Unraveled By The Rebel (28 page)

“We could be happy together, Juliette. Even without children.” Though he would have loved a son or daughter with her smile, he wanted Juliette more.

“I don’t believe that,” she whispered. “You were meant to be a father. And I can’t imagine you being happy with me in a marriage like this.” She reached for his hand and tightened her gloved fingers around it. “I care enough about you to let you go.”

He drew back to look into her eyes. “Do you believe that you’ve no right to be happy?”

Confusion clouded her face, and she didn’t have an answer for him.

“What happened to you was no’ your fault,” he said. “You were his victim, no’ his lover. And you shouldna lose out on the rest of your life because of that.”

She rested her palms upon his chest, her expression shocked. It was as if she’d lived with the burial shroud of her sins for so long, she didn’t know how to cast it off.

“I’d be lying if I said I didna want to share your bed,” he admitted. “But there are ways a man and a woman can touch one another without risk of a babe. Or don’t you remember that night at the
cèilidh
?”

She flushed at the mention of it, and Paul reached up to cup her cheek. “We’ll try it, Juliette. If it means living with you, sharing a life with you, ’twill be worth it.”

“I fear you’ll grow to hate me one day.”

Her words offended him. “I
can
control my urges,” he said. “Though I might want to be with you, I ken when to stop.”

She winced and nodded. “I’ll be your wife in name,” she agreed, “but not in body. I can’t give you all that I should.”

“I willna ask for more than you can give,” he said. “But for now, I’ll ask for a kiss.”

She lifted her mouth to his, kissing him lightly. Breath and mouths mingled, and he tasted the salt of her earlier tears. But the gentle offering only flared up feelings of possession. He wanted to drive out the memories of Strathland, until she thought of nothing but him. He cupped her face in his hand, claiming more. The kiss transformed, deepening until he ached to touch her. He gave in to his desires, pulling her into his lap. But the moment he drew her against his aroused body, she froze beneath his touch.

“It’s naught to be afraid of,” he murmured, pulling back. “As I said before, you’ve no reason to fear me.”

Juliette touched her fingers to her swollen lips, pushing her way off his lap. “I—I know. But please… I need you to go slowly.”

He would. Her insistence that they could not have a physical joining between them was surely born of fear. Though he’d never force her against her wishes, he fully intended to touch her and bring her pleasure.

Surely, it couldn’t be that difficult to have intimacy with Juliette, even without a true joining. He’d never made love to
another woman before, despite the ribbing of his fellow classmates at the medical college. Though he could have easily joined them at a local brothel, his sense of loyalty was stronger than the need for an hour’s worth of pleasure.

It would have been a betrayal of Juliette. All these years, he’d chosen to wait, wanting her to be his first and only lover.

He didn’t regret it. He’d heard enough tales about what to do on a wedding night from his friends. Many had claimed that women preferred being brought to their release without penetration. The idea of exploring Juliette’s bare flesh all night, of learning what brought her pleasure, was deeply arousing. Perhaps it would be enough for both of them.

But all that mattered now was protecting her from Strathland, taking her far away from London.

No matter how long it took to gain her trust, he intended to lie with Juliette in his arms.

Even if that was all he’d ever have.

The Countess of Arnsbury was barren for nearly ten years. Everyone knows that.

Brandon paced across his home, his sister’s words still ringing within his mind. He’d remarked to Sarah that he’d seen the countess and Juliette out walking with a baby the other day, and she’d responded without thinking.

Barren. Until this past year, when Juliette had come to stay with her.

The image of Juliette holding the baby was etched in his mind like a burning scar. Though logically the child belonged to Lady Arnsbury, Brandon thought back to the look of terror in Juliette’s eyes. She’d clutched the baby as if she feared something would happen to the boy.

At the time, he’d dismissed her reaction as that of a woman afraid. But what if… it hadn’t been a fear of him? What if she had been afraid for the child? Was it even possible?

He thought back to the night he’d taken her virginity and counted the months. She would have given birth to the child when she was eighteen, in May. That meant the boy would be nearly a year old, which was likely, given the child’s size.

Juliette had disappeared from Scotland after he’d claimed her, staying away for almost a year. She’d traveled with her aunt Charlotte, he’d heard, and had returned to London for several months.

The more he pieced together the past, the more convinced he became that this could be
his
son. Juliette must have hidden the boy away, trying to pass him off as the Earl of Arnsbury’s child. Since the countess had not borne a child in so many years of marriage, most people believed it was a happy miracle.

But Brandon suspected it was a lie.

He stared outside, wishing his driver would go faster. He needed to see the child again for himself, to discover if there were any traces of his own appearance. On that day in the park, he’d paid little attention to the boy, and now he regretted it.

