Unraveled By The Rebel (27 page)

“You havena said a word,” Paul said, reaching out to her again. “Having second thoughts?”

No, she wasn’t. She was considering whether to tell him now about being ruined. The words were poised at her mouth, ready to offer the truth. But then, such a public place was not right for giving a confession.

“I will wed you,” she affirmed, though it wasn’t her own thoughts that troubled her. She also worried that Strathland might guess the truth about Matthew. And if she left him behind, did that not endanger him more?

Paul touched her nape, drawing her close. Though he didn’t kiss her, his finger reached along the chain she wore around her throat. Slowly he pulled it free of her gown, revealing the silver ring hanging from the end.

“You kept it.”

She nodded. “But before you wed me—before we go anywhere, I need to… talk to you alone. There are some things you need to know, before we marry.”

“We’re already alone,” he pointed out. “Tell me now.”

Not here. Especially not if he changed his mind. The last thing she wanted was to be abandoned in a ballroom.

Paul’s fingers tangled in the chain a moment, then he let it fall. “Shall I come to you tonight, then?”

“In the morning. Before you arrange for a coach to take us to Scotland.” If he changed his mind, she didn’t want him going to any trouble.

“Juliette, this marriage will be a good one. I promise you that.”

She let out a slow breath. “I only hope you don’t live to regret it.”

The Earl of Strathland saw Juliette emerging from the conservatory. Although her clothing showed no signs of being in disarray, he had glimpsed a man in the shadows. The mysterious viscount whom everyone was talking about. Though he hadn’t seen the man’s face, many of the young ladies had been eager to dance with him.

Juliette’s lips were slightly swollen, as if she’d been well-kissed. Although every strand of her hair was in place, jealousy roared through him. She dared to give him the cut in front of everyone, only to fall into the arms of another man?

Had the viscount clasped her hair when he’d kissed her? Had she let the man touch her?

Damn the slut for this. She belonged to him and no one else. Right now he wanted to seize her by the arm and drag her away, overpowering her with his body until she understood who she belonged to.

He’d mistakenly believed that she had matured in the past two years. That she would recognize how wealthy he had become and what a good husband he would be. Instead, he’d found her going off into a conservatory with a man, like a common trollop.

But then, she was only nineteen. Just a girl behaving with the impulses of a passionate nature. With the right man to discipline
her, she could be the wife he wanted. He envisioned spending his days teaching her how to please him, both out of his bed and in it.

A shiver of anticipation rocked through him.

His patience had come to an end. It was time to ensure her compliance. Once he revealed Juliette’s shame to her parents, they would demand that he wed her.

He stared at her across the room, remembering the way she’d held the child in her arms. The urge to claim her, to make her young body swell with
his
child, was far too tempting. To his footman he ordered, “Bring the carriage around and inform my sister that we are leaving.”

Feigning a smile, he said farewell to his hostess and waited for Sarah to join him.

Within the month, he intended to have Juliette as his bride.

P
aul found Juliette waiting for him outside in her aunt’s tiny garden, while the rain poured down on her umbrella. Strange that she would be out here alone, in such wretched spring weather. But then he saw that her gaze was fixed upon a row of yellow and purple crocuses just starting to emerge from the ground. He walked through the rain until he stood before her. Seeing the misery on her face, he tensed. She looked all the world like she was planning to break their agreement.

“I’ve come, as you asked me to.” Upon one of her fingers, he glimpsed a flash of silver. She was wearing the ring he’d given her. And just like that, the air returned to his lungs. Then she must not have summoned him here to call off their engagement.

Paul moved to sit beside her, no longer caring that his clothes were getting soaked. “Tell me.” He took the umbrella from her, shielding both of them.

She twisted at the band of silver. “When I’ve finished, you may not want to marry me anymore. But… it would be wrong to wed you, unless you understand what happened while you were in Edinburgh.”

Though he already knew what she intended to say, he could read the fear and nervousness in her posture. He wanted to spare her this moment, but he couldn’t admit that Sinclair had told him of the attack. Despite the knowledge, it was far worse seeing her struggle to tell him. He didn’t want to hear it from her lips. Instead, he wanted to forget it, to bury the past that haunted her.

Juliette’s face was pale, her hands clasped together. “I should have told you this long ago,” she began, “but I was too afraid you would look upon me with hatred.”

“Nothing you say would ever make me hate you,” he offered. But from the tight expression on her face, he knew she didn’t believe him. Likely she thought he would be furious with her or blame her in some way. He wouldn’t. But even imagining that night brought a dark violence within him. He wanted to murder the man who had hurt her. And though he didn’t know the attacker’s name, his suspicions were on edge. He’d already guessed who it was… but he didn’t truly want her to confirm the answer.

“I told you I didn’t want to marry you, or any man,” she said at last. “But there was a reason why. A reason I was too ashamed to say.”

He waited for her to tell him of the attack. His gut clenched, his mouth somber in readiness.

Juliette took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “In May of last year, I gave birth to a son.”

God above, that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. All of the tension within him stretched tighter, until Paul felt as though his body had turned to stone. Though he’d known about the rape, Sinclair had said nothing about a child. Juliette had a living reminder of the night she’d been violated. Not only had she suffered the loss of her innocence, but she’d become a mother as well.

“My family doesn’t know about this. I gave him to another woman.” She stared at him, her eyes holding the weariness and pain of a mother who had to let go of a child she loved.

Paul remained silent, revealing nothing at all. A numbness flowed over him at her revelation, as another piece fell into place. His mind went cold, and he could find no words to respond. It was as if the ground beneath him had vanished, leaving him to fall into a void.

“Say something, Paul,” she whispered, twisting at the silver
ring. Her glance flickered toward the house, and he realized now what her true reason was for wanting to be in London.

