Unraveled By The Rebel (7 page)

Juliette crossed the room and took the paper from her mother. Upon it were lists of creditors, as many as Beatrice could remember. Juliette studied the list and added a few more merchants, designating which ones had already been paid. Then she wrote amounts beside those that remained.

“I believe these are the ones you want,” she said, passing the list back to her mother.

Beatrice stared at her for a moment, her brows furrowed. “How could you possibly know what was in Henry’s ledgers?”

“I read them each day and changed the numbers when we added our sewing profits,” she confessed. “We didn’t want you to know where the extra money was coming from.”

She’d expected her mother to be relieved that she had memorized the figures from the most recent accounts. Instead, Beatrice appeared upset. “Why did you feel the need to lie to me? Did you think I was so featherbrained that I wouldn’t notice?”

Juliette sobered, for she hadn’t thought of it in that way. “We were only trying to help.”

“I knew the numbers were wrong, but I couldn’t find where they’d been altered.” Beatrice’s tone sharpened. “Do you know how many hours I spent, trying to make them right again?”

“I’m sorry. I should have confessed the truth to you. We truly thought the extra money would be of use.”

Her mother let out a sigh. “I know, darling. But I don’t want to burden you with household matters when you’re so young. There will be time enough for that when you’re married.” She stood,
clasping her hands together, mustering a smile. “This is the time when you should laugh and dance… wear lovely frocks and flirt with handsome gentlemen.”

Her mother’s face grew wistful, and Juliette remembered that Beatrice had not done those things herself. She’d married an officer, because Henry Andrews was the only man to offer for her.

“You’ll never find a gentleman to wed if you spend your hours buried in accounts,” Beatrice insisted. “You may be good with adding sums, but it’s no life for a lady.”

“It has its uses,” Juliette ventured. Putting on a false smile, she added, “In case a handsome rake with a penchant for gambling decides to ask for my hand.”

At last, her mother’s face softened. And Juliette realized that this was all a distraction for Beatrice. Finding husbands for her daughters meant that she could escape her own problems. How many years had it been since her mother had enjoyed her own life? Juliette couldn’t remember the last time Beatrice had bought trinkets for herself.

Beatrice stood and brushed a lock of hair from Juliette’s temple. “When you return to London, His Grace has promised to use his influence on your behalf.” She reached out and took her hand, squeezing it lightly. “It was part of our agreement when he asked to wed Victoria. You’ll have a Season and all the opportunities I never had.”

Juliette understood, then, that although her mother wanted to maintain her pride when it came to rebuilding the house, Beatrice had no qualms about accepting help with achieving social status for her daughters.

“Promise me you’ll try to find a husband,” Beatrice pleaded. “And not Dr. Fraser, much as he might wish to court you.” Her face flushed, as if she didn’t mean to insult the man. “He’s a good physician, don’t mistake my meaning. But Juliette… he’s not for you.”

“Paul and I are friends,” she said absently. “Nothing more.”

“Then you might remind
Dr. Fraser
of that,” Beatrice corrected in a subtle admonition that it was improper to call him by his first name. “He tried to pay a call on you earlier today, but I told him you were not receiving.” She raised an eyebrow. “That
was
what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

Her mother’s assumption wasn’t unfounded, from all the calls Juliette had refused in the past few weeks. But even as she shrugged in reply, a prickle of regret tumbled within her. Almost as if she wanted to see Dr. Fraser again.

She excused herself, kissing her mother’s cheek before she left. Without really knowing why, she went to retrieve a woolen coat and a bonnet. She dressed herself warmly and donned boots to protect her from the snow. Outside, the air was crisp, the sun gleaming across the stark winter landscape. The mountains pierced the blue sky, while more snow blanketed the stony peaks.

Against the fence, she saw Paul waiting for her. Her heart stumbled at the sight of him, for she’d expected him to give up. He was watching her, his midnight-blue eyes holding an enigmatic expression. They were bloodshot, as if he’d not slept the night before.

Why was he here? Juliette crossed through the courtyard and saw that he’d worn a tartan today, his hands tucked inside the brown and green patterned wool. Dressed like a Highlander, he appeared less civilized than he had the night before.

