She wanted to wed Paul; truly, she did. But there was a sense that her life was about to change in a profound way.
When Mrs. MacKenzie unwrapped the gown, Juliette drew in her breath at the sight of it. Made of silk, the short-sleeved gown was a rich burgundy color. The bodice was trimmed with ribbon and pearls, befitting a baron’s daughter. It was the sort of gown she might have worn had she married a duke or an earl.
“Och, but it’s a bonny color with your hair.” Mrs. MacKenzie sighed. “I canna wait to see it on ye.” She helped raise the gown over Juliette’s head, buttoning it up over her stays. There were long white gloves to accompany the garment and matching slippers. No doubt, the cost of the gown and accoutrements had been dear. But Paul had tried to give her something to make the day special. And despite the dreary weather and the unusual circumstances, she was looking forward to becoming his wife.
“There now, ye look like a proper bride,” Mrs. MacKenzie pronounced. “Are ye ready?”
“I am.” At least, she thought so. She was terribly nervous inside, hoping she would not let Paul down. He’d been so good to her, and she wanted this to be a strong marriage.
She followed Mrs. MacKenzie back to the chapel, where the minister awaited them. Paul stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He was staring at the stained glass windows, and as she returned from the sacristy, he turned. The expression on his face was of a man transfixed. He regarded her as if she were the answer to so many years of loneliness. And when she dared a smile, he held out his hand.
He was her best friend, and he was about to become her husband. Even as a young girl, she’d dreamed of this day.
And as the minister spoke the words binding them together, Juliette made a vow of her own.
I will try to be the wife you wanted.
Paul heard none of the words spoken by the minister. He gave his vows, but his mind was not on the ceremony—only on the night ahead. Though he would not consummate the marriage, he wondered if Juliette would ever learn to trust him. She had a slight smile on her face during the wedding, and that gave him hope.
He leaned forward to give her a kiss of peace and found that her hands were freezing. He rubbed them, and the minister gave a final blessing.
After they signed the parish register, it seemed odd to think that he’d married her at last. That this girl, whom he’d loved for so long, was now his. All because of a few vows made and ink upon paper.
He led her outside, and thankfully, the rain had stopped. Juliette stopped a moment and turned to him. Although her face still held the smile, she met his gaze and admitted, “I can’t believe we’re married now. It’s not at all the way I thought I’d feel.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” he confessed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I ate an entire cherry tart by myself.”
It wasn’t at all what he’d expected her to say. “Deliciously wicked? Or like you’re about to have a stomachache?” he prompted, hoping it was the former.
“A little of both, maybe.” Her voice held traces of nervousness, but she took his hands and drew them to her waist. “I’m glad of it.”
He kissed her lightly, and when she returned it, his mind conjured the vision of being able to kiss her for as long as he wanted to. And aye, he was nervous, too. His instincts had served him well before, but tonight would be very different.
Juliette let him help her inside the coach, then wondered aloud, “Where is the driver?”
“I sent him ahead to prepare our room at the inn. He borrowed a horse from the minister.” A trace of guilt caught him, that he still hadn’t revealed the truth to Juliette about his inheritance and title. But he wanted their first night together with nothing to come between them. She would learn the truth when they reached Edinburgh.
“And you’re going to drive us now?” she ventured. She rubbed at her arms, and he saw the slight rise of gooseflesh upon them. The wind had lifted from the grass and was bringing a chill with it.
“I will, aye. You can stay inside the coach and be warm for both of us.”
Instead, she stepped out and approached the driver’s seat. “Help me up, won’t you?”
Paul reached down and boosted her up. “You want to sit beside me?”
“I did just marry you,” she reminded him. “It seems like a more appropriate place to be.”
Paul drew her cloak around her shoulders and brought a blanket to cover both of their laps. “I waited for this day for five years,” he admitted. He’d known, from the first, that Juliette was the woman fated for him. “And I want to set your fears to rest about tonight and every night thereafter. I’ll never force you into anything you don’t want.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “I know that, Paul.” She leaned her head against him, and he brought his arm around her.
Over the next hour, the afternoon drifted into evening. He drove north, bringing the coach to stop at the inn. His driver came out to greet them and took their belongings inside.
“Why do you want to live in Edinburgh?” Juliette asked. “Is it because of your uncle?”
Tell her now, his conscience urged. This was the perfect chance. And yet, he found himself not wanting to spoil the simplicity of this day. He wanted one night with her where they could simply be man and wife.
“In a manner of speaking,” he hedged. “My uncle left me his house when he died. I thought we’d live there for a while.” He said nothing else, letting her draw her own conclusions.
“I’m sorry to hear about his passing,” she said. “You never told me of it.”
“I only learned of it a short time ago.” He cleared his throat, adding, “But I hope you’ll be comfortable living there.”
She nodded, and the innkeeper led them upstairs to their room. Inside, there was a small bed and a table pushed against one wall. Two chairs awaited them, along with a wedding supper of cheese, bread, meat, and wine. A small covered silver dish contained the surprise he’d arranged for her.
