Duncan knew that he had far too much to drink last night. But he and Niall and Keith had begun telling stories of their youth, and the next thing he knew, all of the ale was gone and when he stood up the small house seemed as though it was tilting on its axis around him. Had he not had so much to drink, he never would have gone into the bedroom to find his plaid — and he certainly never would have agreed to her suggestion that he lie down next to her.
He knew she had asked in all of her innocence. For little did she know what she had done to him. He had been enticed by the thought of a warm bed for the evening — and a warm body beside him, even if he had no intentions of touching her.
Only… once he had slid between his own plaid and the blanket beneath him, he was far too aware of her. Thank goodness he had not drunk quite so much that he was unable to maintain a sense of control and keep himself from attempting anything with her. For he knew how that would have ended.
He had noted, however, that she had inched closer to him, and he could only guess that she was cold. And so, once she was sleeping, he had turned over and gently laid an arm around her, tugging her close to him. She had curled up into his chest like a little cat and slept soundly the rest of the night.
While he hadn’t slept a wink.
Now, here they were, on the doorstep of the very man who had stolen his fiancée away from him. And Duncan was about to beg hospitality. It tore him in two to think of it.
All for this stubborn little lass beside him.
She slipped past him now and entered before him, a spicy cinnamon scent lingering after her, and Duncan frowned when he found himself strangely stirred by her presence. Jane Campbell should mean nothing to him. She was just a woman who was in his way, who was preventing him from doing his duty as a Highland chieftain – a future one, anyway. It may not mean much anymore, but it was still a responsibility he was proud of. He would protect his people and do all that was required of him, whether it was expected or not. Even if it meant staying here with the damn English.
The drawing room at the front of the house was comfortable — and quiet. He hadn’t been able to see much of it in the dark the previous night. The furniture was oversized and obviously well-used, the two chairs and sofa in a worn gold floral pattern situated around a small scarred oak table in the middle. He could see through the arched doorway into the dining room in the back, while a narrow staircase in the corner of the room led up to where he assumed the bedrooms to be.
“See?” he said, opening his arms wide. “No one even missed you.”
“Jane!”
Perhaps he had spoken too soon.
Mary Campbell — though if she was truly married he supposed that was not her name anymore — was descending the stairs as fast as she was able to with the weight of her protruding stomach. She was followed closely by a tall, lean, bespectacled man who hurried after her with concern on his face.
“Not so fast, Mary,” he was saying in a soft voice. “We must be careful. Think of the babe. Oh, Jane, thank—”
They both came to a stop on the bottom stair as they saw that Jane was not alone.
“Duncan,” Mary breathed, her eyes wide and her voice incredulous. “What are you doing here? Jane, what… why…?”
“It’s a long story,” Jane said, and Duncan murmured a soft thank you in her ear for not telling the entire sordid tale. It would sound rather untoward if she told them that he had abducted her in the middle of the night — even if it was the truth.
“Where have you been?” Mary asked, her eyes traveling up and down Jane’s clothing from the day before. Mary and Jane had quite a similar look, Duncan realized now as he regarded his former betrothed. Mary was striking — she always had been — but there was a demure softness to Jane that he found he rather preferred. He could hardly believe he had never noticed her before. Perhaps it was because she had always been in Mary’s shadow.
“Why don’t we sit down for some breakfast?” Jane asked. “I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea.”
“Of course,” Mary said, nodding her head graciously. She looked over to Duncan, tilting her head as she studied him. “Will you be staying for breakfast?”
“Aye,” he said, deciding to allow Jane to break the news that he hoped to stay much longer than breakfast. He figured he should wait a moment or two before asking the man who had cuckolded him if he could bed down in his house for the next few weeks.
He and the man who Mary had preferred stared at one another in open curiosity and contempt. What was it about this tall, thin Englishman that was so superior to him? Duncan was well aware that he had his shortcomings, but it wasn’t particularly helpful to his ego for this to be the favorite.
But William Miller was obviously a gentleman through and through, for he made a short, small bow to Duncan and then held out a hand toward the dining room as an invitation for him to enter.
“Have you a cook?” Duncan asked as he dodged the orange cat on his way into the room, and William shook his head.
“Not at this time. We hope to hire one soon. Jane has offered to help our maid with some of those duties while Mary is taking more time to rest.”
“I see,” Duncan said, not liking the thought of Jane doing the labor for this man and her sister, although he was well aware that she had likely offered the idea up herself.
Instead of taking a seat at the dining room table, he followed her to the small kitchen in the back. Jane was already quickly and efficiently frying eggs and ham and slicing tomatoes.
“So you’re the help, then,” he said, and when she met his gaze it was not overly friendly.
“I am helping my sister, if that is what you are inferring,” she said, her words short. “Why are you in the kitchen?”
“To offer my assistance,” he said, searching through a drawer until he found a knife, and then he began slicing bread that had been left out on the counter — likely baked by Jane herself.
“I don’t need your help,” she said, and he had the feeling that she was not just referring to breakfast. “Besides, you take up far too much space in here and make it much more difficult for me to cook.”
