“I was only thinking of—” She stopped, revising what she’d meant to say. “That is, I was wondering why you’ve stayed by my side for so long. Why you haven’t chosen another woman to wed.”
“They’re made of naught but ribbons, lace, and a bit of stuffing in their heads. I’d rather have your company.”
She tried to smile, venturing, “I’ve nothing but accounts and numbers in mine.”
But Paul only smiled and took her hand, his thumb rubbing circles over her glove. He hailed a hackney cab and gave the coachman an unfamiliar address. He guided her inside the vehicle, and her maid took her place next to the driver.
Juliette sat across from Paul, and when they had traveled past a few streets, she said, “I’m surprised you haven’t returned to Scotland by now.”
“You’ve no’ agreed to wed me yet,” Paul answered. “I’ll go, the moment you say aye and come with me.”
She sobered, knowing that although she felt safe with him, she could not marry him. Not until she was brave enough to speak the truth about what had happened to her. And he might no longer want her, once he knew it.
He leaned forward, resting his hands upon his knees. “Have you no’ enjoyed yourself these past few weeks?”
“I have.” But it wasn’t only the letters he’d sent or even the gifts. Her restlessness grew stronger as the days passed. She found herself entirely too fascinated by Paul, remembering the way he’d kissed her. She’d never expected to want a man to touch her again… but the lightest brush of his hand upon hers evoked a yearning.
She remembered his kiss and wondered if tonight he would steal another.
“Are you still afraid of marriage?” he asked.
“Not marriage,” Juliette corrected, her face flushing with color. “Only of what comes after that.” She stared out into the streets, knowing that her face was the color of a cranberry.
“Do you really think I’m the sort of man who would force you to share his bed, when you’re no’ wanting to?”
That made her sound as if she viewed him as a satyr. Even so, she admitted, “It’s a part of marriage that all husbands expect.”
His dark blue eyes flared. “If you’re feeling wary, lass, I’d rather wait until you’re wanting me in the same way.” At the rough tone of his baritone, a secret tremble flowed through her. “What happens between us in our bedroom is for none to say but us.”
“And if I—if I never wanted to?” she ventured, her voice in a whisper.
He leaned back, a cocky smile on his face. “Oh, I think you will, Juliette. Especially when I’ve shown you how much a woman can be pleasured with naught but my hands and mouth.”
Dear God. She could almost imagine it, his hands stroking her bare skin. Her body warmed to the vision, and the air within the cab seemed heavy and fraught with possibility.
“How much farther is it?” she asked, desperately needing to change the subject.
“A mile or so, I’d wager.” He had a knowing look on his face. “And I’ve made you uncomfortable, so I’ll ask how your sisters are.”
Grateful for the turn in conversation, she said, “Victoria’s baby will be born in the autumn.”
“I’m glad that she and the bairn are faring well.”
“So am I.” It was true, although she couldn’t help but remember her own nightmarish experience with childbirth. She didn’t envy Victoria that. “She’s staying in Scotland, though I don’t know why. Lord Strathland is there, and after what he did—”
“Let’s not speak of him,” Paul interrupted. “What’s done is done, and he’ll not harm your family again. The duke and all of us will see to it.”
She forced herself to nod, though she didn’t quite believe it. At least now, Worthingstone was there to protect her sister. And Juliette was grateful that Strathland was far away from London.
“How were you invited to thiscèilidh?” she asked. “Are the hosts friends of yours?”
“I’ve been visiting the wool merchants, and several of them are Scottish, like me.”
She stiffened at the mention of the wool. There was only one reason why Paul would concern himself with getting better acquainted with the merchants. “And why would you visit them? This isn’t about Strathland, is it?”
He met her gaze squarely. “And what if it is?”
Juliette was afraid to think of it. She’d tried to bury all memories of the earl, but if Paul was destroying the man’s income, it was a declaration of war. “What have you said to them?”
