Unraveled By The Rebel

by Michelle Willingham

  “Could I… touch you first?” she ventured. If their roles were reversed, she could be in command. The idea of exploring his shoulders and chest wasn’t at all threatening. Instead, it might be a way to alleviate her own nerves.

  “Aye,” he said. “If it would make you feel better.”

  She rested her hands upon his shoulders, exploring his bare skin. She kept her touch light, and his eyes burned into hers. Then his hands moved to the buttons of her gown.

  “You canna be unfastening these by yourself, Juliette.”

  “No. I’ll need your help.” She allowed him to push at the buttons while she ran her hands over his heart and down his ribs. His broad back held the strength and resilience of a man who had known hardship and overcome it. “I never thought I’d have a wedding night,” she confessed.

  “Especially with me?” he predicted.

  “With anyone. I thought I would be a spinster until the day I died.” She grew distracted when he lifted the gown away, exposing her chemise and petticoat. Though it was not one of the more daring garments, Amelia had given her a rose satin chemise and corset, trimmed with embroidery. The fabric was soft against her breasts, but when she saw the way Paul was staring at her, her body went rigid.

  Then his hands moved to the back of her corset. The heat of his palms made her a little fearful, and she distracted herself by learning the texture of his skin. He asked, “May I remove this?”

  She almost said no, but then, that wasn’t practical. She had no maid, and the only person who could help her undress was Paul.

  “Go slowly,” she pleaded.

  He moved her hair to the side and pressed his mouth to her throat while he loosened the ties of her stays. He freed her from the laces and lifted the corset away.

  She couldn’t stop herself from crossing her arms over her chemise. Though he couldn’t see through the satin, her breasts were tight and aching, the points taut through the fabric.

  Paul stood up and reached for her hands, gently lowering them to her sides. “You’ve no need to hide from me, Juliette.”

  Perhaps not, but shyness reigned over her at the moment.

  His eyes were shielded as he moved his hands up her spine. “You take my breath away, Juliette. And always have.”

  “I have no breath, either,” she confessed. “I feel as if I’m about to faint.”

  Paul led her toward the bed and guided her to sit down on the left side. Strangely, he didn’t press her down, but instead sat at the foot of the bed so that their backs were against one another. “I’ve an idea,” he said. “Look at the wall over there, and I’ll simply tell you what I was wanting to do this night.”

  “But you won’t touch me?” she whispered, lifting her gaze to the faded wallpaper.

  “No’ unless you ask me to.”

  The promise did make her feel better, knowing that he would slow down the pace, giving her a moment to gather her senses.

  “You go first,” he prompted.

  “In what?”

  “Tell me what you were wanting to do to me this night.” He leaned back against her, and the pressure of his bare back against the silk suddenly reminded her of the days when they used to steal away to talk. They had sat on opposite sides of a tree, hidden within a small pine grove. Paul had complained about his frustration at never being able to leave Ballaloch, while she’d complained about her sisters.

  “I’d want to kiss you,” she began.

  “No, you can imagine better than that, lass. Tell me something wicked that you’re wanting to do.”

  He sounded so interested, she couldn’t help but smile. “I’m no’ a wicked lass,” she mocked, using a Highlander accent.

  “We’ll have to be changing that, won’t we? Go on, then. Tell me where you were wanting to put your hands and your mouth.” His left hand reached around and took her right palm in his.

  She was tempted to invent something that wasn’t true. To shock him with words. But in the end, she was too embarrassed to speak. “I suppose I’d want to kiss the space over your heart. To see if your skin is as sensitive as mine.”

  “I’ll lower your chemise and touch your breasts with my hands. Then my mouth,” he countered. “I’d want to see if your nipples grew hard, and I’d want to see how they felt against my tongue.”

  A deep ache rose up between her legs. She imagined the sensation of his heated mouth sucking against her breasts, and she suspected she would like it.

