At last, her mother’s face softened. And Juliette realized that this was all a distraction for Beatrice. Finding husbands for her daughters meant that she could escape her own problems. How many years had it been since her mother had enjoyed her own life? Juliette couldn’t remember the last time Beatrice had bought trinkets for herself.
Beatrice stood and brushed a lock of hair from Juliette’s temple. “When you return to London, His Grace has promised to use his influence on your behalf.” She reached out and took her hand, squeezing it lightly. “It was part of our agreement when he asked to wed Victoria. You’ll have a Season and all the opportunities I never had.”
Juliette understood, then, that although her mother wanted to maintain her pride when it came to rebuilding the house, Beatrice had no qualms about accepting help with achieving social status for her daughters.
“Promise me you’ll try to find a husband,” Beatrice pleaded. “And not Dr. Fraser, much as he might wish to court you.” Her face flushed, as if she didn’t mean to insult the man. “He’s a good physician, don’t mistake my meaning. But Juliette… he’s not for you.”
“Paul and I are friends,” she said absently. “Nothing more.”
“Then you might remindDr. Fraserof that,” Beatrice corrected in a subtle admonition that it was improper to call him by his first name. “He tried to pay a call on you earlier today, but I told him you were not receiving.” She raised an eyebrow. “Thatwaswhat you wanted, wasn’t it?”
Her mother’s assumption wasn’t unfounded, from all the calls Juliette had refused in the past few weeks. But even as she shrugged in reply, a prickle of regret tumbled within her. Almost as if she wanted to see Dr. Fraser again.
She excused herself, kissing her mother’s cheek before she left. Without really knowing why, she went to retrieve a woolen coat and a bonnet. She dressed herself warmly and donned boots to protect her from the snow. Outside, the air was crisp, the sun gleaming across the stark winter landscape. The mountains pierced the blue sky, while more snow blanketed the stony peaks.
Against the fence, she saw Paul waiting for her. Her heart stumbled at the sight of him, for she’d expected him to give up. He was watching her, his midnight-blue eyes holding an enigmatic expression. They were bloodshot, as if he’d not slept the night before.
Why was he here? Juliette crossed through the courtyard and saw that he’d worn a tartan today, his hands tucked inside the brown and green patterned wool. Dressed like a Highlander, he appeared less civilized than he had the night before.
“Good morning,” she greeted him, her breath frosting in the air.
“And to you.” His gaze passed over her, from her hair down to her boots. She clutched her coat tighter, not knowing why he’d come to see her again. “I wanted to speak to you once more, before you returned to London. Will you walk with me through the glen?”
She hesitated, glancing back at the house. Her mother was right. She shouldn’t encourage him, no matter what she might feel in his presence. He’d grown so handsome over the years, but though he’d occasionally cloaked himself in the guise of a gentleman, there was something not quite tame about him.
And you like it,a sinful voice taunted her conscience.
He reached into his coat and held out a small ball of fur. “I brought you something.”
When she stepped closer, she saw that it was a tiny gray and white kitten. He held it out to her, and she suddenly understood that this man was not about to play fair with her heart. He fully intended to weaken her defenses, using any means necessary.
In the early days of their letters, she had complained to him that her mother would never allow her to have a cat of her own. They were allowed in the stables, but never the house.
“You remembered,” she said at last.
“Aye.”
When she took the ball of fur from him, his hands brushed hers. The slight touch flared up the feelings she was trying to lock away. Being anywhere near this man was an assault upon her heart. To distract herself, she focused all her attention upon the animal.
The kitten reminded her of a white tiger, and its eyes held a seriousness, like the way Matthew had stared at her in the first minutes of his life. Her heart abruptly crumpled, and she cuddled the animal against her side. His tiny claws sank into the sleeve of her gown, but he appeared blissfully happy.
Careful,her heart warned. Paul knew her better than anyone, and it seemed that despite her warnings, he fully intended to court her. And that wasn’t right.
“I shouldn’t keep him,” she confessed, even as the kitten nudged at her hand, letting out a tiny meow. “We’re traveling back to London, and he’d be frightened without a true home.”
“But you want to keep him.” His gaze held steady, and when he started walking toward the glen, she found herself unable to do anything except follow. Juliette bundled the kitten beneath her coat and walked behind him.
Her brain was crying out for her to thank him and leave. Although she knew it was perfectly safe to be alone with Paul Fraser—albeit improper—she found her willpower weakening. He was handsome, but the years had weathered his face, turning him fierce. He’d always been tall, but there was a lean strength to him, and a sense that he would never let any harm come to her.
Immediately, she shut down the thought. Last night, she’d made it clear that there would not be anything more than friendship between them. Regardless of what he wanted to say to her, that could never change.
“We won’t be walking too far,” Paul added. “Just over by the crofters’ tents.”
He led her through the snow, upon a pathway trod by horses. A layer of ice had frozen on top, and he took her arm to keep her from falling. For a time, they walked together in silence, their breath frosted in the air. “The duke has promised to let them build their homes here.”
“Is your mother dwelling among them?”
He nodded. “And so am I. Until our house is rebuilt.”
