Unraveled By The Rebel (21 page)

The young maid flushed, but followed them. Juliette felt conspicuous in her gown as Paul led her inside the small pub. The few women she saw were dressed in dark woolen gowns and serviceable
frocks that were more suited to servants. Already, several were eyeing her attire as if wondering why she’d come.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said suddenly. “This isn’t right.”

“We’re going below,” Paul said, gripping her hand tighter. “Trust me, Juliette.” He took her to a small door that opened to a narrow stairway. From the cellar came the sound of someone playing the fiddle and pipes.

It was like stepping into a different world. The men and women were lined up across from one another, spinning and whirling. The flushed faces of the women were laughing, and there were even children dancing among them. A man who looked to be eighty was whirling with a girl of sixteen, his feet moving faster than Juliette had imagined possible.

“Does this no’ remind you of Ballaloch?” he said in her ear, for it was too loud to talk.

It did, except that these people were strangers. She felt herself wanting to slip into the background, to watch the young men and women. Here, there were none of the studied mannerisms and social barriers—only people laughing and enjoying themselves. In the back of the room, she saw some men and women sitting far too close to one another.

“What is this place?” she asked, standing on tiptoe to reach his ear.

“It’s a gathering that you’ll find far more entertaining, I hope.” He pressed his palm to her spine, guiding her inside. “You’ve naught to fear. No’ while I’m with you.”

“I feel very out of place,” she confessed. “Like they’re staring at me.”

“I’m staring at you, too,” he said. “And I think you ken why.” He guided her out to the line of dancers and said, “Dance with me, Juliette.”

“I don’t know these dances,” she protested, feeling overwhelmed by the people and the music. “Really, I shouldn’t.”

“It’s no’ hard. Just hold on to me,” he bade her, putting his hands on her waist and spinning her in circles. She grew dizzy from the fast movements, but when she stumbled, he lifted her up, swinging her around.

After two dances, she started to see the fun in it. The people moved with reckless abandon, struggling to keep up with the fiddler. Music filled the room, and in time, she lost sight of her self-consciousness. There was only Paul, and the way he guided her through it.

When she stumbled again, she laughed. “I feel like my feet are tied together.” The steps were impossible, but she mimicked the other ladies, struggling to keep up the pace. A lad of ten asked her to dance, and she indulged him, smiling brightly while he gave her a cheeky grin.

“Me name’s Rob,” he told her. “Rob the butcher’s son.”

“I am Miss Andrews,” she answered in a subtle reminder that she was far older than him.

Rob winked at her, spinning her faster. “I heard
him
call you Juliette.”

“I’ve known Dr. Fraser for years. And I’ve only known you for a few minutes.”

“I’d be glad if you knew me for years,” the boy said with a grin.

“Leave her be, lad. She’s already been claimed,” Paul said, intervening to take her back again. He gave her a glass of lemonade that tasted terrible, but she sipped it anyway, for she was thirsty from the dancing. Paul brought her a chair, and they sat together, watching the dancers and listening to the music.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked against her ear.

“My mother would need smelling salts if she knew I was here.” She turned, and his face was far too near to hers. His midnight-blue eyes held a warmth that made her smile fade. Though he spoke not a word, she grew aware of his bristled cheeks and the heated look he sent her way. His palm moved to her hand, and his fingers laced in hers.

Her thoughts scattered like leaves on an autumn wind at the way he was staring at her. She couldn’t piece together a coherent thought, nor did she protest when he stood and took her by the hand. When she glanced over at her maid, she saw that Nell was dancing with one of the older men.

She asked no questions but simply followed Paul. He led her away from the others, toward a darkened corner. “Are you enjoying yourself,
a gràdh
?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He pressed her back, and against her ear, he murmured, “I find that I’m wanting to kiss you again. If you’ll allow it.” His midnight-blue eyes were locked upon her, and the air was heavy with feelings she didn’t understand.

“Not here,” she whispered. “Anyone could see us.” But even so, her heart had begun to tremble at the thought.