He intended to confront Juliette and learn the truth. If she’d stolen his son from him, he would take the boy back. Though the child could not inherit, that didn’t matter. Even a bastard son deserved to know his father.

His rush of anger suddenly dissipated when he realized that he now had a trump card that Juliette could not deny. He could threaten to expose her son unless she married him. If she refused him, Brandon would tell the world that the boy was a bastard, and he’d lose everything.

If the child truly
was
her son, she would do anything to protect him. And Brandon intended to see to it that she suffered for all the humiliations she’d given him. She would be sorry for all that she’d done.

The coach pulled up to the Arnsbury residence, and he disembarked with help from a footman. Anticipation swelled up inside him at the thought of seeing Juliette, of watching her pride diminish. She would beg for his forgiveness, he had no doubt. But he would allow her a token, by taking their son back after she’d wed him. Eventually, she would see that her place was with him.

He couldn’t wait.

“Miss Andrews, you have a visitor,” the butler informed her. “The Earl of Strathland has come to call.”

His words struck her cold, for she’d never expected Lord Strathland to confront her here. Not this soon. Though she’d known he was angry at the ball last night, she’d expected to be gone before he could retaliate. A rush of anxiety caught her in the stomach as she wondered what he wanted.

It didn’t matter. Just because he had come to call didn’t mean she had to see him. She pushed back the instinctive fear, reminding herself that there were a dozen servants who would come to her aid. She was in no danger at all.

Even so, she gripped her hands together to stop them from shaking.

“Tell him I am not at home,” Juliette responded.

All around her lay piles of clothing and a single trunk. She’d decided not to pack everything for her return to Scotland, since she had no need of court gowns or dresses for balls. Amelia would make better use of them. For tomorrow morning, she was leaving for Scotland with Paul.

“Forgive me, Miss Andrews, but he was most insistent. He bade me give you this, if you refused.” The butler held out a small note.

Why couldn’t Lord Strathland understand that she would never change her mind? No matter what he said or did, she would die
before allowing him to court her. With a sigh, Juliette accepted the note and broke the seal. The six words, written in clear black ink, stood out on the paper as if they were marked in blood.

We need to discuss our son.

The room spun, and the color drained from her face. “Leave me,” she ordered the butler. The man bowed, and as soon as he left the room, Juliette ran to the chamber pot and sank to her knees, retching. Her body shook with tremors so hard, she couldn’t bring herself to stand.

He knows. Oh God, oh God, he knows.

She rested her cheek upon the carpet, wanting to curl up into a ball and avoid facing him. She’d been afraid of this for so long, of endangering Matthew. If she refused to see Lord Strathland, he would believe that the boy was indeed his. He’d well and truly cornered her now.

She got to her knees and held on to the bedpost as she rose to her feet.
Be strong,
her mind ordered.
Deny the truth and force him to go
. If she convinced the earl that Matthew was not hers, then Strathland had no ammunition at all.

Slowly, she went to her dressing table and began to brush her hair, pinning back any stray locks. She pinched her cheeks for color and took slow, steady breaths.

You can do this,
she told herself.
You must lie for the sake of your son.

She could only pray that her words would be convincing.

“You’ve been keeping secrets, haven’t you, Miss Andrews?” Lord Strathland stood from his chair when she entered. Juliette nodded to the butler, who stood at the doorway just as she’d ordered him to. Although this was going to be a difficult conversation, she would never be alone with Lord Strathland. Had her aunt and uncle been present, she would have begged them to stay.

“The note you sent me was a lie,” she said, tossing it onto the hearth. “I have no son, and neither do you.”

Not if I can help it.

It took an effort to keep her tone even, for inwardly, she was shaking. “I was holding my aunt’s son,” Juliette continued. “She would not take kindly to your calling him a bastard.”

“I thought you might deny it,” he said smoothly. “The true question is what you would do to protect his future.”

There it was—the threat she’d been expecting. Lord Strathland was a petulant man who apparently did not understand the word
no
in any form.

“Why will you not leave me alone?” she demanded. “I’ve told you, time and again, that I want nothing to do with you. Ever.” There had to be madness within him, to think that he could coerce her to be with him again.

“Your father is going to give you Ballaloch for your dowry. And it will then come into my possession.”

“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “It’s not mine and never will be.”

“It’s a useless piece of land now, with hardly anything there at all. You will ask them for it.”

She said nothing about how her family had rebuilt the house, not knowing if he was even aware of that. “I want you to leave.”

“I’m certain you do.” He crossed the room and stood before her. “But I wanted you to know how you can keep the child safe. How to buy my silence, so that I’ll never threaten him.”

“I don’t need to buy your silence for a lie.”