“This is lovely.” She smiled at him, taking off her bonnet while he closed the door.
“And this is for you.” He gestured toward the silver container, hoping she would be pleased by it.
As soon as she uncovered the dish, Juliette’s eyes brightened. “Custard.” She eyed it with unabashed longing.
Paul found a spoon and dipped it into the dish, offering it to her. Juliette ate it, closing her eyes as she savored the taste. His mouth went dry at the sight of her, for she looked like a woman well-pleasured.
“More?” he offered.
“Oh, yes,” she said with a sigh. His skin tightened with the sudden image of Juliette naked while he licked custard from her bare skin. “Please.”
He gave her the spoon, and she indulged in another bite. Heat roared through him at the sight of her, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“How did you ever get the money for all this?” Juliette asked, holding out a spoonful to him. “You went to a lot of trouble for me.”
“I wanted you to enjoy your wedding day,” he said, shrugging. “And as I said, my uncle left me an inheritance.”
Now, the voice reminded him again. Tell her everything. But still he held his silence.
“The custard is even better than a wedding cake. It was always my favorite.” She smiled, taking the spoon back. Paul leaned in to kiss her, and her lips tasted of sweet custard, with a hint of spices he could not name.
“You’re distracting me from my dessert,” she said against his lips. But there was a smile in her tone, as if she didn’t mind. “Are you as hungry as I am?”
He nodded, but it wasn’t food on his mind. He wanted his wife upon the bed. He wanted to remove the clothes from her body, kissing every inch of her.
You can’t, the voice of reason interjected.
“Then eat,” she said, breaking off a piece of cheese and feeding it to him. He caught her fingers and sucked at the end of one, swirling it with his tongue. It was too strong an urge to re
sist.
The shocked expression on her face gave rise to a blush. “Paul, I didn’t mean you should nibble at my fingers. Not when there’s perfectly good food,” she teased.
“Is there?” He took her hand and kissed her palm, bringing it to rest on his cheek.
She went motionless. “I thought you said we wouldn’t—”
“Aye. But I never said I wouldn’t tempt you.”
She froze, paling at his words. He reached for the bread and tore off a piece, handing it to her. “Did I hurt you when I kissed you? Or when I touched you that night at the cèilidh?”
“No.” Her voice was the barest whisper, her eyes wide.
“Then trust that nothing I do will hurt you.” He removed his coat and waistcoat until he wore only a linen shirt and breeches. She was staring at him as if she’d found herself caught in a trap of her own making. “We’re married now,” he reminded her. “You’re going to see a lot more of me than this.”
He poured a cup of wine for each of them and held it out. “Drink.”
“Are you trying to get me foxed?”
“Not at all. Simply giving you something to quench your thirst.” He filled a plate and offered it to her. “You could take your shoes off.”
“I’m comfortable as I am.”
She was putting up walls again, and he realized that they had different expectations for this marriage. “I’m not meaning to frighten you, lass. But neither am I going to behave like a man who has no wife. There are some things I’m wanting from you, even if we are no’ lovers.”
“What do you mean?” She eyed the door as if she were considering fleeing the room.
“I won’t be having an English marriage with separate rooms.” Her brow furrowed, and he continued. “You’ll no’ be sleeping in your own room. You’ll sleep beside me, as a proper wife does.”
“Oh.” She eyed him as if expecting him to ask for more. “My parents shared a room, before my father went to war. I suppose that would be all right.”
“What are you wanting from me?” he asked. “In this marriage, I mean.”
She studied him a moment, breaking off another piece of cheese and offering it to him. “I want to put the past behind me and start over. Living with my best friend,” she added.
Not to mention, he would grant her protection from the earl. But he saw in her the desire for a second chance. The hope in her eyes was strong, and he wanted to believe in it.
“And beyond that?” He drank a sip of wine and offered her a piece of cold mutton, teasing, “Surely you’ll want to take all of my coins and spend them, as most women do.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “I’ll manage your money, but I’ve no need to spend it all.”
“Now you’re lying,” he remarked. “You want to get your hands all over my—”
“No!” she blurted out. “That’s not what I—”
“—accounting ledgers,” he finished. When her face turned crimson, he laughed aloud. “What were you thinking I was going to say, lass?”
She threw a piece of cheese at him. “Stop teasing me.” He picked up the cheese and ate it before he came to kneel beside her.
“We both know how much you adore ink and paper,” he said. “And keeping accounts. I thought I’d give you all of my money to manage.”
Her face softened. “You’re not teasing me now, are you? You’re speaking the truth?”
“Aye. If it would make you happy.”
She drew her arms around him and pressed a kiss against his mouth. “It would, yes.”
Her response pleased him, and now she seemed more relaxed about being with him.
“I’m going to remove your boots,” Paul told her. “If you’ll allow it.”
Juliette lifted the hem of her gown and held out her boot. He unfastened the buttons and eased the first one off, then the second. When she was in her stockings, he pulled her foot into his lap, rubbing it softly. She leaned back, but her leg muscles tensed at his touch.
“No one has ever done this for me,” she confessed.
