Unraveled By The Rebel (41 page)

But Juliette didn’t believe that. She needed to see him, to know if he was all right. The housekeeper gave her a cool cloth, and she wiped her face, hoping to calm the roiling fear.

“Could I get some toast to eat?” she asked. “Nothing but bread, please.”

The housekeeper’s face narrowed. “You’re looking a wee bit peaked, Lady Falsham.” A slight smile perked at her mouth. “I won’t be lying. I do like calling you that. Dr. Fraser’s a fine man, and now that he’s a viscount… why, it’s simply perfect.” Her gaze drifted lower. “If your stomach is tossin’ in the morning, I suspect it won’t be long before ye have a wee bairn to look after. So soon after your wedding bodes for many children.” She patted Juliette’s hand. “Is it possible, do ye think?”

She gave no answer. Unfortunately, it was looking more and more likely. Right now she wanted to lie back on the bed and curl up into a ball. But if it was true and she was expecting a child, then lying down was the last thing she needed. She had to find Paul.

“If you’ll help me to dress, I’ll eat the toast when you’ve prepared it, before I go to find my husband.”

“I’ll see to it, my lady.” Mrs. Larson helped her to don a gown over the light blue chemise and corset she’d chosen. The frock was a new one that Paul had bought for her, white with tiny blue flowers upon it. The high waist and scooped neckline clung to her body, while a blue satin ribbon was her sash. She pulled on her gloves and finished dressing, although several times, she had to stop and take deep breaths to force back the dizziness.

But when she went down to the breakfast table, she saw Cain Sinclair speaking to her mother. The grim look on the man’s face confirmed her worst fears. “Where is he?” she demanded, hurrying forward.

“Strathland’s men ambushed him last night. My brother Jonah saw them leaving and came to tell me.”

“Is he alive?” she demanded. A roaring filled her ears, and she gripped the edge of a chair. “Tell me he’s not dead.” She couldn’t even grasp the thought, it was so terrible. Though she’d only been wedded to Paul a short time, she’d loved him far longer than that. He couldn’t die. Not like this.

The stoic expression on Cain’s face was not reassuring. Her knees grew weak, and she sank into the chair, her hands shaking. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know what’s happened, but we’re going to find out. Stay here, Lady Falsham.” His eyes burned into hers. “Don’t interfere until we can bring him back.”

She stared at him, wondering how she could possibly wait behind these walls while he went to save her husband. And then what? Strathland had crossed beyond reason and into madness. Both of them would lash out at the other until one of them was dead.

It had to end.

If Paul killed Strathland, he would be brought up on murder charges. An earl outranked a viscount, and the consequences would be severe. But she couldn’t live this way any longer, running away from the man who had taken so much from her. The earl had stolen her innocence and had given her nothing but heartache. She would not allow him to harm Paul. If anyone needed to face Strathland, it was her.

“I’m not staying here,” she told Cain. “I’m going with you. I’ve a need for my own vengeance.” She hardly cared that she was risking her own life. This was about taking it back again.

“No, you won’t leave,” Cain argued. “He’ll only use you against Fraser.”

He wasn’t going to listen to her. It was easier to feign her agreement than to waste time on words that meant nothing. Instead, she gave what truths she could. “Go and help Paul, then,” she said. “I won’t interfere with that.”

And she wouldn’t. She had her own purpose for paying a call upon Strathland. She trusted Mr. Sinclair to free her husband. This time, she intended to see to it that the earl understood the truth—that he no longer held any power over her or her family.

When he’d gone, her father stepped in front of her. “I know that look on your face, Juliette.”

She said nothing, waiting for him to tell her all the reasons why it was wrong for her to leave. Likely, he’d try to lock her in her room, as if she was still a little girl.

“Paul is my husband,” she insisted. “He’s the man I love, and I’ll not stand by and do nothing.”

“I won’t ask you to stand aside.”

His words startled her, and he gestured for her to sit at the table. “But I have spent many years planning battle strategies. I wonder if you might allow a father’s help in your own war.”

From across the room, she caught Beatrice staring at the pair of them, her face softening. Her mother came to stand by her husband, and she touched a hand to his shoulder. “Henry, thank you.”

He cleared his throat. “I know I’ve not been there for you, while you were growing up. I missed many things. Seeing you transform from a girl into a woman. And now a wife.”

“I don’t understand why Strathland won’t just leave us in peace,” she said. “Why he won’t give up.”

“There are some men who cannot accept defeat. They’ll destroy everything in the hopes of acquiring what they desire most.”

Her mother sat across from both of them. “I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t approve of your marriage, when I first learned of it. I didn’t believe Charlotte when she told me of Dr. Fraser’s title, either.”

Beatrice took a breath and added, “But I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and I believe that you both deserve to be happy.”

Henry exchanged a look with his wife and nodded. “I agree with you that Strathland should leave all of us in peace. And I think I know a way to make that happen. Without killing him,” he added. “The last thing we need right now is a murder trial.”

Juliette leaned in. “What do you suggest?”

“You’re going to die, you know.” Strathland’s voice was silken, as if he relished every moment of Paul’s capture. “After she arrives.”

Paul flexed his wrists, loosening his ropes further. He couldn’t break free yet, not when there were two men guarding him from behind. “Juliette won’t come. She knows better than to take that risk.”

“Even to save your life?” the earl mused. “I sent word to her this morning. I think she’ll be here soon enough.”

