Unraveled By The Rebel by Michelle Willingham Page B

The frigid wind made her grasp the edges of her coat, just imagining it.
    And Paul was living among them.
    “No one should have to live like this,” she whispered. “It’s too cold to survive.”
    “It is,” Paul agreed. “I’ve been tending the sick all winter. And more will die this month. Whether from starvation or cold, it’s all the same.” He pointed toward the rows of tents that had once held a place on her father’s land. “I’ll do what I can to save them.”
    She took his arm, leaning against him as they walked. “You’re needed here.”
    Especially after all the uprisings. When Lord Strathland had evicted the tenants, they’d had nowhere to go. It was one thing to drive out grown men… but when the elderly and children were forced out into the snow, tempers were rising hotter.
    “They should ne’er have been driven off their land to begin with,” he insisted. “Strathland is to blame. Him and his damned sheep.”
    The edge in his voice held hostility, and the cold that washed over her had nothing to do with the wintery weather. “He’s too powerful. None of us can stop him.”
    “I’ll stop him, Juliette.” He turned, his glare fierce. “I havena forgotten what Strathland did to my father.”
    Danger and vengeance simmered within his tone, and she took a step back. “If you raise a hand against Strathland, you’ll only be killed.”
    His father’s hanging had cast a pall over all of them. And although His Grace, the Duke of Worthingstone, had acquired Eiloch Hill from the earl after a gambling debt, few of the crofters were eager to live there. There were too many bad memories associated with the land.
    “I’m no’ a coward, Juliette. And I’ll see to it that the crofters have all that they need. No man will drive them away from their homes—especially Strathland.”
    “What will you do?”
    His gaze grew distant. “I’ve a few things in mind. My father’s family was…” His voice drifted off, as if he were reconsidering his words. “That is, my uncle may have some influence.”
    Juliette waited for him to continue, but he offered nothing else. A frown furrowed his face, as if his thoughts had gone elsewhere. “The crofters will be fine,” she reassured him. “Now that they’re away from Strathland, they can rebuild their lives.”
    “As you will?” he prompted.
    Though she knew he was referring to the fire that had destroyed their house, she focused on something else entirely:
away from Strathland.
    “Yes,” she answered. She fully intended to be hundreds of miles from Lord Strathland.
    Paul led her away from the crofters, and she adjusted the sleeping kitten in her arms. He saw the direction of her attention and asked, “What will you name him?”
    She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Do you have any suggestions?”
    A mischievous look came over his face. “My suggestions wouldna be appropriate, I fear.” He guided her deeper into the woods, until they were surrounded by trees. Several of the stouter limbs held a cloak of snow.
    “We had a wolfhound come to live with us once,” he continued. “You remember what I named him.”
    “Horse.” She’d nearly forgotten about the dog, after so long.
    “He was the size of one. When I was a lad, I tried to ride him, but the dog didna care for it.”
    The thought of Paul attempting to ride the animal amused her. “I don’t suppose he did.”
    Juliette studied the kitten and held him up. In a teasing voice, she suggested, “Should I confuse everyone and call him Dog?”
    His face softened. “Or you could call him ‘My Mind.’”
    At her confusion, he offered, “When he goes off mousing, you could say, ‘My Mind’s gone wandering off’ or ‘I’ve lost My Mind.’”
    She groaned at the thought. “That’s terrible.”
    “Aye.” His wicked smile warmed her, and she couldn’t resist one of her own. He tucked her arm in his as they kept walking, and his face softened for the barest moment. She found