He glanced back at the dancing. “There’s no one to see us. Look.”

She realized he was right. The small corner of the room was shadowed with no light, and there was a stack of chairs that hid them from view.

Paul held out his hand, waiting for her answer. Her pulse hastened at his suggestion, and she found herself slipping beneath his spell. She wanted to kiss him again, to feel like a normal woman instead of a fallen one.

And so she put her hand in his, following him into the shadows. Gently, he pressed her back, and her heartbeat trebled.

She lifted her face to his in silent permission, and when he brought his mouth upon hers, it was not at all a demanding kiss. No, it was slow and lazy. He savored her lips, tasting her. With his mouth upon hers, she forgot about her sins and could simply be.

Although he had her trapped in his arms, she didn’t feel afraid. Against her lips, Paul spoke. “I held you like this once, in the garden. But you were afraid of me then.” His hands moved down to her waist, and she caught her breath at his touch. “What about now?”

She didn’t know what to say to him. Her mouth was swollen from his kiss, and she wanted to lean in for another. “I’m only afraid of the way you make me feel,” she admitted. When she was in his arms, she lost sight of herself. She was fighting against the darkness of the past, forcing herself to remain in place.

Paul captured her mouth again, moving to her jaw and down to her throat. Shivers spiraled through her, and she was startled at the way her breasts tightened beneath her gown.

“You’re the loveliest lass I’ve e’er laid eyes on,” he breathed. “And I’m wanting to show you what I spoke of, in the carriage. But only when you’re willing.”

Her thoughts tangled up within her, and a refusal caught in her throat. She knew what he was asking, and instinct roared at her to say no.

And yet… was this not another face of cowardice? He wanted to touch her, as a lover would. To destroy her terrible memories, leaving something better in their place. There was no fear of dishonoring herself, for not only were they hidden from view… but she also never intended to be with any other man. No one else would understand her in the way he did.

He’d been achingly understanding over these past few weeks and months. Most women would have had a betrothal by now. And yet, he’d never pushed her.

“If I ask you to stop, will you?” she whispered.

He gave a nod. “At any moment, lass.”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again, bringing his hands to her waist. Against the juncture of her hips, he was hard, and she forced herself to remain motionless. The pressure of his arousal was enough to terrify her. And when she murmured, “Stop,” he broke away and took a step back. Without hesitation.

She took a shuddering breath, and he stared at her. “I canna change the way you make me desire you, Juliette. But I swear, I’ll stop at any moment you ask me to.”

She believed him. In his eyes, there was no doubt of his longing. He craved more from her, but he had full command of himself.

For so long, she’d been tormented by her nightmares of being held against her will and being violated. Though it was entirely improper, she wanted to give something of herself to him. Even if it was nothing more than a forbidden touch.

“Kiss me again,” she said softly. As he did, he held a distance between them. Likely he believed she was too timid for more. She reached for his waist and drew him against her. He broke contact with her lips, and she felt the gentle pressure of his erection against her.

He remained frozen in place, waiting to see what her response was. Though she was caught up with fear, she was more startled by the sudden warmth blooming between her legs. Her mind was rigid with visions of fear… but her body welcomed him.

It felt good in a way she’d never expected.

His mouth moved against her ear, and she shuddered against him, pressing close. “Careful, lass,” he warned. “You’re stretching my control as it is.”

“But you’ll stop when I ask you to.”

“Aye.” He inclined his head, though she sensed that with every liberty she allowed, the tighter he was wound up.

“Is it warm in here?” she asked, feeling flushed in the crowded space. Glancing over at the dancers, she realized that no one was aware of them. Not even Nell, who was supposed to chaperone her.

“Aye.” His hands drifted over her shoulders and down her spine. “And growing hotter.”

His mouth brushed against hers, but the heat of his breath made her wrap her arms around him. She was wearing stays, but even beneath the corset, her body arched to be nearer to him.

“I should be ashamed of myself,” she whispered. “A lady would never do this.”

“We’re not strangers, Juliette. And one day, I hope that you’ll consent to be my bride. When you’re ready.”