  “I would want to try it with you,” she whispered. “I’d want to know if you would feel the way I do inside.”

  “I’ll touch your ankles, then move my hands higher to take off your stockings,” he said.

  Just the thought of his hands so near to the aching center of her made her heartbeat quicken. Juliette reached beneath her petticoat and unfastened the garters, rolling down one stocking, then the other. The heat of her own palms echoed the visions of her imagination.

  “And after that?” She almost didn’t want to know the answer.

  “Your turn,” he prompted.

  “I’d reach for your breeches and help you unfasten them,” she said quietly. “I’d slide them down, over your hips.”

  He moved against her, and from the rustling noise, she realized that he’d done just that. Was he… naked? Her face went scarlet, and she was struck with curiosity, wanting so badly to know.

  She gingerly moved her hand backward, toward the direction of his thigh. When she touched bare skin, she jerked back as if she’d touched hot coals. Paul laughed, turning to look at her. “Don’t be afraid of me, a chrìdhe. I only did as you asked.”

  He guided her hand to touch him again. “Do what you will with me.” His voice held all the sensual promise of a man who had all the time in the world.

  Juliette hesitated, not knowing whether she should. But she didn’t want to live in fear for the rest of her life. Strathland might have destroyed her innocence, but she didn’t want to remain under that shadow any longer. Women did enjoy sharing a man’s bed; that she knew. Her sister Victoria hadn’t seemed at all displeased by her marriage to the duke. And because of it, she was going to have a baby.

  Paul stroked her hair, and the touch of his hand was comforting. She wanted him to know that she did trust him.

  “I didn’t wed you only to escape Strathland,” she confessed.

  When she turned to kiss him, he responded to her, threading his hands in her hair as his tongue met hers. The kiss was a way of speaking the words she couldn’t yet say.

  “And I didna take you away from your son to hurt you,” Paul added. “It’s safer for him, though.”

  “I know you’re right.” She understood that, though she hadn’t wanted to go. “But I don’t want to think of that right now.” She burrowed her face against his chest, listening to Paul’s heartbeat.

  She could feel every inch of his hard body against hers. Rather than feeling threatened by him, it felt good to be held. His hands continued their lazy, smooth strokes through her hair. As if he didn’t expect anything at all from her.

  Perhaps that was why she suddenly felt the urge to give him something of herself. Slowly, she stood up from the bed. “Close your eyes,” she whispered. “Please.”

  Paul obeyed. In the dim candlelight, his skin was bathed in amber, contrasting against the white sheets.

  Juliette turned her back to him and removed her petticoat first, then her chemise, placing them on the chair. When she was naked, she peeked around and saw that Paul’s eyes were still closed. Although she was nervous about being without her clothes, she slipped beneath the sheet until she was covered from the neck down.

  It felt sinfully wicked, even if he was her husband now.

  “How long do I have to keep them closed?” he asked.

  “You can open them now,” she said. Her voice sounded strange to her, almost as if it were coming from another woman. What did it matter if he saw her without clothes? Now that they were married, it was an intimacy that a husband sh
ould enjoy. She had to overcome her anxiety and trust that he would not take more than she could give.

  He studied her face for a moment, noting the chemise and petticoat on the chair. “You honor me,” he said quietly. “And while I’m wanting to hold you now, to feel your skin against mine, I’ll wait until you’re ready.” He remained leaning upon his side, his eyes dark with desire.

  I’m not ready. I might never be ready, her heart quaked.

  But that was what a coward would say. She couldn’t hide from her worst fears, not if she wanted to start again.

  Let him hold you, her mind coaxed. He’ll stop if you ask him to.

  She rolled away from him and drew his arm around her waist. Though she kept a distance between them, Paul brought his mouth to her shoulder. The moment he kissed her, a thousand shivers took hold over her skin.

  “I’m wanting you closer. Skin to skin,” he warned.

