The odd theatrics between horse, dog and harridan made the children laugh. And Juliet couldn’t help but laugh, too. Had Crims trained the horse with his whistle?
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t let her abuse the girl—” Juliet said.
“You’ve done a service that is long overdue,” said Caroline. “I’m ashamed I didn’t say something myself.”
Joshua beamed with approval and, for one moment her breath halted and the rest of the world melted away. Naked hunger and longing swam in the depths of his brilliant blue eyes. He reached out…stroked her cheek.
Her heartbeat quickened even more. Had she uncovered a tiny crack in his armor? She would chisel it apart, chink by chink.
Chapter Thirty-Two
A wind blew, kicking up her skirts. Scudding dark clouds strutted across the sky. Sheets flapped like seagull wings as Juliet pinned the last of the laundry to the line. An air of unreality choked Juliet, thinking on the wild, tumultuous events leading her from England. The life-altering nightmare blurred with the consequences of her recent impulsive actions, casting her in a direction she feared—irrevocably back to England.
Despite the moments of hope, the gulf between her and Joshua had grown as large as the ocean. Yet in the dark entrails of despair, the remembrance of what had been left unsaid between them, of distant echoes of emotion, of silent flashes in his tormented eyes, remained…a tenuous filament between them. A bond that couldn’t be denied.
Juliet numbered the many startling contrasts of Lord Joshua Rutland, the highly intelligent, principled, and tenacious man. Honorable to a fault, he adhered to a code of ethics seeking out truth and knowledge beyond his advocacy of the Revolution. It would be a part of his legacy.
What others might find pushy or callous, Juliet viewed through a different lens. She observed a man whose inner strength and integrity created trust and respect among his peers in the Colonies. Through discomfort and pain, he never gave up, assessing problems and coming up with solutions, taunting the face of impossibility that kept them safe during their escapes. And to Joshua, there was nothing more powerful than his promise. He would choose death before breaking his word.
A smile came to her face, how her warrior played with the Bell children, wrestling the entire brood to the ground. How every single one of them piled on top of him, and then booming with the mighty roar of a bear, he lifted, and they fled screaming to return moments later to start their play again.
Oh, how she understood his other side. Self-righteous? Relentless? Merciless? At the Hayes’ farm he’d defended her…taken on Horace and Orpha at jeopardy to his trade. Hadn’t he taken on Onontio, defeating the brave in front of the whole tribe? In a room full of British officers, and surrounded by the thick walls of his enemy at Fort Oswego, hadn’t he gambled with the dangerous act of espionage?
Yet his need for control…to send her to England…that judgmental decision of his seemingly made for her safety. No. His decision came from a darker place—of fear and shame and it had to do with Sarah.
His pack had been carelessly deposited near a stump while he went up on the mountain to chop trees with James and Thomas. The question remained. What made Joshua so angry and cold? Why did he feel compelled to send her back to England?
Unchained ends dangled, mysteries shouted, contradictions swarmed and remained unanswered. She inched closer to Joshua’s pack, scanning to see if anyone was near. The younger Bell children were taking a nap and the older girls studied their lessons. The steady sounds of an ax echoing from the woods up above indicated the men were busy.
She bit her lip. Not once had she snooped in her life. Joshua was taking her to Albany. This was her one opportunity. She sat on the stump, rearranging her skirts. Opening the bag, she reached inside and drew out a handkerchief. She fingered the lace-edged handkerchief soiled from so much handling. How many times had she witnessed Joshua inhaling its scent when he was unaware of her watching him?
She drew out a letter and unfolded it. The number of wrinkles in the missive indicated how many times the note had been opened and reopened. Globules of red-brown stained the paper. She drew back. Blood?
A burning sensation rose in her chest and she pushed it away. Above the cloud cover remained. A fissure opened, and rays of sunlight poured from the sky. The letter was the key to healing Joshua’s wounds. She bent her head and commenced reading.
