Unraveled By The Rebel (42 page)

“Why would you do this?” she demanded.

“To prove a point,” Strathland said calmly, loading another bullet. “That I won’t allow you to control me in any way.” He stretched out his hand, beckoning to her. “You’re coming with me now. We’re going to speak with the man who calls himself your husband.”

“He
is
my husband,” Juliette said, still trying to stop the bleeding. Her mind harked back to the moment when Paul had been unable to save the wounded crofter, and she prayed her father would not meet the same fate. The wound was in his calf, and she didn’t think it was too bad. But the flesh was ragged and torn open by the bullet.

“You made a mistake in marrying Fraser. You belong to me and always have,” the earl said calmly. “And I will no longer allow you to make your own decisions. You will do as I order, if you value the lives of those you love.”

All of the pent-up rage flooded her veins. His arrogance held no bounds. “I will
never
belong to you, Lord Strathland. Never.”

“You will,” he insisted. “Unless you want your husband to die a painful death.” His smug expression revealed his intentions. He fully intended to torment Paul until she did exactly as he commanded.

This man had pulled the strings of her life for so long, forcing her to do his will. She’d lived in the shadow of fear, losing herself and her own dreams. And suddenly, she saw the madness beneath. He thrived upon controlling others, believing it made him superior. But no longer would she play that game.

“No.” She straightened, meeting his gaze fully. “I won’t be used like that. You hold no power over me.”

“Don’t I?” He held up the loaded pistol, nodding toward her wounded father.

No. He didn’t. Strangely, her fear had dissipated. Lord Strathland could indeed pull the trigger. But ending their lives would accomplish nothing.

Slowly, she took a step toward him. “You can shoot me, if that’s your wish. And then you’ll have nothing at all.” Another step forward, until she stood with the pistol pointed directly at her heart. She held her breath, forcing herself to bluff. “I’m not afraid to die.”

It wasn’t true, but if he’d gone to all of this trouble to lure her here, he likely wasn’t planning to kill her. At this moment, she had nothing at all to lose by confronting him. She would fight for her husband’s life.

“I like the way you fight me,” he said, his voice edged with lust. “I’ll let all of them go, if you give yourself over to me,” he said, his eyes burning with madness. “One word… and I’ll take you away from here. We’ll live somewhere far away.”

He believed in that fantasy, of possessing her. There could be no reasoning with a madman. “I know that I can be… intimidating.” His hand cupped her cheek, and his brown eyes darkened with desire. “But it’s only because I am strong-willed. I’ll take care of you, and you, in turn, will learn to love me. Especially when you’ve come to accept your place as my wife.”

The look in his eyes was dangerous, and an unbidden fear took root. His hand moved down to her throat, his thumb caressing.

She said nothing, understanding that his vanity was the key to Paul’s freedom. “Put the weapon down,” she said softly. “You don’t need it.”

“No. I don’t.” He set the pistol down and seized her arm, dragging her to him. He gripped her shoulders tightly, and the shock of his touch reawakened a thousand nightmares through her. Juliette clenched her teeth against the fear, reminding herself that she was not alone. There were others who could help her.

“I took you once before,” the earl said hotly. “You haven’t the strength to fight against me.”

Not then, she didn’t. But she did now.

She moved her left hand behind her back, reaching toward the last button that was undone. Her palm closed over the dirk her father had given her.

In one swift motion, she brought the tip to his throat. “But I brought a weapon of my own this time.”

His wife was holding a blade to Strathland’s throat. Paul remained in the shadows, with Cain on the opposite side. A few feet away, he saw Juliette’s father holding a handkerchief to a bleeding wound.

Instinct demanded that he rush forward and pull Juliette back before the earl could hurt her. But a sharp look from Cain held him back. No, she was in command now.

“You’re too weak to kill me,” Strathland said. “You won’t do it.”

“Won’t I?” Juliette pressed against the blade, and a line of blood appeared against Strathland’s throat. “Your death would free all of us.”

