hear the
sound of his steady breathing. But more, the covers were warm from the heat of his body.

A sudden resonance echoed within her, of the years past when they had been lovers. Now, she was a dried-up old woman, past forty. Hardly worthy of a husband’s attention.

“How is your arm?” she asked, trying to keep her mind off their sleeping arrangement. He had taken off the cast a few weeks earlier, but she’d never asked whether he’d regained full use of his arm.

“It’s healed.” He lay back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling. “I hope to be able to help with the rebuilding efforts, before the men have finished.”

“What about the army?” she ventured. “Will you go back?”

Will you leave me alone again, to fend for myself? Will the girls be fatherless once more?

There was a heavy silence for a time, before he answered, “No. The general didn’t think I should have stayed as long as I did, after I inherited my brother’s title. They told me I was better suited to handling the estates and my own affairs.” He turned his head to face her. “They think I’m too old now.”

“Perhaps we both are,” she whispered.

His left hand reached out to take hers, and their fingers intertwined. “Our girls are grown now. Soon, we’ll have grandchildren.”

“We will, yes.” She rolled over to face him. “I’m happy for Victoria. But I still worry about Margaret and Juliette. Margaret is getting so old now, they consider her on the shelf at one-and-twenty.”

“They will find husbands, I am certain. But it won’t be the Earl of Strathland—that, I assure you.”

She was grateful for it. “I still believe he was responsible for the fire and Victoria’s kidnapping. Even though he claims otherwise…” She shook her head, wishing that the man would simply disappear from their lives. Although he claimed that he was
uninvolved with either incident, she didn’t for a moment believe that the earl was innocent. “I want Lord Strathland to stay far away from us,” Beatrice finished.

“He will. And if I ever find proof that he was guilty of hurting Victoria or arranging for the fire, he’ll pay the price for it.” Her husband squeezed her hand in silent promise.

“I pray that you’re right.”

“J
uliette, I must speak with you privately,” Charlotte said.

Juliette set down her pen, after scribbling the last set of numbers. Aphrodite’s Unmentionables was earning a strong profit, and she was well pleased with their business. Her sister Amelia was seated across from her, studying a set of sensual designs that Victoria had suggested in her last letter. The moment their aunt stepped closer, Amelia hastily covered the sketches.

“Is everything all right, Aunt?” her sister inquired.

Charlotte nodded. “It’s nothing to concern you, but I must speak to your sister. Come into my sitting room, Juliette, if you please.” Without offering any further explanation, her aunt retreated from the room.

“What do you suppose she wants?” Amelia whispered. “Is it about Dr. Fraser?”

“I don’t know.” The mention of Paul made her blush. The forbidden touches they’d shared at the
cèilidh
had haunted her all night. She’d never known that there could be joy at the hands of a man, or such blissful satisfaction.

“Well, what else could it be?” her sister demanded. With a look of alarm, she whispered, “It’s not about Aphrodite’s Unmentionables, is it?”

“I doubt it.” Her greatest fear was that it concerned Matthew. If it were only about Paul, Aunt Charlotte might have divulged her concerns in front of Amelia.

Though Juliette tried to calm her thoughts, she couldn’t stop herself from worrying. She stood and steeled herself for whatever lay ahead. “I’ll be back soon.”

“And then you can tell me everything,” Amelia said, with a gleam in her eyes.

Juliette made no promises, but she walked past the nursery beforehand, wanting to ensure that her son was all right. As she passed his room, she overheard the unmistakable sounds of Matthew laughing with his nurse. She stopped a moment, drinking in the sight of his light brown hair and plump cheeks. He was holding on to the edge of a low table, struggling with baby steps to move farther across the room.

Juliette couldn’t resist smiling at the sight of him, wishing she could take a moment and swing him into an embrace. She supposed that there could be nothing else to be concerned about. But when she entered her aunt’s sitting room, she was startled to find her uncle waiting there as well.

