“One day it might be different,” Cain offered.
He shrugged, not knowing the answer. But he had a need to be near her, to learn if there was any hope at all. Time and patience were his allies now. If there was any chance that she might think of starting over with him, he would wait as long as necessary.
Sinclair tapped the letter and said, “Were I in your shoes, Fraser, I’d use the title to your advantage. You have your chance. Don’t be tossing it away.”
But if he attempted to infiltrate her world, it might come crashing down on him. He wasn’t a viscount. He was a physician and a rebel. A man who could never entertain himself with manners and ballrooms. All of it was a lie, though Sinclair was right: It was a lie that would open doors, allowing him to be nearer to Juliette.
And perhaps that made it worth the attempt.
Winter 1808
“I’ve been waiting for a long time to see your bonny face, Juliette.”
She spun and saw Paul following her. Snowflakes had drifted against his black hair, and his deep blue eyes drank in the sight of her. His cheeks were bristled, as if he’d not taken the time to shave on his journey.
The urge to welcome him home with an embrace came over her, but she suppressed it. They were older now, and the remnants of her childhood were gone. An invisible barrier hung between them, formed from distance and her mother’s warnings about how a proper young lady should behave.
“I never thought to see you here,” she said, hoping he would see the thankfulness in her face. It had been so very long, she felt awkward. Almost as if the letters they’d written to one another had been guided by other hands.
“I can only stay a few days.” He moved to stand beside her, and she saw that he was wearing finer clothes than she’d seen before, possibly handed down from his uncle. His woolen topcoat was covered in snow, and he might have appeared to be a gentleman, were it not for the gloves that had holes in them.
But the warmth in his eyes, the dark longing, was enough to overwhelm her senses.I missed you,his gaze seemed to say.
“Edinburgh is so far away,” she murmured, feeling as if her skin tingled with phantom sensations. As if he were touching her, using only the power of his will.
“You’ve no welcome for me?” he teased, reaching for her hand. He’d grown so tall, she had to crane her neck back to look at his face.
“Not here,” she whispered, pulling her hand back. “Not where anyone could see.” Color rushed to her cheeks, for she knew the sort of welcome he wanted. Though she wanted to fly into his arms, to feel his strength enfolding her, it was wrong.
But he listened to her, guiding her away from the thatched houses. He walked steadily at her side, using only the barest touch of his palm against her spine to lead her toward the hillside. The snow continued to fall, dusting her cheeks and nose as they trudged through the drifts. When they reached the deeper snow, Paul’s fingers fingers laced with hers to keep her from falling.
The heat of his gloved palm made her heartbeat quicken. The cluster of crofters’ huts was behind them now, and he helped her to the path leading atop the hillside. A grove of pine trees and leafless oaks stood to hide them from view. Here, the snow wasn’t as deep, and she pushed her way past the needled branches until they were near the center of the trees. At last, Paul turned to face her, and the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.
“You’re wearing your hair up, like a lady,” he remarked, reaching out to touch the brown strands beneath her bonnet. Juliette held herself motionless, her mother’s rules resounding in her mind. She should not allow him to touch her, not now. Though she was seventeen, she understood that there were reasons for keeping a gentleman at a safe distance.
“You’re a bonny lass, as ever you were before.” His hand moved back as if he’d suddenly remembered that they were no longer children. “I missed you these years.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak, and he seemed to understand it. He was nearly a man at nineteen. And yet…he was still the same Paul she’d always known.
Before she could move, he pressed her back against one of the thicker trees, holding her hips and locking her eyes with his. “You’ve grown shorter over the years.”
The laughter in his eyes warmed her, and she tipped her head back. “You’re taller.”
In answer to that, he lifted her up until her eyes were even with his. “Is that better?”
His familiarity made her uncomfortable, and he held her as if she weighed no more than a wisp of cloth. “Put me down, Paul,” she pleaded, though she knew he was only teasing. Instead, he held her a moment longer, his strong arms wrapped around her. No longer did she feel the cold, but she was intensely aware of his body pressed close to hers. The memory of his mouth on hers lingered, and a sliver of heat moved down her spine. As he lowered her, she found herself breathless at the pressure of his body against hers.
“I brought you a gift,” he said, lowering her to stand. “Took me months of saving for it.”
He grimaced a moment, staring down at his hands, as if he were embarrassed by the holes in his gloves. “I apprenticed with an apothecary for a while, and then I applied to the college again. This time, I was accepted.” Reaching inside his waistcoat pocket, he pulled out a ring made of silver. She saw that it was engraved with a pattern of vines and a single blossom.
He reached out for her hand and found a finger that it fit. “I wanted something to remind you of our promise. Because I can no’ return again, until I’ve finished with my studies. And when I come back, I want you to marry me, lass.”
She traced the silver with her fingertips, knowing how much this gift had cost him. There was no doubting that he’d meant what he said. Her heart swelled with a burst of joy that he loved her, and she cared for him, too. She wanted so badly to keep the ring, to run home and tell her family that Paul had asked her to wed him.
But the moment she thought of her mother’s reaction, reality struck hard. Beatrice would not be happy for her at all. If she spoke a word of this, her mother would forbid her to see him again.
With the greatest reluctance, she started to remove the ring. “Paul, I—”