Her son was here.

His mind flashed with the memory of her holding a bairn in her arms, rocking him at night. She’d looked upon him with such love. There was no question of what had happened to her son.

“Your aunt is raising him, isn’t she?”

She hesitated for a long pause, then nodded. “Charlotte took me in and made the excuse that I would be her traveling companion, since Lord Arnsbury was too busy to go with her. She took me to Norway, where I lived until I gave birth.”

Her voice had gone quiet, and she covered her flushed cheeks with her palms. “I nearly died. The labor pains went on for days, and the birth didn’t go well. I was out of my mind with fever, and it was a miracle I lived.”

Paul let out a slow breath, knowing how many died in childbirth. He’d seen them suffer, and countless women died from hemorrhaging or childbed fever. To think of Juliette wracked with pain evoked a phantom regret that he had not been there for her.

“It’s unlikely I’ll ever bear another child. It would kill me,” she admitted.

He revealed none of his thoughts, for he could see the vivid pain in her face. Her eyes gleamed with tears, and she said at last, “I hope you understand now why I cannot… ever share your bed. It’s more than my fear of what happened to me. It could cost me my life.”

She stared at Paul as if she expected him to look upon her with revulsion. It wasn’t that. It was as if he were seeing her through a pane of glass. There was an invisible barrier there that could never be broken. And behind it was a woman hurting. A woman who believed she was unworthy of happiness.

Paul needed to know who the son of a bitch was so he could kill him. “You never gave yourself to anyone, did you?” he said slowly, trying to keep himself calm. “You were attacked.”

Her face drained of color, but she nodded. “I—I went out walking alone. It was my foolishness, and there was no one to hear me cry out for help.” A tear slid down her face, and she gripped her hands together. “I fought him, but… he was too strong.”

“Who?” he demanded. The words were a razor, for he fully intended to avenge her. The man didn’t deserve to live, and Paul had a mind to ensure that the bastard was incapable of being with a woman again.

Juliette remained silent for a long time. At last she said, “If I tell you, you’ll try to kill him.”

“You’re damned right I will. Or he’ll wish he was dead.” He had no qualms about hurting the man who had violated Juliette. An eye for an eye…

But he could see the reluctance on her face. He reached up with one hand to cup her cheek. “I deserve his name, Juliette.”

“What’s done is done. No matter who it was, nothing can undo what happened.”

She closed her eyes, covering his hand with her own. Although he was trying to remain calm, his blood was boiling. This man had stolen her innocence, and because of it, she would not willingly share herself again. The need to know burned within him.

“I want to ensure that you ne’er lay eyes on him again.”

She turned in his embrace, resting her cheek against his heart. “Isn’t it enough that I’ve told you this much?”

“No’ for me.” He gripped her in his arms and said, “Give me your trust, Juliette. I won’t be running off like a lad of seven and ten, bent on murder.”

It wasn’t entirely the truth, but she didn’t need to be any more afraid than she already was.

A tear rolled down her face, and he wiped it away with his thumb. Seeing her like this only fueled the rage against the man who had hurt her.

“It was Brandon Carlisle,” she said softly. “The Earl of Strathland.”

And there it was. The truth he’d never wanted to hear from her lips.

The moment she voiced the answer, his emotions solidified into one purpose—to kill the man who had taken so much away from those he loved. Poverty wasn’t enough anymore.

He wanted the earl no longer breathing.

In her eyes, he saw the fear that she’d said too much. To comfort her, Paul tightened his arms around her, fighting to calm the storm of rage and disbelief. He focused on breathing in the scent of her hair, trying to will himself not to release the fury inside him.

A twitching anger stretched his skin tighter, winding him up like a clockwork spring, renewing his desire to bring Strathland to ruin. He could hardly hear any of the words she said, and it took an effort to breathe.

“I wanted to die that night,” Juliette confessed. “I almost didn’t come home. I wished he had killed me. I—I couldn’t tell anyone, but your mother and Mr. Sinclair helped me.” She clutched his hand, shuddering. “Strathland wanted to marry me, and I’d refused him. This was his way of punishing me, of forcing me into marriage. I knew if I stayed, he would tell my parents. So I fled Scotland to my aunt Charlotte’s, leaving only a note for my mother. Mr. Sinclair helped me to reach London safely.”

She poured out the rest of the story, of her shame and the pregnancy that followed. He understood that she’d done what she’d had to, to escape. But now, Strathland was threatening her again.

“If you no longer wish to marry me, I would understand,” Juliette finished. “I know I’m no longer a wife any man would want. I’m ruined.”

“You should have told me.” He tilted her face to look at him. “I would have helped you, lass. You shouldn’t have suffered through it alone.”

“Please don’t tell anyone of this. Only a few people know of it.”

“Is that the reason you’re wanting to remain in London? Because of your son?”

She nodded. “I wish I could have kept him.” Her eyes lit up as she described the infant boy. “Matthew is an innocent in all this. But he’s perfect. The sweetest boy I’ve ever seen. When he laughs—” Her voice caught in her throat, and she smiled through her tears. “It breaks my heart to see him. And yet, I need to be near him.”

“Will you tell him the truth, one day?”

Her smile faded. “I can’t. As my aunt’s son, he will inherit the title of earl and all of their estates. If anyone knew he’s illegitimate, he would have nothing.”

She closed her eyes for a moment as if to blot out the pain. “You deserve children, Paul. And I can never give you that. It isn’t fair to you, to take me as your wife.”

“And it isna fair for you to walk away from the life you wanted, because of Strathland.” His hand moved down to her shoulder. The rain had stopped, and he lowered the umbrella. Her bonnet was soaked, and he loosened the ties.