“I’ll stay out of your way,” he said, meaning it, as he moved to the side.
“You just didn’t want to stay out there with my sister and her husband,” Jane said, looking up with pointed blue eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile guiltily.
“There might be some truth to that,” he said as he sliced through the bread. “What the devil was I supposed to say? Congratulations on your new babe, conceived right under all of our noses? I think not.”
“Perhaps,” Jane said, her long hands quick and efficient as she went through the motions of cooking breakfast, “it would be best if you and Billy and Mary had a discussion about it all. Put everything you are feeling out into the open so that you can move on from it. Especially if you will be living under the same roof.”
She looked up at him expectantly, but he could only stare at her. Was she serious?
“I don’t think so,” he choked out, and she shrugged.
“Suit yourself. But I’m sure Billy might try to speak to you about it. He is a minister, as you know—”
“I do. ’Tis why I cannot physically challenge him for what he did with Mary.”
Jane eyed him with some disdain. “Why would you fight him? He and Mary chose each other. It is not as though he meant to hurt you.”
“It is a matter of honor.”
He said the words with enough finality that she dropped the subject — thank goodness.
Soon enough she had efficiently prepared a breakfast much more extravagant than Duncan would have ever thought necessary and they returned to the dining room — only to find that Billy was gone.
“I’m ever so sorry,” Mary said, biting her lip, “but Billy was called away and I’m afraid my stomach is in knots at the moment, so neither of us will be joining you for breakfast.”
“After all that Jane just did?” Duncan asked, becoming rath
er heated once more, but Jane set down the dishes and put a hand on his arm.
“It’s fine,” she said calmly. “Now, tell me what’s wrong, Mary.”
“Nothing but the usual,” Mary said, though even Duncan could tell that her smile was forced. Now that he had the chance to take a closer look, he found that she was quite pale. Despite her obviously more advanced stages of pregnancy, aside from her rounded stomach she seemed almost… gaunt.
He was suddenly far too aware as to why Jane was worried.
“I shall be fine after I lie down for awhile.”
“Do call for me if you need anything, Mary. After you sleep, I will bring you some broth.”
“Thank you, Jane. And afterwards,” she looked to Duncan, “I will be quite interested in an explanation.”
The sisters shared a smile that spoke more than their words did, of how much they cared for one another and were willing to do for each other. For a moment, a sense of shame washed over Duncan for questioning that Mary wasn’t being fair to Jane.
“If you’re waiting me out, Duncan,” Jane said as though reading his thoughts, though she didn’t even turn around to look at him, “you’d best have a great deal of patience.”
She turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder. “I’m going to change before breakfast. But,” she began walking toward the stairs now, pausing on the bottom step to look back at him, “if you so insist on staying, I hope you are prepared for a very Merry Christmas.”
Chapter 5
This time, Duncan insisted that Jane allow him to help prepare dinner. She had asked if he had ever done so before, to which he only shrugged noncommittedly. They had people to do that for them at Galbury Castle, and he always had much else to do.
But he was so very bored, and if he didn’t do something to keep his hands busy, then he just might go mad, and he didn’t think he could leave the house until he had actually spoken to Billy Miller and determined that he would be welcome if he returned.
His honor might have been bruised, but he wasn’t about to let it take a beating — which was exactly what would happen if he returned to the Highlands without both Mary and Jane.
The four of them took a seat around the circular oak dining table. Jane was to Duncan’s left while Mary was to his right, with Billy across from him. Before they began eating, Billy motioned their hands up. He joined hands with Jane and Mary, then motioned for Duncan to do the same.
Duncan looked from Jane to Mary, before the two sisters both raised their hands to him, Mary with hostility and Jane with hesitation. Duncan could do nothing but take them both. Mary’s hand was dry, her fingers cold, while Jane’s long fingers were warm within his, and curled around his palm in such a way that he almost thought they were curling around his heart.
Which was ludicrous.
He had never heard the prayer before, and when he looked up at the others with their bowed heads, he saw that Jane also didn’t seem to be familiar with it, for she kept her lips pressed together, her eyes closed as well.
Finished, Billy sat back, tucked a napkin into his collar, picked up his fork and knife, and began to eat. Duncan saw Jane and Mary exchange a look, however, as though there was no such way they could similarly begin their dinner before they addressed all that was weighing between them.
Tense silence filled the room, and when Duncan finally cleared his throat, he saw Jane jump at the noise.
“So, Duncan,” Mary began before he could say anything, and he sighed inwardly. Mary had always been one of the most forthright women — nay, make that people — he had ever met. Although now, a tired air masked her countenance. “Jane tells me that you came to London in order to return me home.”
Duncan looked over at Jane, who didn’t meet his eyes, but instead looked down at her plate. He smiled somewhat bitterly.
“I did,” he said, placing his fork down on the table, suddenly lacking an appetite. “But from what Jane tells me, my efforts are in vain.”
“Yes, of course,” she said with a nod. “But even if I was not married and expecting, do tell me, Duncan, why would you presume that I would ever want to go home with you? I came all the way to London for a reason. For that matter, why would you want a woman who does not want you?”