“My sister knows about our son,” he threatened. “If I die, she’ll reveal that he’s a bastard. What do you think will happen to him then?”

She gave an imperceptible flinch, correcting herself as she said, “I have no son.”

The earl held himself motionless. “Matthew is his name, am I right? And he was born almost nine months after I took you.”

Juliette’s hand began to shake, and Paul saw her father sit up. He struggled to rise to his feet, holding the handkerchief to his wounded leg. His complexion was gray, but his voice was iron. “What is he talking about, Juliette?”

She pushed against the blade and faced the earl. “You might have attacked me. But I have no child and never did.”

“Lady Arnsbury is barren,” he argued.

“Was,” she countered. “And I swear to you that the only child I’ve ever had is the one I’m carrying now.” Her hand moved to her flat stomach, and Paul’s lungs tightened. It was far too soon for that, and he wondered if she was telling a lie to taunt the earl. He hoped to God she was, for he knew the danger.

The earl moved suddenly, and the knife went flying from Juliette’s hand. “The boy is mine. I know it, and I’ll not let him be raised as another man’s son.” He backhanded her, and Juliette stumbled to the ground. Her hand automatically went to protect her stomach, and Paul moved in, unsheathing his blade. “Juliette, move away.”

She obeyed without question, relief in her eyes at the sight of him.

“You and I have a score to settle,” he said to the earl. He’d waited for this moment almost all his life, it seemed. Now that it was here, his focus sharpened. Strathland was an older man with a thick build. Though his enemy would lack speed, Paul knew he possessed cunning in full measure.

The earl lunged toward the pistol, but Paul threw himself at the man before he could reach the weapon. Hatred and rage coursed through him as he seized Strathland. This was what he wanted—to end the man who had caused so much harm. They grappled together, and although the earl was strong, he wasn’t fast. Paul slipped free and used his legs to trip the earl, dragging him down. He didn’t feel anything when he hit the floor, he was so driven by the need for vengeance.

The blade Juliette had dropped was close by. He could almost reach it…

But Strathland saw it first. His fist closed over the hilt, but before he could stab downward, Paul lashed out with all his
strength. He struck the man’s ear, then followed through with a blow to the earl’s nose.

He fought with all of his strength, twisting Strathland’s wrist behind him until he was forced to drop the dirk.

“You’re nothing,” Strathland growled. “And you’ll die knowing that I had her first.”

The words only fueled Paul’s rage, pushing him over the edge into a sea of violence. His knuckles bled as he crushed them against the earl’s face, following up with another blow to the man’s gut. Although Strathland struggled to free himself, Paul held him fast.

For my father,
he thought silently, as he rolled over and caught the man in a chokehold. His heated revenge transformed into icy hatred. Now was the moment he’d waited for… to watch as his enemy’s breath left him.

For Juliette,
he thought. He squeezed the life from the earl with the crook of his elbow against the man’s windpipe. Strathland fought hard, his hands pulling at Paul’s arm. Gradually, his body grew limp from the lack of air.

“Paul, stop,” Juliette said.

He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to continue cutting off the man’s air until there was nothing left. “He deserves to die after what he did to you. To all of us.”

“Killing him will only bring the magistrate down upon us,” she said. She moved forward and touched his arm, kneeling beside him. “I won’t let them hang you for murder. Let go before he’s dead.” Her fingers passed over his shoulder, and though he didn’t want to grant any mercy at all, the quiet conviction in Juliette’s eyes made him obey.

Though Strathland was unconscious now, his nose bleeding, and likely he had a few broken ribs, it didn’t seem like enough. The desire to slit the man’s throat or put a bullet through his brain was too strong. Seeing him touch Juliette had driven him past reason.

“I won’t leave him here,” Paul insisted. “He has to pay for what he’s done.”

