Unraveled By The Rebel (4 page)

“I know she’ll be happy, but I don’t envy her at all,” Juliette admitted. The thought of becoming a duchess in London society was impossible to imagine. And for her sister, it would be even more difficult, since Victoria had been too afraid to leave the house for the past five years. When they’d journeyed here, an accident en route had caused her to be inadvertently left behind, leaving her stranded in the Scottish Highlands for days. After that, her anxieties had held her prisoner in the house. It was only with the duke’s help that she’d managed to walk past the front door. No one knew how she would manage to travel to London with her new husband.

Juliette moved into the parlor, keeping on the outskirts of the other guests. Her mother, Beatrice, was beaming with joy, thrilled at her daughter’s successful match. Soon enough, she would drag the rest of them back to London, in the hopes of securing successful marriages.

The thought was both reassuring and frightening. Juliette had her own reasons for wanting to be away from Ballaloch. Yet, her mother would never understand why she wanted to remain a spinster. At the thought of confessing her nightmare, nausea roiled in her stomach. She intended to put it off for as long as humanly possible.

Victoria crossed the room alone, and Juliette thought it odd that her husband would have left her side on their wedding day. Her sister was twisting her hands, eyeing the door with uncertainty.

A moment later, Dr. Fraser came through the front door. His gaze narrowed upon one of the Highlanders, and he crossed through the crowd, speaking quietly to Mr. Cain Sinclair. There was a sense of urgency in his demeanor, and when Juliette made her way toward them, she caught only Paul’s last words: “Get the horses.”

For what purpose? Juliette frowned, wondering if there had been another raid or if anyone was hurt. Paul met her gaze for a fraction of a second, inclining his head in a nod. He donned his hat and hurried back outside.

Before Mr. Sinclair could join him, Juliette caught the man’s arm, craning her neck to look at him. “What’s going on?”

“Let me by,” he said. “We heard that Lord Strathland has sent men riding toward this house. We’re wanting to know where they are and why they’re coming.”

Her mind went numb at the thought. Only this past autumn, the Earl of Strathland had evicted the MacKinloch crofters on his land in order to make room for his vast herds of sheep. Her family had given the local clan refuge before the duke had agreed to give them space on his land for permanent homes, but the fighting had continued between the earl’s men and the crofters.

Lord Strathland was a threat to all of them. The very thought of the man tightened the fear within her, and she wished he’d go back to England. She couldn’t understand why he stayed here, in the midst of thousands of acres of grazing land, when he could live on another estate. For as long as she could remember, he’d lived in this region like a king trying to conquer all the surrounding lands. He’d tried, time and again, to buy her parents’ land, only to have her father refuse. It was also the reason why he’d wanted to wed her—in the hopes of winning Ballaloch as a marriage settlement.

Juliette clenched her hands together to stop them from shaking. “Don’t let Strathland ruin my sister’s wedding.”

Sinclair’s blue eyes hardened into chips of ice. “None of us will let any harm be done here. No’ when we can stop them.” Without another word, he pushed past her and opened the door.

Juliette followed him. She caught a glimpse of Dr. Fraser and the duke as they mounted their horses. At the sight of Paul riding away, a pang of worry caught her heart.
Let him be safe,
she prayed. She stood watching them until the three men disappeared into the hills and she closed the door at last.

An iciness threaded through her veins, though she pushed it back. From the window, she saw the sun sinking below the horizon. Her sister Victoria was standing near the edge of the crowd, as if she desperately wanted to escape.

Juliette understood that feeling. She made her way past the wedding guests until she reached her sister’s side. Excusing them both from the others, she led Victoria back into the parlor.

“I thought you might want a moment to collect yourself,” Juliette offered. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m just worried,” Victoria admitted. “We heard a rumor from one of the younger boys about Lord Strathland’s men approaching the house. It may be nothing, but—”

“But they won’t take that chance,” she finished. Though she spoke with a reassuring air, her stomach twisted at the news. “I heard about it from Mr. Sinclair,” Juliette added. “He and Dr. Fraser have gone to stop them from coming close.” And God willing, they would succeed.

