“Just a few scrapes and bruises.”
“Good.” He spoke to Margaret with a calm air, confident in his abilities. Juliette was startled to see him like this. It was like the night he’d stolen into Aunt Charlotte’s gathering, pretending to be a gentleman. He’d slipped seamlessly into another role, and his very presence unnerved her.
Juliette could no longer think of him as a crofter’s son. No, Paul Fraser had transformed into someone else entirely. Not only a physician… but a man who held secrets of his own.
As he treated her sister, she felt herself calming. Margaret was growing drowsy, and in time, she succumbed to the laudanum.
“I would no’ have given her the sedative so soon,” Paul said. “Although it doesna seem that she has suffered beyond that cut and some bruises, someone should stay with her for the night.”
“I’ll stay,” Juliette agreed.
He started to pack up his bag, his demeanor professional. There was no trace of the man who had kissed her, almost as if it had never happened. When it occurred to her that Paul was walking out and she might not see him again, she blurted out, “Wait. A moment, if you please.” She moved away from her sleeping sister and stood by the door. Thankfully, her aunt Charlotte was no longer there.
Paul stood with his bag in his hand, not moving at all. His dark blue eyes held weariness, and she couldn’t find the words. He’d talked of returning to Scotland… and that was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
No. No, it wasn’t.
Although she’d pushed him away, trying to live her life alone, she’d grown accustomed to seeing him here. He was always near, like a quiet stone she could lean against for support. If he left now, he would move on with his life—she was certain of it. And she no longer wanted to stand in the shadows, watching her life go by.
She wanted to let Paul court her, to smile and spend time with him. She wanted to laugh again, to press her cheek against his heartbeat and feel his arms around her.
Time and distance hadn’t changed her feelings for Paul. Instead, they’d made them stronger. And despite the protests of her conscience, she decided that the truth was better than silence.
Fumbling for something to say, she remarked, “Thank you for looking after my sister. It was good of you to come.”
“You’re welcome.” He waited a moment longer, but when she said nothing, he started to leave.
“You did frighten me that night when you kissed me,” Juliette blurted out, keeping her voice so low, he had to lean in to hear her. “Something changed between us.” A ripple of anticipation swelled up inside, and she felt as if she were about to stumble off a cliff, afraid to say too much.
“It did change,” he agreed, setting his bag down as he regarded her. “But I fear you’re becoming like Victoria was once, lass. Hiding yourself away from the world.”
His words knocked the air from her lungs as she recognized the truth of them.
“If you’re wanting me to leave and ne’er bother you again, that I’ll do. But if it’s fear holding you back, that’s another matter.”
Itwasfear, along with a terrible guilt. But his accusation, that she was becoming just like her sister Victoria, held the ring of truth. She had hidden herself away in London to be near her son. Although she’d gone to balls and soirées, her heart was never in them. Was he right? Was she letting her life slip away because she felt she didn’t deserve a better one?
“I can heal many wounds,” Paul said, nodding back toward Margaret. “I can sew together torn skin and mend broken bones. But there are some wounds that can nae be seen. They hurt as deeply as any other. But those canna be patched with bandages or medicines.”
Juliette’s hand moved to touch her heart, and it was beating so fast, she couldn’t calm it. He was right, though. She’d been wounded and scarred from losing Matthew. And now, she was beginning to lose herself.
“You’ll have to be healing those wounds yourself, lass. The question is whether you’ll run away… or try to start living by facing that pain.”
He reached for her hand again and said, “I’ll pray that your sister Victoria returns home safely.”
“So will I.” Her stomach was knotted with so many emotions. Fear for her sister… and fear that she was becoming just like her. She didn’t want her life to slip away into the shadows, and she sensed that if Paul left, it would be too easy to retreat from the world.
She took his other hand in hers, wishing she’d had more courage on that night in the garden. He studied her but revealed none of his thoughts. “Thank you for looking after Margaret.”
He nodded, and she glanced over and saw that her sister’s eyes were closed. Now was her chance to make things right with Paul. Slowly, she took his hands and guided them to her waist. Though it wasn’t exactly an embrace, it was an invitation.
She wanted to rest her cheek against his. She wanted him to say that everything would be all right with Victoria. That he would always be there for her. His palms were warm against her ribs, and his midnight-blue eyes held an enigmatic expression.
But instead of pulling her close, he let his hands fall to his sides. “Tonight is the last night I’ll be staying at your father’s house. I’ll bid you farewell, and I hope that one day you find your own happiness.” He bowed and departed, leaving her to stand alone.
This was it, then. He was leaving her. Why, then, did she feel like running after him, demanding that he stay? Inside, she was torn apart with regret.
He’s right. You have been hiding away like your sister.