“And he will. But I know a better way that he will suffer, without our laying a hand upon him.” She reached out and collected the fallen knife and the pistol. Cain emerged from the shadows, and she handed him the weapons. At that moment, the two men who had held Paul captive hurried forward.

“Don’t move,” Cain warned. As soon as the men saw the earl’s unconscious form, they raised their hands up in surrender. “Do what you will with Lord Strathland,” one said. “I don’t care if he dies.”

The other man nodded toward the door, asking silent permission to leave. Cain stepped aside and let them go.

Paul moved toward Juliette’s father and examined the gunshot wound. It wasn’t too serious, and the bullet had only grazed the calf. He adjusted the makeshift bandage, intending to treat it when they brought her father back home again.

“What do you want to do with Strathland?” he asked his wife. The idea of granting the man mercy was impossible to consider.

“Take him to the most isolated place in Scotland, and strand him where there’s no water,” Juliette suggested. “He won’t survive it.”

Paul exchanged a look with her father, whose face was tight with pain. The man gave a slight nod, agreeing with his daughter. “It’s a reasonable idea.”

“And what if he does live?” Paul demanded. “He won’t stop until he’s had his vengeance upon us.”

“Look at him,” she said. “He has no wool to sell, and the debtors will come to take this house from him. He has nothing at all. Even if he did live, he’d spend the remainder of his days in poverty.”

Though her words were logical, it wasn’t enough to atone for the earl’s crimes. “Why would you ever show mercy to this man?” he demanded. “After all that he’s done.”

“Because if he dies at your hands, the consequences are too great. I love you, and I can’t let you suffer for what he’s done to us. I need you to live, Paul. Especially now.” She moved into his arms, holding tightly to him.

He stroked her hair and drew his hand down to her waist in silent question. Though it was far too soon to tell, he suspected she had missed her menses. If she was pregnant, then she was putting her life and the baby’s life in his hands. There could be no greater task than to keep them both alive.

“We’ll return to Edinburgh together. Just you and I,” Juliette promised. She held out her hand, and in her eyes, he saw the longing. “I trust you to keep me safe.”

“I swear to you, I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

She put her hand in his and met his gaze. “Promise me you won’t interfere with Strathland’s exile. I need you with me.” She rose up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “And if I die in childbirth, I’ll need you to be there for our child.”

“T
hank God you’re back,” Juliette breathed, pulling back the coverlet. It was an hour before dawn, and Paul had only just returned. He’d been gone for two days.

He’d traveled with Mr. Sinclair, taking the earl far to the north, hundreds of miles from any of the clans. They had drugged Strathland with a high dose of laudanum to keep him unconscious throughout the journey.

“It’s done now. Sinclair took him a little farther and sent me back here.” He stripped away his clothing and slid into bed beside her.

“I don’t believe he’ll survive,” she admitted. “He’s too accustomed to luxury. I doubt if he even knows how to find food in such an isolated place.”

“Likely not.” His arms slid around her, and she closed her eyes at the comfort of his hard body next to hers. She wore a nightgown, but the heat of his skin made her skin sensitive. His hands moved over her breasts, then lower to her stomach. “How long has it been since your monthly?”

“Six weeks,” she whispered. “As far as I can remember.” She caught his hands and rolled over to face him. “It might not be true.”

His hands moved lower, to the hem of her nightgown. He raised it up, his hands moving over her bare flesh. “I think I should examine you. As your physician.”

She might have smiled, if she weren’t uneasy about the truth. “If I am pregnant, it must have been that time when we—”

“Shh.” He pulled back the coverlet and helped her remove the nightgown. Naked, she lay against him, skin upon skin. His
hands moved down her arms, to her breasts. Gently, he touched them, running his thumbs over the puckered nipples.

“They do feel different,” he said. “They’re thicker and slightly enlarged.” He pressed his mouth to one breast, his tongue circling the nipple. She shuddered, wincing at the touch. “And more sensitive, aren’t they?”