The earl held out a folded piece of paper. “I’ve had a letter from Dr. Paul Fraser, asking to pay a call upon me. I understand that he’s been spending a great deal of time with you, and I suspect he intends to ask for your hand in marriage.”

He already has,
Juliette thought, but didn’t say it.

“I have not made any decisions,” she said honestly. “And if he’s asked to pay a call upon you, it could be about anything.”

“I cannot lend my support to this,” Lord Arnsbury said with a sigh, ignoring her reaction. “You and I both know your parents hoped for a better match.”

She wasn’t surprised at his refusal, for her uncle viewed men by their rank. “We also know that I am unsuitable for a better match.
If
I marry, it will be to a man of my choice, regardless of whether he has a title.”

“Your parents will refuse their permission.”

“And that does not matter, if I wed in Scotland,” she reminded them. Her shoulders tensed, and she stared at each of them. “I’ve earned the right to choose. And whether I wed a prince or a peddler is none of your concern.” Her eyes glimmered, but she shut
down the tears. “I paid the price, and I won’t be sacrificed on the marital altar simply to please my family.”

Charlotte exchanged a glance with her husband. “Be that as it may… I don’t like the fact that he’s lied about being a Scottish viscount’s heir. I haven’t exposed his story, for your sake,” she added, “though I should have put a stop to it sooner.”

“If you don’t, then I will,” Lord Arnsbury insisted. His mouth pursed in a tight line. “Juliette, you are like a daughter to us.”

“I appreciate your concern,” she said slowly. “But you should know… Paul is the only man I would consider marrying.” He’d proven that she could trust him, even in the face of desire.

“I don’t approve of him at all,” her uncle said. “You can do better than a common physician.”

“Dr. Fraser is far more than that,” she argued. “He’s a good man who loves me and always has, ever since I met him as a girl. If I decide to wed him, I would be proud to be his wife.” Despite his rough upbringing, Paul had fought to change his way of life. He’d educated himself, and she respected him for it.

“There is no titled gentleman in London who would have me, if he knew the truth,” she continued. “And both of you know the reason why. He’s learning to walk in the nursery.”

Lord Arnsbury had the grace to look guilty at that. “It need not ruin the rest of your life, Juliette.” He rubbed at his beard, sighing. “The gift you gave to Charlotte and me is beyond price. How could I ask you to wed a poor man, when you deserve so much better?”

“As I said before, I haven’t agreed to marry anyone. I still might not marry.” She held her ground, though inwardly, she wondered if her memories of last night were somehow evident. Her cheeks warmed at the thought.

Her aunt exchanged another look with her husband. “There’s more, Juliette. Not only about Dr. Fraser.”

She waited, and from the tight expression on their faces, she knew the news could not be good.

“I’ve received a letter from Beatrice. It seems that the Earl of Strathland is in London. I don’t know how long he’s been here, but I thought you should know.”

She felt as if she’d taken an invisible blow to her stomach. No, he couldn’t come here. London was her sanctuary, her escape from him. Her hands twisted in her skirts, and a ringing noise resounded in her ears. “Keep him away from me, Aunt.”

“I will send word to all of my friends not to receive him or invite him to any of their gatherings. He will not be welcome.”

Charlotte reached out and squeezed her hands. “At a moment like this, I wish you
were
already married, my dear. For I fear he’ll only pursue that which he cannot have.”

Juliette straightened in her chair, knowing her aunt was right. “Are my parents still planning to stay in Scotland?”

Charlotte nodded. “Your sister Victoria has decided to remain there, until the child is born. Beatrice will want to be with her.” The look of sympathy that crossed her aunt’s expression suggested that she, too, was remembering Juliette’s painful labor.

Silence descended as Juliette tried to determine what to do. Avoiding the earl was the best course of action, until Strathland returned to Scotland. Surely she could manage to remain invisible for a short time.

But in the meantime, Dr. Fraser needed to know about the earl’s arrival. If she attended any gatherings at all, she wanted Paul shadowing her at every moment.

For she trusted him to keep her safe.