Paul said nothing, studying his surroundings. There was only one door leading out of the drawing room, behind the earl. The two men on either side of him were armed with knives. He contemplated each possibility, knowing he had to disarm the two men before he could get past the earl.

“I enjoyed her, you know.” Strathland’s taunt resonated in the room, and Paul gripped the ropes so tightly, he envisioned them cutting off the air in the man’s lungs. “She tried to fight me, but I held her down. And when I was inside her, she was wet. She wanted what I gave her.”

“She never wanted you.”

“She didn’t want you, either,” the earl said. “You were so pitiful, trying to court her with your lies. You’re no viscount. You’re nothing but a penniless crofter’s son.”

He was wrong, but Paul didn’t bother to correct him. “And what does that say about you? She chose to wed a penniless crofter over an earl. It seems she didn’t enjoy you after all.”

Strathland’s face turned purple, and he crossed the room. Pain radiated through Paul when the man’s fist struck his jaw. He tasted blood in his mouth, but he forced himself to stare back at the earl.

“I had her first,” Strathland insisted. “And before you die, I’m going to have her again.” His smile held the promise of violence, and Paul had had enough. He fumbled with the ropes until finally his wrists were free. He kept the rope ends in his palms, awaiting the moment to strike.

“You’ll never touch her again.”

But before he could release his wrists from the ropes and lunge toward Strathland, the butler interrupted. “My lord, there is a caller for you.”

Strathland straightened his waistcoat. “There, you see? She is here, now that I’ve summoned her.”

Although the butler had not confirmed that Juliette was the caller, Paul wasn’t about to wait around for Strathland to return. As soon as the man disappeared from the room, Paul dropped the ropes and dove toward the guard to his left. He seized the man’s blade and spun out of the way when the second attacked.

There came the sound of glass shattering on the far wall, but Paul was too busy using one of the men as a shield while he fought against the other.

He shoved the man forward, and it caused the pair to topple over. On the other side of the room, a window was forced open. Cain Sinclair demanded, “Fraser, get over here!”

Paul swung his fist at the ear of one attacker, and the man crumpled. Without pausing, he hurried toward the open window, avoiding the broken glass on the carpet. He shoved the window open farther and swung his legs over the sill.

“I didna need your help,” he told Sinclair. “Tell me you weren’t daft enough to bring my wife with you.”

“I warned her to stay. I’ve no idea if she listened.”

Paul let out a curse, gripping the window ledge and dropping down to the ground below. “I hope to God she did.” He couldn’t imagine what would bring Juliette here, not after all that Strathland had done to her.

“We’re not finished here,” he warned Cain. “No’ until I know she’s safe.”

“I didna think we were.” Sinclair led him around the outside of the house, keeping to the walls. “There’s another way in, through the kitchens.”

“And how do you think we’ll get inside without being seen?”

“Oh, we’ll be seen. There’s no doubt of that. But the kitchen maids have no love for Strathland. I think they’re wanting him to get his due.”

“So am I.” Paul reached for the blade he’d stolen from one of Strathland’s guards. He followed Cain into the kitchen, keeping the hilt in his palm. It was time to end all of this.

Juliette stood in the foyer, meeting Strathland eye to eye while her father stood behind her. His quiet presence gave her a courage she’d never expected. “Lord Strathland, I’ve come for my husband. I believe he is here.”

“He is indeed, Mrs. Fraser.” His tone was snide, as if he didn’t expect her to remain a wife for much longer. “Dr. Fraser was trespassing upon my property.”

“It’s Lady Falsham,” she corrected. “And I don’t believe that’s what happened at all.” In fact, she knew it wasn’t, but Strathland had a propensity for lies.

The earl raised his gaze to her father. “Lord Lanfordshire, was there a reason why you came?”

“To look after my daughter, of course,” he said. “It would not be fitting for her to pay a call upon an unmarried gentleman without a proper escort.”

Juliette sent her father a grateful look. “Now, if you will please bring my husband here, we can sort this out.”

“Can we? And how will we do that? Those crofters you’re protecting were responsible for my wool stores being burned.”

“Just as you were responsible for our house being burned?” she countered. “Whatever happened to your wool was not our doing. You brought it upon yourself.”

Strathland’s face went cold. “I have evidence to the contrary. Your husband was involved in a raid that set the fires.”

“It’s a lie,” she insisted. “We weren’t even in Ballaloch when that happened.”

But from the dark look in his expression, she could tell he didn’t believe her. In his twisted mind, he wanted to blame Paul for all of it. “He will be brought up on charges and held accountable for my losses.” His expression was cool, his countenance bitter.

“Come, Juliette,” her father said. “If he will not release Lord Falsham, then we have charges of our own to press.” He crossed his arms, and Juliette was grateful for his intervention. Though she didn’t want to leave Paul here, it was part of her father’s strategy, and she trusted him.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Strathland said. “We haven’t finished discussing the terms.”

“You may not have finished, but
I
have,” she countered, turning to walk back with her father. Before she moved two steps, she sensed movement behind her. She glanced over in time to see Strathland reach into his coat pocket. A pistol glinted in the light, and he pulled the trigger. Her father crumpled to the floor, blood spilling out from his leg.

She gave a cry and rushed to him, pulling out a handkerchief. Never had she expected Strathland to shoot a family member, and her rage trebled. How could he? She tried to stanch the blood with the handkerchief, but the moment she touched the
wound on his left calf, her father lost consciousness. Dear God, was he going to be all right? A rush of panic roared through her. He couldn’t be wounded like this. Not by Strathland’s hand.