Unraveled By The Rebel (40 page)

“I’m also worried about Mother and Father,” Juliette said. “They’re hardly speaking to one another. Do you know if everything’s all right?”

Victoria shrugged. “I don’t know. Mother pretends as if all is well, but they’ve been apart for three years. I think they had a row when Father learned about Aphrodite’s Unmentionables. Mother refused to prevent us from continuing with our business. She said if His Grace didn’t mind, neither should he.”

Juliette eyed her sister. “I imagine that didn’t go over well.” But at least it explained the tension between her parents.

The tray of tea and sandwiches arrived at last. She took one, while her sister enjoyed three, laughing at herself while she ate. “I do believe I would eat anything that wasn’t still alive and fleeing from me,” Victoria admitted, reaching for another sheaf of papers. “And while I’m eating the rest of your sandwiches, why don’t you tell me what you think of these, Juliette?”

She looked over the remaining sketches and offered her opinion. Yet, looking at the scandalous undergarments made her think of the night Paul had made love to her for the first time. Despite being terrified, she now was no longer afraid. It had been as wonderful as she’d thought it would be. And though it was impractical, she wanted to be with him again.

“Did I embarrass you with my last letter?” her sister asked, as she put away the sketches.

“Very much,” Juliette answered honestly. “I never suspected—” Her words broke off, her face crimson at this conversation. “That is, Paul and I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” her sister said, her own face growing red. “I know what you mean.”

She was grateful at not having to go into detail.

“Where is Dr. Fraser now?” Victoria asked. “And is he truly a viscount? Was our mother overjoyed?”

Juliette gaped at her sister. “Do you have any more questions, or can I answer now?”

Victoria patted her stomach and waved her hand. “Go on.”

“Yes, my husband is a viscount. He inherited the title when his uncle died this past spring, but he’s still a physician. He went to tend the wounded, and one of the men died a few days ago.” She shivered, though both of them had known the inevitable. “He comes home late at night and hasn’t spoken to our parents yet.”

“Tell him to be careful,” Victoria advised. She sobered, adding, “My husband had to return to London, since he’s been neglecting his duties at the House of Lords. He doesn’t know about the shootings or Lord Strathland’s return.” Her face turned dark, with a warning look. “And you aren’t going to tell him, either.”

“Toria, you shouldn’t stay here,” Juliette argued. “Something might happen to you and the baby.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the duchess insisted, shuddering at the thought. “I’ve finished with traveling, and I intend to stay here in Scotland until my child is born. Parliament will be out of session by the end of the summer, and His Grace will be back long before the birth.”

“But what about Lord Strathland?” Juliette asked. “Don’t you think he’ll be a threat to you?”

Victoria shook her head. “Not if he wants to continue selling his wool in the years to come. My husband has spoken to the buyers, along with your husband.” She added, “Strathland hasn’t ventured near the house or me. And he won’t. He’s angry at the crofters, not us.”

“I still don’t think it’s safe,” Juliette insisted. Although her sister was deeply afraid of going outside, she wished Victoria would leave Scotland.

“Ever since the shootings, I’ve ordered our men and some of the crofters to patrol the borders of our land. Strathland’s men have trespassed a few times, but we’ve kept them back.” Victoria’s expression remained calm. Her hand moved to her swollen womb, and her face softened as if she felt a light kick. “By the time His Grace returns, I’m confident there will be no danger at all.”

Juliette didn’t believe that, but neither did she want to upset her sister by saying so. To change the subject, she asked, “Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

As she’d hoped, Victoria smiled. “It doesn’t matter at all. Whether it’s a boy or a girl, I can’t wait to hold my baby in my arms.”

The swollen ache in Juliette’s heart reared up again. She didn’t know if she would ever hold Matthew again. The more time she spent away from him, the more she missed him.

“You’ll hold your child soon enough,” she told Victoria, trying to keep the thickness of tears from her voice. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I need to return home and talk to Father about Paul. Tonight, he should be finished with all the wounded.”

“Is the Colonel being difficult again?”

Juliette nodded. “At first, he tried to put us in bedrooms on opposite sides of the house, until Mother intervened. When I told him of our marriage, he was furious. He said he would annul it because I was under the age of consent.”

“He can’t annul the marriage,” Victoria pointed out. “It’s not an English marriage. Furthermore, it’s been consummated.”

She nodded. “I know. Mother is trying to make him see reason, but he seems appalled at the idea of me sleeping with a man, even if he is my husband.”

“He still believes we’re perpetually six years old,” Victoria said, sighing. “When he saw me pregnant, he turned bright red and started coughing into his handkerchief. I thought he would have an apoplectic fit right there.”

Juliette smiled at the thought of their father’s embarrassment. “I imagine he wanted to.” Rising to her feet, she thanked her sister for the refreshments. “I should go, before Paul returns home.”

Before she could leave, Victoria stopped her. “Thank you for coming to see me, Juliette. I’ve missed you so much.” With a soft smile, she added, “And I think you
are
going to have a baby. There’s something different about you.”

Fear choked up inside her, but Juliette tried to paste a false smile on her face. “Perhaps.”

She could only pray that her sister was wrong.

H
e’d saved six of the men. Besides the one who had bled out, another crofter had died of blood poisoning. His mother had been unable to get the bullets out, but Paul felt as if he’d battled Death and won. He’d hardly slept at all in three days. And yet, his mind and body were strung so tight, his awareness was honed to an edge.

The evening had begun to wane, the golden light fading into the purple of night. He’d taken a horse this day, and it felt good to ride along the edges of the duke’s land, trying to release the tension. He wished Juliette were here now so he could ride with her, taking her into the mountains so he could lay her down on the grass.

Though he’d come to her each night, she’d been asleep, her body curled inward. He hadn’t touched her at all, and he’d left before dawn each morning.

