Duncan’s Christmas: The Victorian Highlanders Prequel Read online

  “What are you doing?” she asked, tucking herself deeper into the covers now.

  “Looking for my plaid,” he repeated. “Have you seen it? It’s the McDougall red. Can’t miss it.”

  “Of course I know the McDougall plaid,” Jane said, while deep within her she wondered why this strange nighttime conversation with a man she hardly knew somehow seemed rather… comfortable. “Everyone knows it.”

  “Right,” he said, his voice close enough now that she could practically feel the deep rumble in her own chest. “So…”

  “I have seen it,” she said slightly despondently as she was already quite chilly, for the room’s grate was bare and none of them had provided her with any intention to light a fire. “I’m lying underneath it.”

  “You— oh,” he cursed. “I had forgotten. Keep it.”

  “No, you take it,” she said, burrowing deep within to steal as much warmth as she could muster before it was gone. “There’s another blanket below it, although it is somewhat thin…”

  “What do you take me for?” he said gruffly. “I’m not the sort of man who would leave a woman in the cold.”

  “Well…” Jane wasn’t sure if she should say it.

  “Well, what?”

  “You did take me from my sister’s comfortable home into a freezing cold evening and forced me to stay in an empty house in a fireless room.”

  Jane held her breath as she awaited his response, and was equal parts relieved and disappointed when she was met only with silence, until she saw his shadow turn and begin to retreat from the room.

  “What are you going to use for sleep?”

  She wasn’t sure what had made her ask him. It shouldn’t matter to her where he slept, or what he slept under. She was the victim here, and he had done nothing but cause her misery since the moment he had taken her.

  And yet… she could sense that while he was too proud of a man to ever admit his mistake, he regretted his actions — and not just because he had taken the wrong sister.

  He stopped in the doorway, his body taking up the entire frame.

  “On the floor.”

  “Without a blanket?”

  He turned his head to look back at her over his shoulder, and while she couldn’t see his face, she could hear the grin in his words.

  “I’m certainly not going to ask Niall to share.”

  Jane took a breath, her heart beating hard when she realized just what she was about to suggest. There was every reason in the world for why she should say nothing and allow this man to keep walking out that door as she went back to sleep to prepare for what was sure to be a long day tomorrow.

  But she didn’t have it within her to see another creature suffer — even if it was a big, hulking man who deserved to freeze throughout the night.

  “You can sleep in here.”

  He snorted. “Is this some kind of ploy to force me to return you tonight? For I most certainly will not be allowing you to sleep on the floor.”

  “No, I mean…” This was a bad idea. A terrible one. “You can sleep on the bed. With me.”

  That got his attention more than anything else had. He turned around completely in the doorway, and while his face was in shadow, she could sense how incredulous he was.

  “You’re asking me to sleep with you?” he said, his voice filled with such disbelief that Jane wanted to throw the blankets overtop of her head and hide.

  “You don’t need to sound so disgusted,” she said, allowing her vulnerability to show. She was well aware she was far from his first choice, but she would never have suspected to have been so thoroughly rebuked.

  “It’s not that,” he said, his words now holding a hint of seductiveness as he took a step closer. “I just wouldn’t have thought that a woman who was so worried of imbuing scandal would actually invite a man she hardly knew to her bed.”

  “I certainly do not mean that!” she gasped out, realizing now just how her suggestion had sounded. “I meant that, perhaps, you could sleep beside me — but on top of the bottom blanket and just under your plaid. To sleep. And only to sleep,” she emphasized, closing her eyes as she lay back down, wishing she could take back the last two minutes of her life.

  “Ah, I see,” he said, and Jane wondered for a moment if there was a hint of disappointment in his words. Surely not. The man cared nothing about her, and had, in fact, been so enamoured with her sister that he had travelled all this way to London from the middle of Scotland to retrieve her. While his methods were somewhat suspect, Jane begrudgingly had to admit that there was a touch of romance to it. She only wished someone might one day do such a thing for her.

  “Well.” He heaved a sigh. “I suppose that is agreeable.”

  While Jane was well aware, of course, that this had been entirely her idea, the moment he sat down on the edge of the bed that was, quite fortunately, rather large, the entire mattress heaved over to his great weight and she blinked a few times as her heart began to beat ever faster at the thought of a man like Duncan sleeping so near.

  He rustled around as he found his way between the two blankets, and while there was still a thin barrier between them, Jane had not been lying when she had said the one blanket was thin. There was, however, one advantage to this arrangement, and that was the heat which practically radiated off him and was like a fire itself. She couldn’t help but shift slightly closer to him, so that only a couple of inches — plus the thin blanket — separated them.

  Soon she was warmed all over, although it didn’t take long to discover that it was not only his heat that was causing the hot tingles to shoot through her. It was his nearness, she told herself, and that she had never had a man in her bed before. That was all. It was the suggestion of what could happen, and not that she actually wanted anything to.

  For this was Duncan McDougall. The last man on earth she should want anything to do with. She should be running away from him as fast as she could, not cuddling next to his side.

  But as much as she told herself that, she couldn’t help the slight smile that touched her lips as she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 4

  “I am only staying long enough to convince you to come home.”

  “I am not coming home.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Duncan followed Jane up the steps, pounding sharply on the door before she could open it.

  “I do live here for the time being, you know,” she said, tilting her head to look up at him. He was so tall that it was rather difficult to do so. “I can let myself in. Besides, there is no one else to greet us besides my sister and her husband. Unlike at Galbury Castle, there is only one maid who will not arrive until later in the day.”

  “Galbury is not overrun with servants,” he defended himself. “We do most everything on our own now.”

  “Even so,” she said quite primly, “I have never known such luxuries.”

  “Your father is a physician,” he said, annoyed that she would suggest he think so highly of himself when she didn’t even know him. “Surely you have some assistance.”

  “We have one maid,” she said, but then she shivered and Duncan was reminded of the chill. He was aware that he didn’t feel it as harshly as some others. Jane, slim as she was, seemed to turn into an icicle the moment she stepped out of doors.

  He was now too aware of her body temperature.

  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 passed him the key and he placed it in the lock before opening the door and motioning for her to enter before him. She slipped past 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. 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 Mary had preferred stared one 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 rather 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.”
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  “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.