Unraveled By The Rebel by Michelle Willingham Page A

come to see her again. “I wanted to speak to you once more, before you returned to London. Will you walk with me through the glen?”
    She hesitated, glancing back at the house. Her mother was right. She shouldn’t encourage him, no matter what she might feel in his presence. He’d grown so handsome over the years, butthough he’d occasionally cloaked himself in the guise of a gentleman, there was something not quite tame about him.
    And you like it,
a sinful voice taunted her conscience.
    He reached into his coat and held out a small ball of fur. “I brought you something.”
    When she stepped closer, she saw that it was a tiny gray and white kitten. He held it out to her, and she suddenly understood that this man was not about to play fair with her heart. He fully intended to weaken her defenses, using any means necessary.
    In the early days of their letters, she had complained to him that her mother would never allow her to have a cat of her own. They were allowed in the stables, but never the house.
    “You remembered,” she said at last.
    “Aye.”
    When she took the ball of fur from him, his hands brushed hers. The slight touch flared up the feelings she was trying to lock away. Being anywhere near this man was an assault upon her heart. To distract herself, she focused all her attention upon the animal.
    The kitten reminded her of a white tiger, and its eyes held a seriousness, like the way Matthew had stared at her in the first minutes of his life. Her heart abruptly crumpled, and she cuddled the animal against her side. His tiny claws sank into the sleeve of her gown, but he appeared blissfully happy.
    Careful,
her heart warned. Paul knew her better than anyone, and it seemed that despite her warnings, he fully intended to court her. And that wasn’t right.
    “I shouldn’t keep him,” she confessed, even as the kitten nudged at her hand, letting out a tiny meow. “We’re traveling back to London, and he’d be frightened without a true home.”
    “But you want to keep him.” His gaze held steady, and when he started walking toward the glen, she found herself unable to do anything except follow. Juliette bundled the kitten beneath her coat and walked behind him.
    Her brain was crying out for her to thank him and leave. Although she knew it was perfectly safe to be alone with Paul Fraser—albeit improper—she found her willpower weakening. He was handsome, but the years had weathered his face, turning him fierce. He’d always been tall, but there was a lean strength to him, and a sense that he would never let any harm come to her.
    Immediately, she shut down the thought. Last night, she’d made it clear that there would not be anything more than friendship between them. Regardless of what he wanted to say to her, that could never change.
    “We won’t be walking too far,” Paul added. “Just over by the crofters’ tents.”
    He led her through the snow, upon a pathway trod by horses. A layer of ice had frozen on top, and he took her arm to keep her from falling. For a time, they walked together in silence, their breath frosted in the air. “The duke has promised to let them build their homes here.”
    “Is your mother dwelling among them?”
    He nodded. “And so am I. Until our house is rebuilt.”
    She sobered at that. The weather was freezing cold, not at all suited for anyone to sleep in tents. “The children should sleep in the stable until we have more shelters built.”
    “Aye, that would be best. We’ll be dividing up the land, and the building will start this morning. Soon enough, they’ll be safe and warm again.” His hand took hers, and the heat of his palm brought her comfort. Yet, when they stood at the top of the hill, overlooking the dozens of tents, she saw the visible signs of loss.
    Her family had been displaced by the fire, just as these folk had. It was only because of her sister’s marriage that they had a house to sleep in, instead of thin tents like the crofters.