Her father hadn’t been pleased to learn that they’d wed. Lord Lanfordshire hadn’t raged or made threats. Instead, he’d gone quiet, his disapproval a palpable thing on the rare occasion when their paths had crossed.

It wasn’t about money or rank. No, despite his inheritance, the baron seemed to see past the new wealth to the crofter’s son who was more comfortable as a physician than a nobleman. A viscount would never soil his hands in the way Paul had. But the title was just that to him—a word. Not a social barrier that prevented him from helping others. He didn’t know if Juliette’s father would ever come to accept him. Or if that even mattered anymore.

He drew his horse to a stop at Eiloch Hill, on the outskirts of the duke’s residence. A large tree was dense with foliage, its thick branches casting shadows upon the ground. His father had died here, upon this hill.

So many times, Paul wished he could go back and undo the choices he’d made as a lad. One reckless night had ended all of it. Were it not for his father’s sacrifice, it would have been
his
body swinging from that tree.

He dismounted and climbed up the hillside, his steps heavy with regret. When he reached the thick oak tree, he touched the rough bark with one palm. And he imagined his father’s hand upon his shoulder, Kenneth speaking to him in a deep voice.

One day you’ll make your mark on the world, lad. Be sure that you can look back on your life and be proud of what you’ve done.

He wished his father were alive today. No doubt Kenneth would smile if he knew Paul had married Juliette. His father had always liked her.

And although Kenneth had never once revealed his past, Paul understood why his father had given up so much. He’d loved his wife enough to surrender everything for her. Sometimes he’d caught his parents whispering together, even holding hands. It had given him a sense of security, knowing that he was loved and that they had loved one another.

He’d do the same for Juliette, if it were ever asked of him.

“Dr. Fraser,” came a voice from behind him. Paul turned and saw five men approaching. All were armed, and one carried a rope. Though he didn’t recognize any of them, their leader had an English tone in his accent.

“Lord Strathland sent us to summon you. He wants a word.”

Paul said nothing, and he suspected Strathland wanted far more than a word from him. “He can come and pay a call on me in the morning. I’m staying with Lord Lanfordshire.” His gaze drew in his surroundings, searching for a sign of the duke’s men or a way out. No doubt the moment he made a move in any direction,
they would pursue him. The question was whether they meant to kill him.

Paul supposed he ought to feel fear or a sense of urgency. Instead, his mood was pensive, as if he’d expected this.

“Lord Strathland wants to see you this evening at his house. We are your escorts,” the man said. “I am his new factor, Charles Davenport.”

Davenport made it sound as if Paul had been invited to tea instead of his own execution.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m wanting to go home to my wife,” Paul said. “But if Strathland wishes to speak to me, I don’t mind returning in the morning.” With an array of weapons and men to stand at his side.

“Lord Strathland wishes to see
her
as well,” Davenport remarked. “We can escort both of you.”

“You willna go near my wife,” Paul growled, striding forward. He didn’t give a damn what happened to him, but if they dared to threaten Juliette, he had no qualms about defending her.

Two of the men tried to grab him, but Paul wrenched himself away. He hauled back his fist and punched the first man. Although his knuckles connected with the man’s nose, drawing blood, the other drove his fist into Paul’s gut at that moment. All the air was sucked out of his lungs, and he gasped for breath.

He fought hard, but after a time, he realized that he was better off biding his time and reserving his strength. He was outnumbered, and feigning surrender might prove a more useful tactic. One man jerked his arms behind his back, while another came forward with the rope. Paul flexed his wrists, fighting against them as they bound him, trying to force the rope to be looser than they wanted.

He never saw the blow that took him from behind, dragging him into darkness.

Sunlight speared her eyes from between the drapes, and Juliette reached over to the empty side of the bed. Paul wasn’t there. Though she tried to tell herself that he’d likely been tending more wounded people, she had a cold sense that something wasn’t right. Even when he’d been gone for hours, he’d always come home. She would awaken from sleep to find his arms around her, and she’d welcomed the comfort of his embrace.

When she sat up, the room spun a moment, and she saw stars. Fighting off the dizziness, she reached for a dressing gown and drew open the drapes. It was far later than she’d expected, nearly eight o’clock in the morning. She turned back to Paul’s pillow and saw that his coverlet was still tucked in place, the pillowcase smooth.

He hadn’t come home last night.

She rang for Mrs. Larson, needing to get dressed, when suddenly, her stomach twisted with nausea. Oh God. She knew this feeling. The familiarity of it was like a physical blow, for she knew what it meant. She dropped to her knees, reaching for the chamber pot, and ended up gagging. There was nothing in her stomach, but the impulse was impossible to stop. When she was done, she rested her face upon the wooden floor.

“Miss Juliette, may I come in?” came the cheerful voice of the housekeeper.

If she lay there without moving, her stomach might not lurch again.

“Yes,” she managed.

When the door swung open, Mrs. Larson hurried forward. “Oh, my poor lamb. What is it? Are ye sick?”

Juliette managed a nod, feeling as if she didn’t dare lift her head.

“Well, now, let’s see if we can’t get ye back to bed,” the housekeeper said. “Lean against me while I help you up.”

Juliette did, and the room shifted beneath her feet once more. When she managed to sit upon the bed, she lowered her head to her lap, taking several deep breaths.

“It’s at times like these when it’s good tae be married to a doctor,” Mrs. Larson pronounced. “Where is Dr. Fraser, then?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t come into our room last night.” She kept trying to tell herself that it was nothing, but her intuition only heightened the chill of fear.

The housekeeper poured water into a basin and brought over a damp cloth. “I’ll see if anyone saw him last night. He might have slept at his mother’s house, if it was too late.”