“We’ve been traveling for a long time. Let me tend to you.” He rubbed the insoles of her feet, using his thumbs to stroke her.
She was tensing at every touch, and though he tried to gentle his hands, she was biting her lip hard.
When he grazed the center of her foot, at last, she let out a shriek. “You’re tickling me. I can’t stand it.”
He hadn’t expected her to say that, and he let go. “It was no’ my intent to torture you.”
“I know.” But she withdrew her feet and stood up. “I won’t do the same to you. But would you like me to… rub your shoulders? My mother sometimes did that for my father.”
He gave a nod, unbuttoning his shirt and lifting it over his head. “I would like your hands on me, very much indeed.”
The air within their room felt heavier, almost heated in intensity. Juliette had never before seen Paul without a shirt, and it startled her to see the carved muscles upon his shoulders. He had a workingman’s body, of one who had done his share of heavy lifting and labor.
Have courage, she told herself. Touching him gave her the power of controlling the storm of emotions gathering within. She reached out, resting her hands on either side of his neck, and found that his skin was warmer than she’d expected, smooth and hard. Her fingers found the tension there, and when she began to move her hands over him, he sucked in a breath of air.
But he didn’t ask her to stop. She explored his back, finding the knots of tension by touch. As she’d seen her mother do, she used her thumbs to gently press against him, finding a way to release the pain.
“Take your hair down,” he said quietly.
She moved her hands back, pulling the pins free and laying them upon the table. There was no need to ask why. He wanted intimacy with her, to know her as a husband should. And this, at least, was no threat at all.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. I’m wanting your hands upon me for as long as you want them there.” He guided them back to his shoulders. “You could touch my neck, too.”
She did, finding even more tension there. Her hair spilled over one of his shoulders, and he took the strands, lifting them to his nose. “You smell like summer, Juliette.”
Gently, he guided her around to sit upon his lap. Both of his arms came around her, and he moved his mouth to hover above hers. Though he didn’t kiss her, she recognized the invitation.
This time, she brought his mouth down to hers, initiating the kiss. His lips were familiar, a welcoming presence.
But somehow, there was more. As she kissed him, his hands drifted into her hair, gathering the locks and resting upon her nape. She felt his arousal beneath her, and her first instinct was to run.
He held her steady, pulling back. “I gave my word, Juliette. You’ve naught to fear.” He kissed her temple, running his mouth along her jaw. “It’s only the reaction of a man who desires you.”
Paul kept his hands loosely around her, and when she started to sit up, his hardened length nestled against her. This gown was far too thin, and she recognized the familiar ache between her legs. It was just like the time when he’d touched her at the cèilidh. He leaned to kiss her again, and his hands moved around her waist. “Don’t be afraid of my touch, Juliette.”
His voice mesmerized her, his midnight-blue eyes staring into her own. “There can be pleasure between us, even if I’m no’ inside you. You ken this.”
When he moved again, she felt his length touching a secret place within her. She was growing wet between her legs, and her breasts were tight, the nipples forming hard nubs.
“I remember,” she whispered. And yet, she couldn’t stop the unwanted memories from intruding. The violence of the rape, and the way the earl had forced himself within her, overlaid this moment. She was trembling, so afraid of the feelings he’d evoked. But Paul would never hurt her. She trusted in that.
“Let me undress you,” he commanded. “Let me t
ouch you the way I’m wanting to.”
Juliette didn’t know what to say. Although he’d caressed her in secret that night, the idea of baring herself to Paul made her fear that he’d want to claim her with a husband’s right.
“I don’t know if we should,” she hedged. She was nervous about letting him see her without any clothes, though she knew it was only natural. What if he demanded more of her and lost control of himself? She remembered too well how she’d forgotten herself that night at the cèilidh.
But a secret part of her had also delighted in his touch.
“You are in command of me, Juliette.” He captured her mouth again, kissing her hard until she was breathless. “If you’ll allow it, I want to bring you pleasure with my hands and my mouth.”
She hesitated, tempted by a forbidden desire. The last time Paul had touched her, she’d been overwhelmed by sensation. He’d sensed what she wanted, until her body had shuddered beneath his hands.
A wicked voice inside was urging her now to surrender. She’d promised herself that she would try to be a good wife, and all he wanted was to touch her a little. Surely there could be no harm in that?
“Strathland stole your innocence and gave you naught but nightmares,” Paul said. “Let me give back to you what was taken.”
“What do you want from me?” she whispered.
He drew her to stand up. “I’ll remove the gown, but you’ll keep your chemise and petticoat on. That is, until you’re ready for me to learn every part of your body.”
His words painted a sensual picture, and she imagined his hands upon her. She gripped the edges of the gown, braving a courage she didn’t feel.
“I don’t want the memory of him intruding on what we have together,” he said. “I want to cast out those demons this night and start anew.”
The thought of standing here and submitting to his touches only heightened her anxiety. She didn’t see how it could possibly make things better. Although he had never harmed her, and she had felt a shuddering release when he’d touched her before, somehow this night was different.
Unraveled By The Rebel Page 23