  She forced herself to say nothing, to remain absolutely still. But when she felt the heat of his body pressing against her backside, she went motionless. Against him, she felt so small, his warmth enveloping her.

  “Are you all right?” he murmured.

  “I think so.” She adjusted to the feeling of his body and the hard length of his erection pressed to her spine.

  “Don’t be worrying yourself, lass. I’ll keep my word. But tell me if you’re wanting more,” he said against her skin. His breath sent a fevered shiver over her body, and she felt the aching wetness between her legs.

  All over, she was growing hotter with need. She took his hands and brought his arms around her, so that his forearms crossed her breasts. Her nipples tightened, and she bit her lip against the sensation. For a moment, his hands remained in place. Then he turned her to her back, still keeping his arm over the top of her shoulders. His mouth moved over her throat, descending lower.

  “Tell me if I should stop,” he murmured.

  His mouth drifted lower, over the top of her breasts. She could feel the warmth of his breath pulling at the strings of her inhibitions. He slowly lowered the edge of the sheet. Juliette closed her eyes, unwilling to see his reaction when he bared her breasts.

  “You’re perfect,” he said, reaching up to cup them in his hands. The warmth of his palms against her sensitive skin was a jolt of awareness. And suddenly, it was too much, too soon.

  His thumbs caressed the tips of her breasts, while his mouth moved against the curve of her throat. The touch of his hands was arousing a response that overwhelmed her, and she struggled to breathe.

  She took his hands and drew them away from her breasts. “Paul, stop.”

  He did, though his eyes were searing with hunger. Beneath her hips, she could feel his erection, and the look on his face resembled pain.

  He didn’t move, nor did he speak. Juliette calmed her heartbeat, struggling to gather her composure. She watched him for a moment, thankful that he’d obeyed her without question.

  “It was… too much,” she explained, flushing. Her body was on fire, every part of her sensitive to his touch. She didn’t know how far she could let him go before both of them lost their senses.

  “Will you let me kiss you again?” he asked.

  That, she could allow. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around his neck while he kissed her thoroughly. His tongue slid within her mouth, and she met it with a thrust of her own, trying to tell him without words that she did care. She did want him, no matter that it was dangerous. He pulled her against him, her bare breasts against his chest. His manhood was pressed against her stomach, but although it was erect, she was no longer quite as bothered by it.

  As Paul devoured her mouth, she grew aware that he was rocking against her in a slow rhythm. Warmth blossomed between her legs, and she instinctively pressed herself to him, meeting him as his hips met hers.

  She could feel him against her most intimate center, and the restlessness only grew. Though he didn’t do anything except kiss her, the rhythmic motion evoked a delicious ache. She ought to tell him to stop.

  But she was startled to realize that she didn’t want him to.

  “Juliette,” he whispered in a husky voice. There was raw need in him, as if he were fighting for control. His mouth moved against her throat and above her breasts, drawing lower.

  But he stopped at the curve above her breast. His tongue and lips tempted her, though she was afraid of her own response.

  As she strained against him, he murmured against her skin, “Shall I stop again?”

  She was trembling with every motion, feeling as if she were about to fall into an abyss. His heated breath warmed her skin, and without knowing why, she found herself grinding against him… seeking something. Her body was so hot, her lips swollen. “Not yet. I think… I want more.”

  Her hands gripped his hair, pulling him lower. She was lost in sensation, unable to pull together any clear thoughts—only that she needed him. She guided him down, until at last his mouth fastened upon her nipple.

  A rush of wondrous need poured through her, and she felt an echo between her legs. He pulled gently, his tongue swirling around, and her breath caught, in shuddering gasps. Paul seemed to instinctively know what she wanted, and his palms splayed upon her bottom, lifting her against him until she arched back and pressed hard.

  Between her legs, the intensity of his thrusting erupted with a violence that made her cry out, going liquid with a release like the one he’d given her at the cèilidh. Only this time, it was even more wondrous. She pressed hard against him, and the ecstasy continued, until her body jerked with spasms of shocking heat and pleasure.

