The world spun, silence taking the place of laughter, shouting, the crackle of the fire, the dying peal of the bells.
Spencer Ingram’s heat washed over Jane, dissolving anything stiff, until she flowed against him, her lips seeking his.
The kiss was tender, a brief moment of longing, of desire simmering below the surface. Jane wanted that moment to stretch forever, through Hogmanay night to welcoming dawn, and for the rest of her life.
Revelers bumped them, and Spencer broke the kiss. Jane hung in his arms, he holding her steady against the crush.
She saw no remorse in his eyes, no shame that he’d kissed another man’s intended. Jane felt no remorse either. She was a free woman, not officially betrothed, not yet belonging to John, and she knew this with all her being.
Spencer set her on her feet and gently released her. They continued to study each other, no words between them, only acknowledgment that they had kissed, and that it had meant something.
Thomas came toward them. “We should go back, Janie,” he said with regret. “Auntie will be looking for us.”
He seemed to have noticed nothing, not the kiss, not the way Jane and Spencer regarded each other in charged silence.
The moment broke. Jane turned swiftly to Thomas and held out her hand. “Yes, indeed. It is high time we went home.”
“A bone to pick.” Spencer closed the door of the large room where Barnett amused himself alone at a billiards table in midmorning sunlight. His eyes were red-rimmed from last night’s revelry, but he greeted Spencer with a cheerful nod.
“Only if you procure a cue and join me.”
Spencer chose a stout but slender stick from the cabinet and moved to the table as Barnett positioned a red ball on its surface and rolled a white toward Spencer.
Spencer closed his hand over the ball and spun it toward the other end of the table at the same time Barnett did his. Both balls bounced off the cushions and rolled back toward them, Spencer’s coming to rest closer to its starting point than Barnett’s. Therefore, Spencer’s choice as to who went first.
He spread his hands and took a step back. “By all means.”
Spencer was not being kind—the second player often had the advantage.
He remained politely silent as Barnett began taking his shots. He was a good player, his white ball kissing the red before the white dropped into a pocket, often clacking against Spencer’s white ball as well. Spencer obligingly fished out balls each time so Barnett could continue racking up points.
Only when Barnett fouled out by his white ball missing the red by a hair and coming to rest in the middle of the table did Spencer speak.
“I must tell you, Barnett, that I find your treatment of Lady Jane appalling.”
Barnett blinked and straightened from grimacing at his now-motionless ball. “I beg your pardon? I wasn’t aware I’d been appalling to the dear gel.”
“You’ve barely spoken to her at all. I thought this was the lady you wanted to marry.”
Barnett nodded. “Suppose I do.”
“You suppose? She is a beautiful woman, full of fire, with the finest eyes I’ve ever seen, and you suppose you wish to marry her?”
“Well, it’s never been settled one way or another. We are of an age, grew up together. Really we are the only two eligible people for miles. We all used to play together—Jane, her brother, her cousins, me.” Barnett laughed. “I remember once when we dared her to climb the face of Blackbird Hill, a steep, rough rock, and she did it. And once—”
Spencer cut him off with a sweep of his hand. “A spirited girl, yes. And now a spirited woman fading while she waits for you to say a word. She’s halting her life because everyone expects you to propose. It’s cruel to her to hesitate. Criminal even.”
“Jove, you are in a state.” Barnett idly took up chalk and rubbed it on the tip of his cue. He leaned to take a shot, remembered he’d lost his turn, and rose again. “What do you wish me to do? Propose to her, today?” He looked as though this were the last thing on earth he’d wish to do.
“No, I believe you should let her go. If you don’t wish to marry her, tell her so. End her uncertainty.”
“Hang on. Are you saying Jane is pining for me?” Barnett grinned. “How delicious.”
Spencer slammed his cue to the table. “I am saying you’ve trapped her. She feels obligated to you because of family expectations, while you go your merry way. Your flirtations at camp border on courtship, and I assumed your intended was a dull wallflower you were avoiding. Now that I’ve met her … You’re an idiot, Barnett.”
“Now, look here, Ingram. Captain.”
“You outrank me in the field, sir. In civilian life, no. Lady Jane is a fine young woman who does not need to be tied to you. Release her, let her find a suitor in London this Season, let her make her own choice.”
Barnett’s mouth hung open during Spence’s speech, and now he closed it with a snap. “Her own choice—do you mean someone like you?”
Spencer scowled at him. “First of all, your tone is insulting. Second, when I say her own choice, I mean it. Cease forcing her to wait for you to come home, to speak. Let her begin her life.”
Barnett laid down his cue with exaggerated care. “Very well. I suppose you pulling me away from that Frenchie’s bayonet gives you some leave to speak to me so. Happen I might propose to her this very day. Will that gain your approval?”
Not at all. Spencer had hoped to make Barnett realize he didn’t care for Lady Jane, never had, not as anything more than a childhood friend.
The man who proposed to Jane should be wildly in love with her, ready to do anything to make her life perfect and happy. She should have no less.
When Spencer had kissed her—
The frivolous, New Year’s kiss had instantly changed to one of intense desire. Need had struck Spencer so hard he’d barely been able to remain standing. He’d wanted to hold on to Jane and run with her to Scotland, to jump the broomstick with her before anyone could stop them.
She never would. Spencer already understood that Jane had a deep sense of obligation, which she’d thrown off to dance in the firelight last night, like the wild thing she truly was. But today, she’d be back to responsibility. He hadn’t seen her this morning, not at breakfast, which he’d rushed to anxiously, nor moving about the house, and he feared she’d decided to remain in her rooms and avoid him.
Spencer did not know what he’d say to her when she appeared. But he refused to put the kiss behind him, to pretend it never happened.
He didn’t want Jane to pretend it hadn’t happened either. He’d seen in her eyes the yearnings he felt—for love, for life, for something beyond what each of them had.
Spencer faced Barnett squarely. “Do not propose to her,” he said. “Do not force her to plunge further into obligation. She won’t refuse you. She’ll feel it her duty to accept.”
“It is her duty, damn you. What am I to do? Leave her for you?” When Spencer didn’t answer, Barnett’s eyes widened. “I see. Devil take you, man. I brought you home as a friend.”
Spencer held him with a gaze that made Barnett’s color rise. “That is true. Are you going to call me out?”