“Good morning,” she greeted him, her breath frosting in the air.

“And to you.” His gaze passed over her, from her hair down to her boots. She clutched her coat tighter, not knowing why he’d come to see her again. “I wanted to speak to you once more, before you returned to London. Will you walk with me through the glen?”

She hesitated, glancing back at the house. Her mother was right. She shouldn’t encourage him, no matter what she might feel in his presence. He’d grown so handsome over the years, but
though he’d occasionally cloaked himself in the guise of a gentleman, there was something not quite tame about him.

And you like it,
a sinful voice taunted her conscience.

He reached into his coat and held out a small ball of fur. “I brought you something.”

When she stepped closer, she saw that it was a tiny gray and white kitten. He held it out to her, and she suddenly understood that this man was not about to play fair with her heart. He fully intended to weaken her defenses, using any means necessary.

In the early days of their letters, she had complained to him that her mother would never allow her to have a cat of her own. They were allowed in the stables, but never the house.

“You remembered,” she said at last.

“Aye.”

When she took the ball of fur from him, his hands brushed hers. The slight touch flared up the feelings she was trying to lock away. Being anywhere near this man was an assault upon her heart. To distract herself, she focused all her attention upon the animal.

The kitten reminded her of a white tiger, and its eyes held a seriousness, like the way Matthew had stared at her in the first minutes of his life. Her heart abruptly crumpled, and she cuddled the animal against her side. His tiny claws sank into the sleeve of her gown, but he appeared blissfully happy.

Careful,
her heart warned. Paul knew her better than anyone, and it seemed that despite her warnings, he fully intended to court her. And that wasn’t right.

“I shouldn’t keep him,” she confessed, even as the kitten nudged at her hand, letting out a tiny meow. “We’re traveling back to London, and he’d be frightened without a true home.”

“But you want to keep him.” His gaze held steady, and when he started walking toward the glen, she found herself unable to do anything except follow. Juliette bundled the kitten beneath her coat and walked behind him.

Her brain was crying out for her to thank him and leave. Although she knew it was perfectly safe to be alone with Paul Fraser—albeit improper—she found her willpower weakening. He was handsome, but the years had weathered his face, turning him fierce. He’d always been tall, but there was a lean strength to him, and a sense that he would never let any harm come to her.

Immediately, she shut down the thought. Last night, she’d made it clear that there would not be anything more than friendship between them. Regardless of what he wanted to say to her, that could never change.

“We won’t be walking too far,” Paul added. “Just over by the crofters’ tents.”

He led her through the snow, upon a pathway trod by horses. A layer of ice had frozen on top, and he took her arm to keep her from falling. For a time, they walked together in silence, their breath frosted in the air. “The duke has promised to let them build their homes here.”

“Is your mother dwelling among them?”

He nodded. “And so am I. Until our house is rebuilt.”

She sobered at that. The weather was freezing cold, not at all suited for anyone to sleep in tents. “The children should sleep in the stable until we have more shelters built.”

“Aye, that would be best. We’ll be dividing up the land, and the building will start this morning. Soon enough, they’ll be safe and warm again.” His hand took hers, and the heat of his palm brought her comfort. Yet, when they stood at the top of the hill, overlooking the dozens of tents, she saw the visible signs of loss.

Her family had been displaced by the fire, just as these folk had. It was only because of her sister’s marriage that they had a house to sleep in, instead of thin tents like the crofters. The frigid wind made her grasp the edges of her coat, just imagining it.

And Paul was living among them.

“No one should have to live like this,” she whispered. “It’s too cold to survive.”

“It is,” Paul agreed. “I’ve been tending the sick all winter. And more will die this month. Whether from starvation or cold, it’s all the same.” He pointed toward the rows of tents that had once held a place on her father’s land. “I’ll do what I can to save them.”

She took his arm, leaning against him as they walked. “You’re needed here.”

Especially after all the uprisings. When Lord Strathland had evicted the tenants, they’d had nowhere to go. It was one thing to drive out grown men… but when the elderly and children were forced out into the snow, tempers were rising hotter.

