“Brilliant,” Billy said, a wide grin on his face, and then turned around to look behind him. As Duncan watched him, his exuberance fled, to be replaced by a flash of panic.
“Mary!” he called out, and then crossed the room to the corner, where his wife was bent over double on the chesterfield. Jane was already there, one hand rubbing her sister’s back. Duncan’s first instinct was to follow, but to do what? He was a houseguest, and no longer anything more than that. He was good for things like carrying Christmas trees, but he had no place in an intimate family moment.
Billy bent and lifted his wife in his arms, pushing past concerned family members as he carried her up the stairs. Jane rushed into the kitchen, disappearing for a few minutes until she emerged carrying a mug of what must be hot liquid from the way she cupped it gingerly in her hands. Still wearing her cloak, she took to the stairs and was soon out of Duncan’s sight.
He looked around the room at all of Billy’s family, who slowly returned to their conversations, some of them even beginning to place an assortment of items on the tree in the corner, such as popcorn garland and candles. Bizarre, Duncan thought, shaking his head, his mind occupied by what was going on upstairs above him.
Realizing he had his own cloak still wrapped over his shoulders, he shrugged it off to place it in his room.
No one else seemed to notice as he ascended the staircase, and he had no sooner placed his cloak on the bed than he heard voices down the hallway.
“I thought you were here to help!” Billy’s normally pleasant voice rang out, and Duncan was about to step into the corridor when Jane’s calm voice came wafting down toward him.
“I am,” she said softly. “Unfortunately, I do not believe there is much else that can be done besides ensuring that she gets plenty of rest. We must also make sure that she eats every few hours through the day, and that she drinks whenever she is able. She has become sick so often that dehydration is a worry.”
“You said that before.”
“When I first arrived, yes I did,” Jane said, and Duncan could sense from her tone that she intended to say more. He willed her to, and finally she did. “I wish you had written to me sooner, when she first became so ill.”
“She’s been ill the entire pregnancy. I know it’s common, especially at first, so we thought nothing of it.”
“She can hardly keep anything down. If I had to guess, I would say she weighs less than she did before.”
Billy sighed, and Duncan could hear him beginning to pace the floor.
“What have you given her?”
“Ginger tea, as usual,” Jane said, before her tone turned to one of some despair. “There is not much more I can do. I feel rather ineffectual, if I am being honest.”
“No, no,” Billy said, his voice contrite. “You’ve been a blessing since you arrived, Jane. I can tell Mary finds solace just from your presence.”
“I am supposed to be a healer,” Jane responded, “and yet I haven’t been much help.”
The conversation was interrupted when a great retching sounded from the room beyond them, and they both rushed through the bedroom door.
Duncan, feeling the voyeur but concerned about what was occurring in the next room, stepped out into the hall, finding a view through the door across from him. Mary lay on the bed, crimson curtains surrounding her, leaning over a bowl. Billy wasn’t in Duncan’s view, although he supposed he was likely standing across from her. Jane sat on the edge of the bed next to Mary, gently soothing her hair back away from her head as she murmured in Mary’s ear what Duncan could only assume were calming words of encouragement.
When Mary seemed to recover for a moment, Jane raised the cup of tea to her sister’s lips as she placed a cloth on her brow.
Duncan sank back into the shadows as he crossed the corridor and returned downstairs. Jane’s tender ministrations had shaken him. This was her sister, yes, but it was not only the care she provided… it was her competency and her calm demeanor that he so admired.
He rubbed two fingers against his temple as the din below him rose to meet him once he came to the landing of the staircase. He reached a hand out to the railing, but quickly pulled it away when it met something rather prickly. More greenery?
Duncan looked up with a shock to see that the Miller family had filled every available space in the room, with both themselves as well as decorations of one sort or the other.
“What in the world…”
“Isn’t it lovely?”
He looked to the side to see Mrs. Miller’s smiling face.
“We have always been rather enthusiastic regarding the Christmas celebration,” she said. “Now that my Billy is a minister, it has taken on a much more special meaning. With poor Mary, the dear, being laid up as she is, we decided that we best come help.”
“Help?” was all Duncan managed.
“With the decorations!” she exclaimed. “Billy has the largest house, so he always hosts Christmas dinner, you see. We wanted to have everything prepared. Will you be joining us, Mr. McDougall?”
“Well, I—” He had hoped he would have been able to convince Jane to leave by then, but now, after seeing her upstairs and knowing just how concerned she was… “I suppose I will be.”
“Splendid,” she said, clapping her hands together, and Duncan wondered if she had any idea that he was the man who was supposed to have married her son’s wife. Likely not. “Oh, and here comes your Jane now.”
There it was again — the supposition that Jane was his — only this time, it came from another and not his own innermost thoughts. He followed Mrs. Miller’s gaze up the staircase to find that Jane’s gaze was upon him. It was troubled, and despite all of the merry chaos around him, he could think of nothing but meeting her at the bottom of the stairs to provide her with whatever she currently needed.