Duncan bristled at her words, for they reduced him to nothing more than a lovesick young pup, which he most certainly was not.
“I did not come to retrieve you for myself,” he said, straightening his spine. “I came at your father’s behest.”
“My father’s?” she repeated, raising her eyebrows.
“Aye.” He nodded. “You have no brothers, and I didn’t think your father should be making the journey all the way to London. I promised to see this through for him.”
Mary scoffed. “The Scottish pride. Do not all of you consider that part of the reason I welcomed the opportunity to live in London — with Billy—” Billy nodded his head and waved his hand at her, “was because I desired to get away from the life I was living? You arrogant Highlanders are always on about your honor, when your honor is nothing more than foolish arrogance.”
“Mary,” Jane cut in softly, “I don’t know that you need to—”
“I do,” Mary said before turning back to Duncan. “I should have broken things off with you before running away, but Duncan, there was nothing to break off. You and I had nothing more than an arrangement which our fathers agreed to years ago. The two of us hardly knew one another, and it would never have worked between us. It is better that I left.”
“Perhaps,” Duncan agreed, and Mary opened her mouth as though to argue but then closed it again.
“Pardon me?”
“I said, perhaps you are right.”
And she was. Mary was far too brash and a touch conceited. Oh, she had her good qualities as well — clearly, for Jane appeared to love her more than anyone — but she and Duncan would have spent their lives at one another’s throats. She had a point — he was mostly insulted that she had chosen another over him.
“Oh,” Mary said, sitting back, exchanging glances with her husband, who smiled wryly. “I see. Will you be returning to Scotland soon, then?” she asked, and now it was Jane’s turn to look at him imploringly, as though she hoped that his mind had changed since arriving at Mary and Billy’s house.
“No,” he said, his lips curling at Mary’s look of surprise. Even Billy looked up from his food. “I am staying until Jane is ready to return.”
“But—” Mary began, looking from Jane to Duncan and back to Jane. “Jane, you said you would stay until the baby comes, and that is at least another month or two!”
“I will, Mary, not to worry,” Jane said, reaching out to place a hand overtop of Mary’s.
“But then why did Duncan say—”
“I suppose I will be staying until the bairn comes as well,” he said with a great exhale as Mary’s eyes widened ever further.
“Where shall you stay?” she asked, looking around as though she would be able to find a place for him in this very dining room.
“Well—”
“I’m assuming McDougall here is hoping to stay with us,” Billy said, eyeing Duncan from across the table. “Is that not right?”
A pit of unease began to form in Duncan’s stomach. He wasn’t enjoying any aspect of this entire situation, least of all the thought of staying with his former betrothed and her husband. And then there was Jane. He glanced over at her, and she met his gaze with equal, steady resolve in her blue eyes.
“Aye,” Duncan grunted, although he kept his eyes on Jane instead of his host. “If ye have a spare bed, I would most appreciate it.”
He only hoped Jane would come to her senses sooner rather than later.
Jane had never spent a more uncomfortable dinner in her life. It didn’t help to realize that there would be many more of these in her near future.
“So, Billy — can I call you Billy?” Duncan asked, apparently much more at ease now that the formalities of his stay had bee
n taken care of. “You are a vicar, then?”
“At St. Anthony’s. I’m sure you saw it on your arrival,” Billy said. “You could call me Father Bill.”
“I could,” Duncan said, but his forced grin told Jane that he was going to do as he pleased.
“Since you will be here over the Christmas season,” Billy said, his own smile now causing Jane to suspect he was going to best Duncan, which would certainly not go over well, “I could use a hand around here.”
“Oh?”
“Aye, as you Scots would say,” Billy said, the sides of his moustaches quirking up. “There is much to be done. We must find the Yule log, hunt for the Christmas tree, string up the decorations, and cook a feast for my family.”
“Your family comes?” Duncan said, and Jane was about to laugh until he took on an ill look.
“Oh, yes,” Billy said. “There’s a whole lot of them. My mother of course, and then my brothers and sisters and their spouses and children, my sister and her son, not to mention aunts, uncles, cousins… no one enjoys Christmas as much as the Miller family.”
“Wonderful,” Duncan said wryly, catching Jane’s eye, and she heard him mutter something about an “abundance of English.” Mary obviously heard it as well, for she glared at him, while Jane coughed in order to cover her laugh.
Duncan grinned at her, and she shook her head to discourage such behaviour, although she had to admit that Billy, while seemingly perfect for Mary, was rather difficult to take after a time. He had this self-righteousness that was, Jane could admit, a bit hypocritical when he had run off with a woman who had been pledged to another man. Even if that woman had no intention of wedding her first betrothed.
Jane could vividly recall every moment of the night Mary had come to say goodbye. She had implored Jane not to say anything until morning, to give her time to put a great distance behind her home. Jane had reluctantly agreed, never telling her father that she had prior knowledge of Mary’s departure.
She had never seen her father more upset. He was angry, true, but Jane’s heart had tugged at her when her father had looked up and asked, “What are we going to tell the McDougalls?”
Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1) Page 74