  She had gone pliant beneath him, her body feeling as if all the blood had drained away. It was more blissful than anything she’d ever experienced.

  But the look in Paul’s eyes was grim. He was still taut with desire, his body stiff beneath her. Although he had not found his own release, Juliette reached out to touch him. The moment her hand slid down his back, he pulled away. “I think you should go to sleep now,” he said.

  She didn’t argue as he pulled the coverlet over her. But instead of curling up against her, he swung his legs to the side of the bed and crossed the room. A moment later, he donned his clothing.

  “Where are you going?” She’d expected him to sleep beside her, since it had grown dark outside.

  “I’ll be back later” was all he said. After the door closed behind him, she could only wonder when he would return.

  Or if he would return.

  His groin felt as if someone had taken a hammer to it. Paul drained his second mug of ale, but it did nothing to diminish the raging ache. Though he didn’t blame Juliette for not wanting to consummate their marriage, right now, he wanted to be inside his wife. He craved that connection, wanting to join their bodies together.

  The hell with it. He wanted to erase all memories of Strathland. Inside, his blood was hot with fury, and he couldn’t seem to calm it. The earl had known Juliette more intimately. He had claimed her virginity, and because of the violence, she had no desire to ever consummate her marriage.

  It was understandable. If she believed another pregnancy would kill her, why should she want to risk being intimate with him? His body was on the edge, craving it all… and it could mean her death.

  He ordered another mug of ale, hoping he could get drunk enough to pass out. For he couldn’t go back to his wife’s bed. If he slept in the same room with Juliette, he would have his hands upon her, all night long.

  God help him, he’d set himself up for torture. When he’d agreed to her conditions, he’d never imagined the torment would be this great. She’d warned him that she would not share his bed. All along, she’d been clear on her wishes. But he’d underestimated how difficult it would be to keep his hands away.

  “What on earth are ye doing here?” a female voice demanded. “Ye should be abovestairs with yer lady wife, tryin’ to get bairns on her.”

  Paul ignored the innkeeper’s wife, holding out his empty tankard. “Ano
ther.”

  “I’ll no’ be helping a drunkard. Get out of here, and talk to her. Be gentle, and she’ll welcome ye, I’ve no doubt.”

  “Wheesht, woman.” He had no longing to hear her advice on how to handle his wife. Though it was true he’d never taken a woman to bed, he’d already pleasured Juliette twice. He had five years’ worth of ideas in his brain, not that it would do him any good.

  “No woman wants to be alone on her wedding night, that I can tell you.” She went on and on about how Juliette was likely frightened, and even offered to talk to her.

  “There’ll be no need for that,” he said. But he was ready to go anywhere to escape her prattling.

  With disgust, he stood up and tossed a few coins on the table to cover the cost of the ale. It had been over an hour since he’d left Juliette. If she were asleep, he might be able to slip back inside the room without her knowing he was there.

  But when he returned, he spied a candle glowing in the darkness. It spilled over Juliette’s face, like a touch of gold upon her skin.

  “I was hoping you’d come back,” she said gently. “Why did you leave for so long?”

  “Because I had to.” He sat upon the chair, far away from her. The remnants of their evening meal remained, though they’d finished the wine already. “I didn’t trust myself around you.”

  “You stopped when I asked you to.” She sat up, exposing a bare shoulder that he wanted to touch. Reminding him that everything he ever wanted lay beneath a linen sheet.

  “I didn’t want to stop.” He turned toward the window, feeling a chill in the air. “In that moment, I was just like the earl. I wanted to thrust inside of you, no matter what words I’d vowed.”

  She paled, crossing her arms over her chest. It was right that she should be afraid, after what he’d just confessed. He wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted him to sleep downstairs or on the floor.

  But then she exhaled slowly, as if gathering courage. “You wanted to. But you didn’t.”