Joshua hummed a tune. Two trees had been felled and five cords of wood chopped, putting the Bells well ahead of their winter labors. As he made his way down the mountain he thought of Juliet.
Juliet was different. Her wild heart saw blessings where most experienced millstones round the neck, and if one thing was for certain; her smile took on the same radiance as a whole tree of apple blossoms.
How brave she was when confronted with treachery. The enslavement she suffered sold into indenture, and consequent cruelty of Orpha and Horace. Witnessing a massacre, she did not think of herself. She cared for Mary, helping her get through the punishing ordeal of Onontio.
He recalled her humiliation when he arrived at Tionnontigo, tied to a stake, suffering the cruel barbs and punishment of the village women. How she endangered her own life to bring the chief’s son into the world. He remembered how hard he pushed her through the wilderness at a brutal pace. How she saved his life, helping him escape death from Fort Oswego. Without a doubt, she was loyal to those she cared about.
But most of all, he recalled her bravery the night she made solemn vows to become a complete stranger’s wife—his wife.
He ceased humming. It was not the real reason for the twinge of guilt causing his chest to tighten, and that fact bothered him. She’d be leaving him soon. She’d be gone as soon as they traveled to Albany. He’d arrange reliable passage to Boston and authorize his uncle to secure her passage to England.
This was exactly what he had planned. He should be grateful. The whole ordeal would soon be over. She’d be protected. He’d have his life back. Just the way he wanted it.
Except he wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore.
With his ax on his shoulder, he passed the last copse of trees, leading into the clearing of the Bells’ home. He expected to see Juliet playing with the children. Instead, in her linen day dress, she sat on a stump…a letter in her hands. His heart stalled. His blood boiled. He stomped to her side and snatched the letter. “You dare to read my private correspondence?”
“I dare.”
She shot to her feet, defiance thundering in every bone of her body. A second later, her eyes softened. “I know. I understand your fear and your shame.”
“Do not say another word, Juliet.” He closed the distance between them, stared down at her beautiful face…and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her or wrap his hands around her slender white throat and throttle her. “You have no business.”
“Concealment is a game we undertake, yet our secrets are surely revealed by what we want to seem to be as what we disguise. Sarah Thacker did not simply die, she was tortured to death.”
He jerked back as if she’d slapped him. Then, eyes narrowing, hands clenched, he said, “Be quiet, Juliet!”
“There is fear and rage boiling in your soul, Joshua. It is infested, like gangrene, eating away at you.”
He gripped the ax in his hands and closed his eyes. “I was responsible for her…she died because of me…of who I am.”
“Should I fill myself with insidious poisons as you have? Sustain myself with fear as you do? To keep your Sarah on a sacrificial altar and pretend the rest of the world does not exist.”
A furnace of rage roared up inside him, its destructive force verged on eruption. He beat it back, certain that once unleashed it would devour his sanity. And in the midst of this whirling, red-hot fury stood Juliet. He wished that numbness would overcome him. He wished he did not see and hear and feel so clearly, and yet he could not escape the riot of images before him. Sarah, bloody and tortured. Juliet and Sarah, alternating faces, both meeting the
same fate.
He opened his eyes, glared at Juliet as if she were some bizarre creature, a curiosity, distorted and repulsive. “Get away from me, Juliet. I can’t stand the sight of you. Get away from me before I do something I regret.”
With a loud growl, he smashed the ax into the stump and cracked it in half.
Juliet froze. Her knees shook. Good Lord, what was she thinking, pushing him to his limits like that? How stupid.
Stupid. God, she’d been even more than stupid, believing her own fantasies. Bitterness rose in her throat. She turned and ran before she made a further fool of herself.
She ran and ran, tears flowing, arms thrashing at the air and the invisible visions of a life that would be out of her reach. It was her fault for having dared to dream, to be that susceptible, that vulnerable.
Not knowing or caring which way she went, she pushed through rough undergrowth. Trees, bushes and branches barred her path on every side. Thorn bushes snagged her hair and ripped her clothes. Rough branches tore at her hands and arms. A prison to hold her back. But she had to get away, far, far away and kept pushing on, farther and farther.
