“Don’t move,” Cain warned. As soon as the men saw the earl’s unconscious form, they raised their hands up in surrender. “Do what you will with Lord Strathland,” one said. “I don’t care if he dies.”
The other man nodded toward the door, asking silent permission to leave. Cain stepped aside and let them go.
Paul moved toward Juliette’s father and examined the gunshot wound. It wasn’t too serious, and the bullet had only grazed the calf. He adjusted the makeshift bandage, intending to treat it when they brought her father back home again.
“What do you want to do with Strathland?” he asked his wife. The idea of granting the man mercy was impossible to consider.
“Take him to the most isolated place in Scotland, and strand him where there’s no water,” Juliette suggested. “He won’t survive it.”
Paul exchanged a look with her father, whose face was tight with pain. The man gave a slight nod, agreeing with his daughter. “It’s a reasonable idea.”
“And what if he does live?” Paul demanded. “He won’t stop until he’s had his vengeance upon us.”
“Look at him,” she said. “He has no wool to sell, and the debtors will come to take this house from him. He has nothing at all. Even if he did live, he’d spend the remainder of his days in poverty.”
Though her words were logical, it wasn’t enough to atone for the earl’s crimes. “Why would you ever show mercy to this man?” he demanded. “After all that he’s done.”
“Because if he dies at your hands, the consequences are too great. I love you, and I can’t let you suffer for what he’s done to us. I need you to live, Paul. Especially now.” She moved into his arms, holding tightly to him.
He stroked her hair and drew his hand down to her waist in silent question. Though it was far too soon to tell, he suspected she had missed her menses. If she was pregnant, then she was putting her life and the baby’s life in his hands. There could be no greater task than to keep them both alive.
“We’ll return to Edinburgh together. Just you and I,” Juliette promised. She held out her hand, and in her eyes, he saw the longing. “I trust you to keep me safe.”
“I swear to you, I’ll never let anything happen to you.”
She put her hand in his and met his gaze. “Promise me you won’t interfere with Strathland’s exile. I need you with me.” She rose up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “And if I die in childbirth, I’ll need you to be there for our child.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Thank God you’re back,” Juliette breathed, pulling back the coverlet. It was an hour before dawn, and Paul had only just returned. He’d been gone for two days.
He’d traveled with Mr. Sinclair, taking the earl far to the north, hundreds of miles from any of the clans. They had drugged Strathland with a high dose of laudanum to keep him unconscious throughout the journey.
“It’s done now. Sinclair took him a little farther and sent me back here.” He stripped away his clothing and slid into bed beside her.
“I don’t believe he’ll survive,” she admitted. “He’s too accustomed to luxury. I doubt if he even knows how to find food in such an isolated place.”
“Likely not.” His arms slid around her, and she closed her eyes at the comfort of his hard body next to hers. She wore a nightgown, but the heat of his skin made her skin sensitive. His hands moved over her breasts, then lower to her stomach. “How long has it been since your monthly?”
“Six weeks,” she whispered. “As far as I can remember.” She caught his hands and rolled over to face him. “It might not be true.”
His hands moved lower, to the hem of her nightgown. He raised it up, his hands moving over her bare flesh. “I think I should examine you. As your physician.”
She might have smiled, if she weren’t uneasy about the truth. “If I am pregnant, it must have been that time when we—”
“Shh.” He pulled back the coverlet and helped her remove the nightgown. Naked, she lay against him, skin upon skin. His hands moved down her arms, to her breasts. Gently, he touched them, running his thumbs over the puckered nipples.
“They do feel different,” he said. “They’re thicker and slightly enlarged.” He pressed his mouth to one breast, his tongue circling the nipple. She shuddered, wincing at the touch. “And more sensitive, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
Paul gave the other breast the same attention, nipping at the hard nub and circling the tip. “I could taste you for hours, Juliette. But I ken these are too delicate right now.”
He drew his hands lower, over her rib cage to her stomach. It was still flat, but he trailed his mouth over her skin. Upon her womb, he pressed a kiss. “I think you are pregnant. And if you carry our bairn inside you, I swear to you that I’ll do everything possible to keep you safe.”
She wanted that more than anything. But she didn’t want to lose him. Now that they were together, with the earl gone from their lives, she felt the need to savor their marriage.
“I am afraid,” she admitted. “But in spite of that, I do want this child. I’ve always thought you would make a good father.”
