Her hands moved up to his shoulders, and in a moment, she was in his arms again.
This is wrong. Move away,her conscience ordered.
He’s your closest friend,her heart argued back. Paul needed her, and she felt his pain as if it were her own. If her father had died in such a way, she couldn’t imagine the emptiness inside.
“You can’t stay in Scotland,” she whispered, resting her cheek against his. “It’s too dangerous.” The scent of his skin reminded her of the wild pine that grew in the Highlands. She inhaled it, trying to make a memory of him.
“I want nothing to happen to you,” she insisted. “Promise me that you’ll do as your mother bade you and be safe.”
“I want justice.” He cut her off, closing his eyes. “How can I go to Edinburgh and turn my back on what Lord Strathland did to my father?”
“When you return, perhaps things will change.” Juliette touched his cheek, and his hands moved to her waist, absently stroking her spine. A ripple of aching warmth flooded through her, and she shied away from the feelings she wasn’t ready to face.
His gaze grew distant, and he shook his head. “The earl should suffer the same fate as my father.”
Juliette said nothing, knowing he was speaking words born of suffering and fear. “Let it go, Paul,” she murmured. “Lord Strathland is too powerful to fight against.”
When he gave no reply, she sensed that if he stayed here, he would do something rash. She didn’t doubt that was another reason why his mother was sending him away. “Please,” she repeated. “For me.”
“For now,” he acceded. “But his time will come.” From the dark look on his face, she saw the promise of vengeance. “Someone has to hold Strathland to blame for the way he treats the clansmen. He’s earned his riches from their blood.”
“It doesn’t have to be you.” She wrapped a handkerchief around his knuckles, raising her eyes to his. “Not now, anyway.”
His midnight-blue eyes locked on to hers. “I won’t forget, Juliette.”
“I hope you don’t,” she said. “Not everything, anyway.” A nervous energy rose up in her stomach from the way he was looking at her now. She let go of his hand, not knowing what to say to him.
His gaze centered on her face. “Some things canna be forgotten.”
When his palm touched her cheek, she went utterly still. The look in his eyes was of a haunted man, one who saw her as far more than a friend. Although they were both too young, there was an undeniable bond with Paul Fraser. She couldn’t say what it was, but in his eyes, she glimpsed a pathway leading toward a forbidden life.
“Could I kiss you before I go?” he murmured.
Blood rushed to her face, for she’d never been kissed before. He flustered her, and she didn’t know what to say. But he took her silence for acquiescence. His mouth poised over hers, and at the touch of his lips, a thread of innocence bound them together. It was the barest whisper of a kiss, only a slight pressure upon her lips.
And yet, it held an unspoken promise. She’d never known that this sort of temptation existed, and without understanding it, she kissed him back. Warnings poured through her as his mouth moved upon hers, the heat awakening a rush of sensation. When his hands moved down her back, she felt a thrill of anticipation. Of wanting him, needing more.
Both of them gave in to the desire, the kiss opening, his tongue sliding within her mouth. She accepted him, her breath seizing in her lungs as she realized that there had always been more than friendship between them.
Juliette clung to him, even knowing that this was wrong. Paul Fraser was a secret desire she could never, ever fulfill.
“I’ll write to you,” he said against her mouth.
She could hardly catch her breath, for her mind was spinning with the certainty of broken dreams. In her heart, she was afraid she would never see him again.
Chapter One
SCOTLAND,1811
He’d been waiting two years to see her again.
Dr. Paul Fraser held back from the other wedding guests, searching for a glimpse of the young woman who had haunted him since the day he’d left Ballaloch. Although he’d come back a few times in the past five years, Juliette had been gone during his most recent visits. The last time he’d seen her, he’d asked Juliette to marry him… and since that day, all of her letters had stopped. Without a single word of explanation.
He wanted to believe that something had happened to the letters. That she’d never received the dozens of notes he’d sent, and that one conversation would solve the misunderstanding. But a heaviness centered within him as he suspected that it was no misunderstanding at all. She’d made her choice, and it wasn’t him.
He wouldn’t beg for answers. But neither would he let her disappear among the crowd of guests at her sister’s wedding. After all this time, he wanted to look into her eyes and see the truth—no matter how bitter it might be.
The bride and groom stood at the top of the staircase, while the unmarried women gathered below. Paul stood among the men, but his attention was fixed upon Juliette. She had her back to him, but she had grown taller, her waist slim. He yearned to see her face and the green eyes that had held him spellbound all these years.