Out of breath, she leaned against a tree and wept. Collapsing to the ground, she wept for the mother she never knew, wept for the loveless life she had, wept for the all unfairnesses bestowed on her head. Even now in this alien land, she had come to love…again that love had been ripped from her.
Finally, her tears spent, she sat up. A clarity suddenly shone through the dark forests of her mind. No. she would not allow it. She would not be a pawn at someone else’s whim. Never again. She would not go back to England. No, she would not. There was nothing for her there. Somehow, she would find a place in this New World.
The forest became silent around her, except for a few birds chirping. For a long time, she sat lost in sorrow for the way things were and for the way things were not meant to be. Her mind alternating between new resolve and her shattered dreams, the tears came again and with them, more sobs. That ugly loneliness swelled and heaved, then through the stillness, the regular beat of quiet footsteps. A bush stirred and Joshua knelt in front of her.
“Juliet.”
He followed. Why? Why couldn’t he let her alone to deal with her pain and misery? She wanted to beat his chest with all the wrongs incurred on her. Yet her arms lay leaden at her sides. She lifted her head. Faced him. Opened her mouth to tell him to go away, but the words clogged in her throat.
“Why are you here, Joshua?”
“Because you can’t leave me alone.”
In a half-haze, suddenly she was in his arm. He drew her closer, cushioned her against his warm chest, her mouth buried deep against musky, beloved flesh. His words had sounded like a cry for help, a beseechment.
“Why do you torture me like this?” He raised his head and stared wildly into her eyes.
Ignoring the burning ache in her throat, Juliet cleaved to him. Within her embrace his heavy frame twisted with spasms as he fought with his violent inner demons.
“Let it come,” she murmured, cradling his head on her shoulder. “Let it come.” Whispering comfort and love, she consoled him and waited, waited, waited patiently for the turbulence to subside, for the demons to retreat, for his body to still. Then she framed his tortured face between her palms and kissed him. Her eyes filled with tears. “I love you, Joshua.”
“I couldn’t keep her safe…if I couldn’t protect her, how can I protect anyone else?” He shuddered. “I love you, Juliet. But do not love me.”
He loved her. He had said it.
But his face contorted again. “How can I protect you? Snapes told me in the gaol at Fort Oswego he was going to kill you, do the same thing he did to Sarah.”
Oh, God. The realization hit her like a punch to the stomach. Snapes? The signature on the letter was signed, “MS”. Milburn Snapes. Joshua had told her of his vendetta against the Rutland family. Her blood chilled.
No. “You will not push me away. I will not allow you to be driven into hiding by real or imagined fear, pinned there by a deluded acceptance you’re helpless to do anything else but hide. Apathy survives solely on lies and can only be washed away by truth.”
His fingers clutched the rumpled confusion of her hair, tightened. “It is proof you cannot stay with me.”
“It is proof of what you deny. I see it in your eyes.” She touched his lids with her fingertips and smiled.
“You see too many damned things in my eyes that are not real.”
“They are real for me if not for you.”
“With this war raging…I can give you nothing.”
“You give without knowing, Joshua.” Gently, she cleared his forehead of brown strand heavy with perspiration. “And what you cannot offer is perhaps not worth having.”
“You are a child ignorant of tomorrow—and I am only a man, damn you, as flawed as the next.”
“I am not fearful any more. I have been to hell and back. I want you, Joshua. I want to be by your side. To raise our children. I do not fear the future, but I would fear it without you.” She looked directly into his eyes and said it again. “I love you.”
Juliet sighed, too overwhelmed for debate, too paralyzed by the weight of love too long deprived of its natural fulfillment. She was no longer fooled by his assumed posturing. “Then prove your flaws, Joshua Rutland,” she murmured dreamily into his ear as she leaned forward and kissed it. “Prove your flaws to me now!”