Jane gazed at the throng that filled the room, and was struck with the wish that they would all simply disappear. Which was an awful thought, for she knew that they were all there to support Mary and Billy.
It was just, at that moment, she needed some peace and calming of her own, after continually providing it for Mary.
She met Duncan’s crystal-blue eyes and found herself drawn to them, somehow knowing that within them she would find the peace she was looking for — as strange as that was, for there was nothing peaceful about the man. And yet, he was steady. Sure. A rock in the turbulent waters that were swirling around her.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, he was there, a hand at her elbow, and before she knew what was happening, he was steering her toward the front door, onto the step, and then onto the road beyond.
“What are we doing?” she asked, and he looked down at her with his jaw set determinately.
“Your cheeks are flushed and you looked as though all you wanted to do was escape. You still have your cloak on, so I thought perhaps a bit of air would do you some good.”
“But Duncan, it’s freezing!” she exclaimed, taking stock of his dress. “And you have no outerwear on!”
“I can keep myself warm,” he said with a shrug. He had spent enough winter days visiting McDougall crofters. He could take a few moments of chill. In fact, until Jane had mentioned it, he hadn’t even realized how cold it had become in such a short time. “Now tell me, Jane,” he said, his voice softening. “What’s wrong with your sister?”
She sighed then as he began leading her over to the fence that ran along the lane. He propped his boot up against one of the bottom boards when they reached it, and she turned around and leaned her back against it as she turned her face up toward him while describing her sister’s condition.
“Duncan, I’m not even entirely sure what is wrong. When she left Scotland, I knew she was expecting, and she had confided in me that she was feeling rather poorly — but so are most women early along. But then a few weeks later she wrote to me, telling me that not only was the illness continuing, but she was becoming violently ill and could hardly keep down
any food. She had seen the physician, but he laughed off her concerns, telling her that she simply had conditions of pregnancy. I’ve heard of this before — an illness that continues throughout, with no relief until the baby is born. There is not much that can be done besides rest, allowing for more time between meals, and only eating a few bites at a time. Drinking is key, and I find ginger helps ease the stomach pain.”
Duncan nodded slowly. “Smart.”
“She places such faith in me, and yet I feel as though I am doing so little,” Jane said, her voice despondent, and Duncan stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
“From what I can see, you are doing more than what most people would do — leaving your home and all you have ever known to live in a strange city awaiting the birth of your niece or nephew. You have a way about you, Jane. One that I greatly admire.”
Her cheeks turned a becoming pink then, and Duncan wasn’t sure how much was from his words and how much was from the wind and the cold.
“You’re just being kind.”
“I am not,” he insisted, as it somehow became vitally important that this woman know the truth about herself. “I know…” he swallowed hard, “I know when I arrived, I was a bit of an ass, not knowing who you were and all that.”
“A bit of an ass?” she repeated, her words accompanied by a little trill of laughter. “I’ll say.”
Duncan grinned sheepishly. “Abducting a lass isn’t the key to her heart?”
“Well, I admit that there is the potential of some romance to it, depending on how one looks at—” Jane stopped suddenly, turning and looking up into his eyes, her own wide. “Are you saying that you—”
Duncan didn’t let her finish the sentence. Before she could say another word, he leaned in and captured those pert, pink lips with his. He hadn’t planned on kissing her. In fact, had he any forethought, he would have told himself that to do so was a very bad idea, indeed. For Jane was not the kind of woman one simply kissed. She was the kind of woman one committed to, promising much more than a short dalliance or a simple show of affection.
But it was too late now to think any further on it. He wrapped his arms around her, not cold at all with the slight bluster of wind that had arisen but rather heated all the way through. Her body, soft and pliant, was pressed up against his, which sent his mind wandering in all sorts of directions — like inside and upstairs, or back to the uncomfortable, threadbare bed where they had first slept together.
Only, this time, if he had her in a bed, he knew they would do far more than sleep.
What the devil had this woman done to him?
And, as a better question, just how was he going to respond?
Chapter 8
There were many things Jane should be doing right now.
She should be with her sister, ensuring that she was feeling well and was taken care of.
She should be inside, performing hosting duties as Mary was most certainly not feeling up to it.
She should be preparing refreshments for the many people who were currently congregating within.
She should not be kissing Duncan McDougall. Certainly not here in the middle of the street, where anyone could look out any one of the many front-facing windows and catch the two of them in the midst of it.
But at the moment, she wasn’t sure how she could possibly tear herself away.
Her fingers bit into his muscular biceps, feeling the strength coursing through them. He could lift her and carry her off likely with hardly any effort at all. He was the very epitome of power, which should scare her.
For the problem was, as much as Jane was well aware that the last man she should ever develop feelings for was the one who had once been betrothed to her sister, she couldn’t help the fluttering in her stomach whenever he was near, nor the way she seemed tuned to his very presence whenever he entered a room, nor the thrill that tingled down her spine when he whispered in her ear.
