Duncan’s Christmas: The Victorian Highlanders Prequel

by St. Clair, Ellie

  “Your eyes are too rich, lad!” Billy called back good-naturedly. “For one, my drawing room is not high enough, and secondly, my pocketbook is not full enough!”

  The adults had a laugh at that, while they all continued on to look for what they called “the perfect tree.”

  Duncan could only stand there and scratch his head. The evergreens were like a forest in and of themselves here in this city block, some greenery among the brown landscape of winter.

  “You must admit that it is rather lovely to see some nature in the midst of London,” Jane said, looking up at him with a dreamy smile. “And that smell.” She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. “Isn’t it heavenly, Duncan?”

  She was right. The scent filling his nostrils was both fresh and freeing. And yet… it was not the scent that currently had him so captivated, but the sight in front of him. Jane’s dark brown hair was pulled back softly at the nape of her neck, her cape draped around her shoulders and her head tilted up to the sky while her entire being was backdropped by the tree shop behind her. She was, quite honestly, a vision.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him expectantly, making him realize that she had asked him a question which he had completely forgotten to answer.

  “I’m sorry… what was that?”

  “I said, does it not smell heavenly?” she repeated, a bit self-consciously now, as though his lack of response had been a failing on her own part. “A silly question, perhaps.”

  “Not at all,” he said gruffly. “You are right. I can admit that it is quite… lovely.”

  She laughed lightly, her chuckle a little thrill that warmed him through. He longed to reach out and stroke her cheek, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked. Which was ridiculous. Duncan was not a man who had ever been reduced to such romantic notions. He was a Highlander — one who, despite the fact everything had changed a century ago, still maintained as many traditions of his ancestors as possible in their current reality.

  “Come,” she said, tilting her head. “Let’s go look.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not going in there.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because, I—”

  He had no answer, really. Somehow, he had the sense that by following the Millers, he was giving in to everything they were and weakening the barrier he had placed between himself and the English.

  “You have no answer to that,” she finished for him quite correctly. When she then tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow and began leading him, he found that he was not physically strong enough to resist her.

  He, Duncan McDougall, who had never lost a fight and intimidated everyone he met, was bested by this little slip of a woman — one whom he had not even noticed the previous times they had apparently met. What was wrong with him?

  When Jane looked at him with that expectation in her eyes, it was as if there was some part of him that just couldn’t refuse her, he realized with great shock and not just a little bit of trepidation. Already he was remaining in England with her, and now he was going to follow her into a make-believe forest of trees in the middle of London when they had more in Scotland than one could ever explore in a lifetime.

  “Please?” she said quietly, and he was sunk. Into the evergreens they went, first finding, of course, Mary and Billy. Mary’s cheeks were quite flushed, but Billy’s arm was around her, and it seemed she was enjoying herself.

  “Isn’t this silly fun?” she asked, to which Jane nodded, although Duncan caught a look of concern on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, and Jane looked up at him, meeting his eye.

  “It’s Mary,” she said softly so that no one else could hear. “I’m worried that she might be overexerting herself.”

  “Then tell her so.”

  “I don’t want to ruin her fun. Look how happy she seems.”

  My Jane seems to be quite the people-pleaser.

  He stopped. My Jane? Where had that come from? He shook the thought from his head.

  “What could happen if she overexerts herself?” he asked.

  Jane sighed. “She has spells of nausea so great that she can’t keep anything down, including water. It’s dangerous for both her and the baby to be without sustenance.”

  “Well, then,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t think there is much to question, is there? She asked you here to look after her. That’s your responsibility now, even if it is somewhat unpleasant.”

  “You’re right,” she said with a determined nod as she straightened her shoulders. “Thank you, Duncan.”

  She released his arm and he felt the loss more than he would like to admit, but before she could approach Mary, Billy called out that they had found “the one,” and the entire group let out a cheer of celebration while Jane released an audible sigh of relief.

  Duncan stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her elbow.

  “I’ll help look out for her on the trek home,” he said. “Not to worry.”

  The grateful smile she sent his way went right to his heart, and he wondered at these strange feelings this London visit was bringing his way.

  For they were not typical of Duncan McDougall.

  Not typical at all.

  Chapter 7

  The Miller family overlooked Duncan’s obvious reluctance to participate in the festivities in favor of his strength when it came time to return with the Christmas tree. He tried to resist and grumble out a denial to their request that he carry it home, but then Jane had looked up at him with that trusting smile of hers and the next thing he knew he had hefted it up on his shoulders and they were back on the road to the Millers’ townhouse.

  Somehow along the way, he completely lost track of Jane, and soon enough the tree was bobbing precariously low over his shoulders and he had to keep his gaze straight ahead or else risk a face full of pine needles.

  He knew without turning around to look that Billy’s brother, who had been holding up the back end of the tree, was now conspicuously absent.

  “Through the front door?” he asked as they approached the house, which, if he hadn’t known better, seemed to open the door itself and welcome them within, telling them that they belonged there with their newly acquired greenery.

  “In we go!” he heard Billy’s voice call gaily, and by some miracle the tree fit through the door. Duncan was directed to place it within a small metal tub that had been prepared in the middle of the drawing room, around which he and Billy placed rocks to keep it standing upright. By the time he was done, despite the chilly winter air that had followed them in, he had to wipe a drop of sweat from his brow. He noticed the cat step into the room, who eyed the tree with some trepidation. Everyone else, however, seemed quite thrilled by it.

  “Well done!” Billy said, clapping a hand on his shoulder, to which Duncan turned and looked at with some disbelief. Billy seemed oblivious to Duncan’s hostility, although it was proving more and more difficult to completely dislike the man who had stolen Mary’s affections — not that they had ever been Duncan’s to begin with.

  Instead, Duncan took a step back and followed Billy’s gaze toward the evergreen in front of them. The drawing room, which had already been rather cheerful and bright, was now filled with the fresh scent of pine, and the tree looked quite at home where it now stood next to the fireplace, inside which the embers were already coming back to life after one of the multitudes of family members had obviously stoked them.

  “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 i
ntimate 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 ridiculous 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 you 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 vis-ing the tenants of his family’s land. 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.