The last of his defenses crumbled. He swept her into his arms, growling curses and hoarse imprecations. He laid her back on the soft green moss, and swept aside her clothing, his hands wandering over her body, feeling licks of fire wherever they touched her skin. Gone were the doubts, the indecisions, the denials, and the uncertainties.
For an instant, one brief instant, he stilled. He sat up to drink in her wondrous body. She blushed, covered herself with her hands beneath his heated gaze.
“My God, you take my breath away. Yet this is madness,” he said. “Tell me to stop, Juliet.
“Tell you to stop?” she whispered. Very purposefully, she freed her hair from its pins so that it flowed in waves beneath her. “That, my lord, would be madness.”
His rich, alluring chuckle drifted over her. He stood to shed his buckskins letting them drop to the ground. She caught flashes of glistening flesh, hard and sinewy, damp with his day’s exertion.
“You fill my whole world, Juliet.” He kneeled next to her, hauled her into his arms, and held her tight in his embrace, as if shielding her with his body against all the torments, the fears and loneliness.
Cocooned within Joshua’s arms, Juliet closed her eyes and drank it all in—the man, the millions of ways he moved her. He rose again, lifted her ever so gently and carried her beneath the shade of oaks, reverently laying her on soft moss. She buried her face against his throat, so conscious of where his warm flesh touched hers.
The air lay thick like the heat of day. She dared to glide her hand down his shoulders, chest, and midsection.
He seized her hands. “Slowly,” he warned, perceiving her with hunger. He leaned down to kiss her. First his lips grazed hers, soft and fine as a breath of wind. She quivered at the brush of his lips against hers and the feeling swept downward, caressing the tips of her breast, the core of her belly, the place between her legs.
“Please,” she said, pressing close, seeking release from the delicious ache inside her. “Promise me it won’t be like before, when you made me rise to the sky and yet took none of your own pleasure.”
A quirk of a smile tipped his lips as the length of his body pressed close to hers, their legs quickly entwined, their mouths inseparable as tongues intermingled on one shared breath.
“Juliet.” He caressed and teased her flesh until her breasts budded and were full and heavy against his warm hand.
His hand splayed at the bottom of her spine holding her in intimate contact. She gasped as her bare breasts touched against the hairs of his chest, her cheek abraded int
o nettle stings, silken skin against stubbled maleness and the intimate contact of his arousal against her stomach. Suddenly, his hands were everywhere, her body aching for more.
Outlining the tips of her breasts with his fingers, Joshua brought their tips to crested peaks. Slowly, languorously, his hand moved downward, skimming either side of her body, exploring her thighs, then plunged down again searching the warmth that lay hidden intimately between.
“My Juliet. Do you know how hard it’s been for me to stay away from you? Knowing you were my wife and not being able to have you?”
“Yes,” she said, her fingers reaching down and caressing his manhood. “I think I might have a vague idea.”
His mouth came down on hers, sapping her strength, her body boneless while he plied her intimately with his finger, withdrawing and sinking, pushing her over some unnamed edge. She could not get enough of him; her impatience grew to explosive proportions, his expert touch driving her to higher levels of ecstasy.
Dazed, she opened her eyes to meet his blue gaze, dark as lapis…and poised above her… Lord Joshua Rutland, a man who struck fear in the British and Indians alike, a man who had the lethal power to kill a man. Yet all he had yielded to her was an aching tenderness.
“There must be more,” she beseeched, crying out in a frenzy of unendurable rapture, “please!”
For a fraction of a second Joshua’s hand stayed. His face ravaged with uncertainties, he hesitated. Then with a helpless groan, he buried his face in her shoulder. “There will be pain, my Juliet. There is no way I can spare you of that.”
She circled his neck with her arms and held him secure. “I love you, Joshua. I love you with all my heart.”
“I love you, Juliet. You realize this moment will change everything between us.”
“It had better.” Her whisper came fierce with emotion, thick with feeling. She pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat, intoxicated by the taste of him.
Lord of the Wilderness Page 24