That was the reason why she was giving rein to her curiosity. Intuitively, she knew that she would never allow any other man to touch her in this way. With Paul, she felt a goodness, a sense that he honored her. And a part of her wondered if she could somehow silence the nightmares of the past by confronting her fear. That was what she wanted tonight. To learn what it should have been like to steal kisses from a man she cared about.

When she kissed him again, this time his tongue slipped inside her mouth. Desire flooded through her, and she found herself leaning in, accepting him as he thrust and withdrew.

Her breasts ached, and she embraced him, pressing herself to him. She found herself wanting more, despite the thousand voices within that cried out for her to stop.

She was walking on the edge of danger, tormenting a man who wanted her. Paul had never made any secret of that.

“Juliette,” he breathed, and he pulled her hips to his, holding her close. “We can tarry only a few moments longer.”

He was giving her the chance to stop, to walk away from this. And yet, she wanted him to guide her, wanted to learn more about the ways between a man and a woman.

“A little longer, then,” she said.

His eyes grew hooded with desire, and his mouth was tight with unspoken need. “Slowly.” He moved her to sit upon his leg. His hands moved down to her bottom, and he drew himself closer to her.

“If I could, I’d take you somewhere we could be alone.” His hips were cradled against hers, and she could feel the hardness of his thigh between her legs. He balanced her weight there, and the contact embarrassed her. Not because of his touch, but by her response to him.

“I’d want to undress you, opening these buttons one by one.” His hands moved down the back of her gown, touching each of
them, though they remained closed. “And then I’d unlace you here.” He put a slight pressure upon the back of her corset, drawing his hands down the laces. “I’d lay you down on a soft bed and taste your sweet skin.”

His words were a dark caress, and slowly, he moved against her. The rigid pressure of his leg against her intimate flesh was shocking. He didn’t force her, but between her legs, there was a deep ache.

“I’d worship your body,” he breathed, drawing his mouth down to the skin at her neckline. “I’d spend hours learning your flesh. Finding what pleased you.”

God above, his words were a sweet seduction, beckoning her to let go. She was locked into his words, unable to do anything but see the vision he’d painted.

“I’d kiss your breasts and suckle you until you grew wet.” To emphasize his words, he slid against her again. “I’d make you tremble, Juliette.”

“I already am,” she whispered in response. All over, she was flushed and quivering, wanting him to do the things he’d spoken of. But she knew it could not go as far as he’d want it to. She could not take him inside her, letting him claim her as a husband would. Not even if she wed him in secret.

They needed to stop, for this had gone on too long. They would be caught together, and she didn’t doubt that someone would see them.

Nearby, she heard a woman moan, and she glanced over to another couple in the shadows of the opposite corner. The woman was clasped against the man, and she was moving up and down. From the rhythm and the sudden gasps coming from her, Juliette sensed what they were doing. With Paul against her body, she was growing even more aroused, despite herself.

“They’re too wrapped up in themselves,” he countered. “They don’t see us.”

“Here?” she whispered. “They’re not actually—”

“No. But within a few minutes more, he’ll take her away.” Paul’s voice was strained, and while she was seated upon his thigh, he moved his hand to her ankle. Almost as soon as he predicted it, the man took the woman through a door in the back of the cellar and they disappeared.

Paul drew his hand to her calf, staring at her. “Will you let me touch you more? Or shall I stop?”

Stop,
her mind begged. But she couldn’t bring herself to speak the words. She
did
want more.

“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted.

With one hand, he moved higher, to her knee. With his hand beneath her skirts, no one could see what he was doing, and she felt a moan catch in her throat. He traced a path over her stockings, until he reached the patch of bare skin above the garters.

And then he stopped. His eyes were molten, burning with need for her. “I’m going to stop now, Juliette. But I want you to imagine my hand against your sweet flesh. You’re growing wet for me, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t trust herself to speak, but only nodded. Her breathing was labored, and she felt her knees shaking.

“Against my fingers, I’d feel your damp curls. And then I’d slip one inside you.”