And now as he kissed her… his lips were hard, firm, and unrelenting as they pressed on hers. Jane had been kissed before, but never like this. Duncan’s stubborn obstinance may have proven to cause her more than her share of annoyance over the past couple of days, but she could no longer complain about the fact that when this man set out to do something, he did it with purpose.
He lifted his hands to cup her face, his fingertips threading into her hair, and despite the chill in the air around them, his hands were warm, heat coursing through them and right into her very being.
He placed gentle pressure on the side of her head, tilting it to the side, which Jane realized provided better access. She was startled when his tongue touched the seam of her lips, and when she opened to him, it swept into her mouth, and she emitted an involuntary gasp at the shock.
A noise that was akin to a growl rose from the back of his throat, and Jane sank into his arms, seemingly losing all her breath as she was surrounded by his very essence. His scent filled her, his touch thrilled her, and his presence overwhelmed all rational thought.
As Jane lifted her hands around his neck and pressed herself in close to him, all she could think was more. More of this. More of him. More than she had any right to want.
Jane nearly forgot where they were, what they were doing, and who might see them, until she felt a tap on her leg.
She pushed back and away from Duncan so quickly she almost fell, but he reached out a hand and caught her.
“Miss Jane?”
It was one of Billy’s nieces, who was currently looking back and forth between Duncan and Jane with a curious expression on her eight-year-old face.
“Amelia!” Jane exclaimed, her cheeks now flaming despite the cold. “What are you doing out here, sweetheart?”
“Auntie Mary was looking for you,” she said, her nose already turning red. “I saw you out the window, so I came to find you.”
“Thank you, dear,” Jane said, pressing her fingers to her lips as though that would erase the child’s memory of what she had just witnessed. “We are coming in in just a moment. Mr. McDougall and I have to… talk about something.”
Amelia nodded and ran back toward the house, although she stopped for one final look behind her before pushing the door open.
Jane paused for a moment, willing the courage to be able to look up at Duncan. When she finally did, she almost wished she hadn’t, for his lips were trembling as though they just might break into a smile.
“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “that was—”
“Rather inopportune timing,” she finished for him, and his thick eyebrows winged up in surprise.
“I thought you would have a rather different opinion,” he said gruffly. “I was ready for the speech about how this was all a mistake.”
“It if was a mistake,” she said slowly, cautiously, “then I would have ensured it had never occurred in the first place.”
With that, she turned and re-entered the house. For if she stayed, she didn’t want to think about just what else this man’s presence might cause her to do.
Duncan would never have thought it possible to avoid a person while living together in a house as small as that which Billy Miller owned.
But it seemed that Jane was completely capable of doing so. For the two days following their kiss in the street outside the window, Duncan had hardly seen her. He had followed her back inside the house, and as they were basically ignored by all within, he had been of the impression that they had gone unnoticed — with the exception of little Amelia, of course.
It seemed that Billy’s brother Nick had spent a great deal of time watching Jane, and had not been shy about conversing with her whenever he found the opportunity.
Duncan McDougall was many things, however, and one of them was belief in his attractiveness to women. He knew that when Jane looked at him, there was a spark in her eye and a bashfulness in her posture that was completely absent when in the presence of any other man. He had felt the touch of her lips on his and the innocence of her tongue,
and had recognized the response of her own desire.
Which was why he had been particularly intrigued by what might next occur between them.
But so far, nothing.
To be fair, Jane had been spending a great deal of time with her sister. Mary was having a particularly bad bout of illness, Billy had told Duncan that evening as they sat together after dinner. The two of them would certainly never become fast friends — they were far too different from one another, notwithstanding that Billy had married Duncan’s fiancée — but nevertheless, they had developed a certain ease around one another. There was also an understanding that the two of them were, in essence, on the outside of the close bond that existed between the sisters.
“You know,” Billy began tonight as he passed Duncan a drink. Duncan had to concede that the Englishman did have a fine selection of alcohol. “You should think about what you will give Jane for Christmas.”
“Pardon me?” Duncan said, choking at the thought as he took his first sip while Billy spoke.
“A gift,” Billy repeated. “We often give them to our loved one at Christmas. I thought perhaps Jane would like something.”
“Why ever would she want something from me?” Duncan asked, raising his hands in the air, palms up, and Billy looked at him as though he were daft.
“If you do not think she would expect something from you, then so be it,” Billy said with a shrug, “but she might like it.”
“She and I…” Duncan began to deny it to Billy, but found that he couldn’t actually form the words. For he rather liked the thought that the two of them were considered to be together.
“You get on well, do you not?” Billy said, leaning forward in his chair expectantly.
“We hardly know one another,” Duncan finished, although an idea began forming in his mind, one that he didn’t care to share with Billy.
“But—”
His words were cut off when a knock sounded on the door. Billy and Duncan exchanged a look before Billy rose to answer it.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1) Page 76