Her sister nodded but still appeared frightened. “My husband has gone with them.”

Juliette squeezed her hands, murmuring words of reassurance that neither of them really believed. “Why don’t you go to your room for a moment?” she suggested. “You look overwhelmed.”

Her sister sent her a grateful look. “Thank you.”

Though both of them knew that the bride wasn’t supposed to abandon her own wedding celebration, Victoria wasn’t comfortable
around so many people. Her sister hated being the center of attention.

“Do you want me to accompany you?” Juliette offered.

For a moment, her sister faltered, as if considering it. “No, that’s all right. I’ll just take a moment to catch my breath before I return.” Her cheeks flushed, and Victoria added, “So many of the women are teasing me about my wedding night. I’m not afraid at all, to be honest. Well, maybe only a little.” There was an unexpected sparkle in her eyes, but Juliette could not imagine anticipating a wedding night with anything except dread. Were she in her sister’s place, she’d be terrified.

For she knew exactly what Victoria would face. And though some of the women laughed and made innuendos about making love, it wasn’t something Juliette wanted to ever endure.

Not again.

She closed her eyes for a moment and collected herself. Then she walked alongside her sister, until Victoria went upstairs, returning to her room. Juliette’s hands were shaking against her own volition, and she returned to the parlor, inwardly repeating the words like a mantra.

It wasn’t your fault. You were forced.

The shame coursed through her again, until she felt ill. Her vision blurred, and she gripped the edge of the chaise longue to steady herself.

It wasn’t your fault.

Even so, the damage remained. Although at one point she’d dreamed of having a husband and children, she couldn’t imagine that now. Never could she relive the pain of lying beneath a man, suffering the degradation of a wedding night. She would embrace spinsterhood wholeheartedly if it meant that she wouldn’t have to experience such a nightmare again.

A sudden crash of breaking glass made her jump. Seconds later, Juliette saw that the cause was a flaming brick, wrapped in
cloth and soaked with oil. The moment the brick hit the edge of the sofa, the fabric caught fire.

Juliette jerked back in shock, moving instinctively for a pitcher of water or something to smother the fire. The flames were moving far too quickly, and she saw a wet residue along the perimeter of the room.

Oil.

Her mind went numb, for it meant that someone had deliberately planned the fire. Someone who had come to her sister’s wedding, possibly one of the crofters. But why? Her family had done nothing except offer sanctuary to them. They’d given the Scots a place to live.

Unless one of the earl’s men had disguised himself among the others.

One of the guests spied the flames and cried out a warning. The screams of frightened children mingled with the voices of their mothers trying to shush them. Too many people pushed their way to the door, fighting to get out.

Someone grabbed her hand and pulled hard, dragging her outside with the others. The scent of smoke was acrid, the fire raging faster than it should.

Men were already gathering buckets from the well, forming a line to put out the fire. Juliette searched the crowd until she found her mother. Beatrice hugged her tight, already holding the hand of Amelia. Her sister’s eyes were wide, terrified of the fire.

“Where’s Margaret?” Beatrice demanded. “And Victoria?”

She let out a shaky breath of air. “Victoria was in her room, the last I saw her. I haven’t seen Margaret.” Juliette glanced up at the house and saw that the flames were spreading so fast, it was nearly impossible to keep the fire under control. “Do you think they got out?”

An icy coldness gripped her at the thought of losing her sisters.
It couldn’t happen—she refused to even think of it. She stared at the flames, a thousand prayers rising up for their safety.

“Stay here while I find out.” Beatrice took Juliette’s hand and put Amelia in her care. “Watch over your sister.”

As soon as their mother left, Amelia started crying. Though her sister was sixteen and prone to dramatics, in this instance, she had reason to fear. “Toria’s still in the house. I just know it. I don’t want her to die.”

“She won’t die.” Juliette held her sister tight, trying to soothe her, though she silently feared Amelia was right about Victoria. “They’ll bring her out, if she’s still there. Though I don’t think she would stay inside a burning house.” Even as she said the words, she wasn’t convinced. Her sister’s fears were deeply rooted, and Juliette had never once seen Victoria walk outside in the five years they’d been here.