“They should ne’er have been driven off their land to begin with,” he insisted. “Strathland is to blame. Him and his damned sheep.”

The edge in his voice held hostility, and the cold that washed over her had nothing to do with the wintery weather. “He’s too powerful. None of us can stop him.”

“I’ll stop him, Juliette.” He turned, his glare fierce. “I havena forgotten what Strathland did to my father.”

Danger and vengeance simmered within his tone, and she took a step back. “If you raise a hand against Strathland, you’ll only be killed.”

His father’s hanging had cast a pall over all of them. And although His Grace, the Duke of Worthingstone, had acquired Eiloch Hill from the earl after a gambling debt, few of the crofters were eager to live there. There were too many bad memories associated with the land.

“I’m no’ a coward, Juliette. And I’ll see to it that the crofters have all that they need. No man will drive them away from their homes—especially Strathland.”

“What will you do?”

His gaze grew distant. “I’ve a few things in mind. My father’s family was…” His voice drifted off, as if he were reconsidering his words. “That is, my uncle may have some influence.”

Juliette waited for him to continue, but he offered nothing else. A frown furrowed his face, as if his thoughts had gone elsewhere. “The crofters will be fine,” she reassured him. “Now that they’re away from Strathland, they can rebuild their lives.”

“As you will?” he prompted.

Though she knew he was referring to the fire that had destroyed their house, she focused on something else entirely:
away from Strathland.

“Yes,” she answered. She fully intended to be hundreds of miles from Lord Strathland.

Paul led her away from the crofters, and she adjusted the sleeping kitten in her arms. He saw the direction of her attention and asked, “What will you name him?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Do you have any suggestions?”

A mischievous look came over his face. “My suggestions wouldna be appropriate, I fear.” He guided her deeper into the woods, until they were surrounded by trees. Several of the stouter limbs held a cloak of snow.

“We had a wolfhound come to live with us once,” he continued. “You remember what I named him.”

“Horse.” She’d nearly forgotten about the dog, after so long.

“He was the size of one. When I was a lad, I tried to ride him, but the dog didna care for it.”

The thought of Paul attempting to ride the animal amused her. “I don’t suppose he did.”

Juliette studied the kitten and held him up. In a teasing voice, she suggested, “Should I confuse everyone and call him Dog?”

His face softened. “Or you could call him ‘My Mind.’”

At her confusion, he offered, “When he goes off mousing, you could say, ‘My Mind’s gone wandering off’ or ‘I’ve lost My Mind.’”

She groaned at the thought. “That’s terrible.”

“Aye.” His wicked smile warmed her, and she couldn’t resist one of her own. He tucked her arm in his as they kept walking, and his face softened for the barest moment. She found herself
nervous beneath his gaze. “I havena seen you smile in a long time.”

The way he was looking at her now spoke of a man who didn’t plan to remain only friends. Though he didn’t touch her at all, he rested one hand upon a thin birch, his body leaning close to hers. Fear bolted up inside her as the bad memories came roaring back.

“I shouldn’t be out walking with you.” She adjusted the squirming kitten in her arms and started to turn away.

“Wait,” he said. His voice held the commanding air of a man who did not intend to let her go. Then he paused and added, “Please.”

He didn’t understand. He seemed to believe that if he kept pursuing her, eventually she would weaken. Before she could say no, he continued. “I didna ask you here to make you feel cornered, Juliette. But there are things that I would say to you, before you leave Scotland.”

She didn’t want to hear any of it. Already, her skin was prickling with the knowledge that he cared for her. He wanted her, and she had nothing left to give him.

“I wish you’d stay,” he said simply.

“I can’t,” she insisted. Though she’d returned for her sister’s wedding, she needed to be back in London with her son. She could think of no greater joy than to watch Matthew grow up before her eyes. If it were possible, she’d have been his nursemaid. But then, ladies were not supposed to become servants.

The kitten had sunk its claws into her sleeve, and she gently pried it away. “You really should take the kitten back, Dr. Fraser. We don’t have a home now, and I shouldn’t keep him.”