Unraveled By The Rebel by Michelle Willingham Read Free Book Online Page A

already dead, Paul had no qualms about murdering him for what he’d done. When Sinclair didn’t answer, he repeated the question, grabbing the man by his shirt, letting the violence stream through him. “For God’s sake,
who
?”
    Sinclair’s face turned grim. “She wouldna say. But I took her to your mother’s house.”
    “My mother knew?” Though he’d seen Bridget a time or two, not a word had she spoken of Juliette.
    The darkness simmering within him threatened to erupt into a violent temper. For he hadn’t been there to rescue Juliette. She’d been unprotected… and Paul blamed himself for that. It was as if an invisible hand had reached inside and ripped him apart from the inside. Fury mingled with a drowning guilt and the need to make amends, to help her heal.
    “Bridget took care of her before I brought her home,” Sinclair admitted. “Your mother… helped fix her dress so that no one would know.” His friend shot him a warning look. “Lady Lanfordshire knows naught of this, nor her other daughters. If you say one word, I’ll be denying it with my last breath.”
    Though Paul nodded absently, his mind was reeling. “You should have told me sooner.” It seemed impossible that this could have happened to the girl he loved. That anyone would have harmed her. She had suffered from this and told no one. Not even her own family. And though his instincts wanted to rage at Sinclair for never telling him of it, he knew the man had kept the secret he’d been given.
    “You told me this, so I would no’ push her too hard,” he said dully.
    “Aye. She doesna trust men. And you can understand why she’s refusing to wed.” Cain crossed his arms over his chest. “I won’t be speaking of this again. I only told you because you should understand why she will no’ let any man close to her. If it’s Juliette you want, then you’ll have to be patient.”
    Patience was the last thing on Paul’s mind. He wanted vengeance against the man who had done this to her. Just imagining her terror numbed him from deep inside. She’d been alone, suffering through an attack that never should have happened.
    “I escorted her to London a few days later,” Sinclair continued. “She stayed with her aunt for a long time. I think she was avoiding Ballaloch.”
    And now that she’d returned, Juliette seemed eager to leave. It was possible that her attacker was still here.
    Paul let out a slow breath, wondering what he should do now. He couldn’t allow her to know that Sinclair had told him. But now, her reluctance made sense. Her innocence had been stolen from her. More than likely, he’d frightened her when he’d tried to hold her in the stable.
    “I need time to think,” he said to Sinclair at last. “But you’ve my thanks for telling me of this. I willna let on that I ken.”
    With that, Sinclair gave a nod and returned home, leaving Paul alone with his thoughts. He started walking toward the frozen loch in long strides, then he began to run along the edge. He could hardly see in front of him, save the reflection of the silvery ice against the moon. But he increased his pace, running hard, as if to punish himself.
    His lungs burned, and still he ran. He circled the loch, hardly caring that it was past midnight. He wouldn’t sleep this night. Not after what he’d learned.
    When his legs began to give out, he slowed down to a walk, his breathing unsteady. His ribs felt as if someone had driven a red-hot knife into them, and he reached down for a smooth stonealong the edge of the loch. He gripped the edges and hurled it hard, letting it crack against the ice.
    It had been over a year since she was attacked. He understood now why Juliette had stopped answering his letters. Why she’d withdrawn from the world, claiming she would marry no man and that she had nothing left to give. A woman who had been violently hurt would want nothing to do with men.
    Paul walked through the glen, letting the thoughts pour over