“They’ll find her,” she promised. But she kept searching for a glimpse of her sister.
Someone find her, please.

There was an eerie silence, as the crofters passed their buckets down the line to the burning rooms. Though they fought bravely, Juliette suspected it was a losing battle to save the house. The stone exterior might remain, but the inside was crumbling apart.

Horses approached, and at last, the riders returned. The duke wasted no time in dismounting from his horse, racing inside the burning house when he learned that his wife was still inside. Juliette was horror-struck, afraid that both of them would die in the conflagration.

Dr. Fraser pushed his way through the people, his eyes searching until they rested upon her. The remainder of the crowd seemed to disappear until there was only him. His dark hair was rumpled, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. Though he didn’t move any closer, she sensed his unspoken words.

You’re all right?

Yes, I’m all right.

Thank God.

Juliette forced herself not to move forward, to let the distance remain between them. But she was so glad to see that he’d returned unharmed. It was a visible relief, though she couldn’t let go of the worry for her sisters.

Dr. Fraser gave an almost imperceptible nod, fading back among the others until he took his place with the crofters. He rolled up his sleeves and aided them in fighting the fire while Juliette held back, praying that someone would find her sisters.

An invisible weight lifted from her shoulders when Margaret joined them at last. Her sister’s hair was rumpled, her face flushed, but in her arms, she held a cloth bundle. Juliette recognized it as the garments Victoria had been sewing—hundreds of pounds’ worth of silk and satin. Their eldest sister had taken it upon herself to begin selling corsets and chemises in December, and the profits had been staggering. Though Margaret had balked at the idea, at least she’d had enough sense to salvage their raw materials.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she murmured as Margaret embraced them both. Though her older sister gave no explanations about where she’d been, she pointed off in the distance. “Mr. Sinclair is hitching up the coach for us. He’s taking us somewhere safe for the night, since we can’t”—her voice broke off as she glanced back at the burning house—“sleep here.”

“But what about Toria and Mother?” Amelia looked appalled at the idea of leaving them.

“Mother is safe, and His Grace is bringing Toria out,” Margaret said. “We’ll wait beside the coach until they’re both with us.”

Amelia balked. “I don’t want to leave until we know she’s all right.”

Juliette took her sister’s hand, guiding her away from the house while Margaret led them toward the waiting coach. “It’s safer. The men will put out the fire, you’ll see.”

Again Amelia hesitated, her eyes upon the conflagration. “I don’t want her to die,” she whispered. “It’s her wedding day, Juliette. It was supposed to be her happiest day.”

A lump gathered in Juliette’s throat, but she nodded. “Don’t be afraid. His Grace will find her. I know he will.”

Mr. Sinclair stood near the edge of the glen, helping Margaret inside the coach before he returned to the crofters. On horseback, he urged the women and children to move south, away from the burning house.

The three sisters huddled together in the coach, all of them silent as the waiting dragged onward. Their footman, Mr. MacKinloch, arrived to drive them, and Juliette stared outside as Dr. Fraser continued helping Mr. Sinclair and the other crofters as they fought to put out the fire. The blaze was still going, and at last, the duke appeared. His arm was around Victoria as he guided her outside, away from the fire and toward a snowdrift.

Juliette let out a slow breath of air, so grateful to see her sister alive. Within moments, their mother returned, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“She’s safe,” Beatrice pronounced, climbing inside the coach. From the expression on her face, she seemed to have aged ten years in that last hour. “Both of them are unharmed.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, as if to steady her nerves.

“Will they go with us?” Amelia ventured.

Beatrice shook her head. “There’s not enough room in the coach. His Grace will look after her. We’re going to his house at Eiloch Hill. I believe they will meet us there.” Their footman closed the door to their coach and began the journey south.

The horses struggled through the drifts, making Juliette wonder if a sleigh would have been easier. Many times, they had to stop along the way, but none of them spoke. It was strange to think that their house was now gone, when only a few hours ago, they had been helping their sister dress for her wedding.