“No’ for me.” He gripped her in his arms and said, “Give me your trust, Juliette. I won’t be running off like a lad of seven and ten, bent on murder.”
It wasn’t entirely the truth, but she didn’t need to be any more afraid than she already was.
A tear rolled down her face, and he wiped it away with his thumb. Seeing her like this only fueled the rage against the man who had hurt her.
“It was Brandon Carlisle,” she said softly. “The Earl of Strathland.”
And there it was. The truth he’d never wanted to hear from her lips.
The moment she voiced the answer, his emotions solidified into one purpose—to kill the man who had taken so much away from those he loved. Poverty wasn’t enough anymore.
He wanted the earl no longer breathing.
In her eyes, he saw the fear that she’d said too much. To comfort her, Paul tightened his arms around her, fighting to calm the storm of rage and disbelief. He focused on breathing in the scent of her hair, trying to will himself not to release the fury inside him.
A twitching anger stretched his skin tighter, winding him up like a clockwork spring, renewing his desire to bring Strathland to ruin. He could hardly hear any of the words she said, and it took an effort to breathe.
“I wanted to die that night,” Juliette confessed. “I almost didn’t come home. I wished he had killed me. I—I couldn’t tell anyone, but your mother and Mr. Sinclair helped me.” She clutched his hand, shuddering. “Strathland wanted to marry me, and I’d refused him. This was his way of punishing me, of forcing me into marriage. I knew if I stayed, he would tell my parents. So I fled Scotland to my aunt Charlotte’s, leaving only a note for my mother. Mr. Sinclair helped me to reach London safely.”
She poured out the rest of the story, of her shame and the pregnancy that followed. He understood that she’d done what she’d had to, to escape. But now, Strathland was threatening her again.
“If you no longer wish to marry me, I would understand,” Juliette finished. “I know I’m no longer a wife any man would want. I’m ruined.”
“You should have told me.” He tilted her face to look at him. “I would have helped you, lass. You shouldn’t have suffered through it alone.”
“Please don’t tell anyone of this. Only a few people know of it.”
“Is that the reason you’re wanting to remain in London? Because of your son?”
She nodded. “I wish I could have kept him.” Her eyes lit up as she described the infant boy. “Matthew is an innocent in all this. But he’s perfect. The sweetest boy I’ve ever seen. When he laughs—” Her voice caught in her throat, and she smiled through her tears. “It breaks my heart to see him. And yet, I need to be near him.”
“Will you tell him the truth, one day?”
Her smile faded. “I can’t. As my aunt’s son, he will inherit the title of earl and all of their estates. If anyone knew he’s illegitimate, he would have nothing.”
She closed her eyes for a moment as if to blot out the pain. “You deserve children, Paul. And I can never give you that. It isn’t fair to you, to take me as your wife.”
“And it isna fair for you to walk away from the life you wanted, because of Strathland.” His hand moved down to her shoulder. The rain had stopped, and he lowered the umbrella. Her bonnet was soaked, and he loosened the ties.
“We could be happy together, Juliette. Even without children.” Though he would have loved a son or daughter with her smile, he wanted Juliette more.
“I don’t believe that,” she whispered. “You were meant to be a father. And I can’t imagine you being happy with me in a marriage like this.” She reached for his hand and tightened her gloved fingers around it. “I care enough about you to let you go.”
He drew back to look into her eyes. “Do you believe that you’ve no right to be happy?”
Confusion clouded her face, and she didn’t have an answer for him.
“What happened to you was no’ your fault,” he said. “You were his victim, no’ his lover. And you shouldna lose out on the rest of your life because of that.”
She rested her palms upon his chest, her expression shocked. It was as if she’d lived with the burial shroud of her sins for so long, she didn’t know how to cast it off.
“I’d be lying if I said I didna want to share your bed,” he admitted. “But there are ways a man and a woman can touch one another without risk of a babe. Or don’t you remember that night at thecèilidh?”
She flushed at the mention of it, and Paul reached up to cup her cheek. “We’ll try it, Juliette. If it means living with you, sharing a life with you, ’twill be worth it.”
“I fear you’ll grow to hate me one day.”
Her words offended him. “Icancontrol my urges,” he said. “Though I might want to be with you, I ken when to stop.”
