Many women would speak of such subject matters with a great deal of blushing and much less forthrightness, but Jane Campbell did not seem to be overly affected. Interesting.
Duncan did feel quite the dobber for not having remembered meeting her. She was pretty, but in a plain sort of way upon first glance. Had she not said anything to him at the time of their acquaintance, he could see why he might not have paid her any notice — especially if Mary was in the room, for she seemed to overwhelm every conversation. Had Jane spoken to him in the same manner she was now, however, then he knew he would never forget her.
And now that he had the opportunity to converse with her further… once he had stopped pacing and was actually focusing on what she was saying, it seemed that it just might make a difference in his next actions. He noticed the small scattering of freckles over her pert nose, eyes that pierced right through him, and lips that seemed to continually be nearly quirking into a smile.
He cleared his throat. “I see,” he said, responding to her reveal. “I do not believe your father was aware of this.”
“Likely not,” Jane said. “And I would implore you not to say anything until after the baby is born. It was one of the reasons Mary left — so that she and Billy could be married and bear their child before anyone was aware of all that had happened.”
Duncan scratched his temple, unsure of just what he was supposed to do now. He didn’t look at Niall or Keith, for he knew the two of them were finding this entire situation far more humorous than it actually was. He honestly did not much care over the loss of Mary’s affections, for he knew he had never been the recipient of them in the first place. It was his pride that was hurt, although he would never reveal that to anyone else, most especially Jane Campbell.
“Mary is… happy here, then, with her preacher?”
“Very much so,” Jane said, bobbing her head, a small smile quirking her lips. “In fact, they were married just last week.”
“They were what?”
“Married,” she said, drawing out the word as though he might not understand it. “They wanted to do so before Christmas.”
“Christmas,” he said, practically spitting out the word. “How very… English.”
“Hogmanay, then, for Mary,” she supplied helpfully. “They are going to share their traditions, celebrating both Christmas and the New Year in equal measure.”
Duncan scoffed, muttering an oath under his breath regarding his thoughts on the English.
“We were supposed to be married just after Hogmanay,” he said, placing his hands on his hips.
“Mary does feel quite sorry for what she did to you,” Jane said quietly, and Duncan wondered if she was telling the truth or simply attempting to placate him. “Perhaps, when you return me to her home, she might have the opportunity to tell you so.”
Duncan knew he was unable to keep his dismay from his face.
“She will do no such thing,” he ground out, “for you are not going to be returning to her home. I may not be able to force Mary back to Scotland and to your father, but I certainly will not leave you here! One daughter is better than nothing.”
Jane winced at his words, but she was already shaking her head before he finished.
“Unfortunately, I must stay,” she said in that calm, practical manner of hers. “You see, Mary’s pregnancy has proven quite difficult. She wrote to me asking that I would come be with her and make sure that all is well. I am a healer of a sort, you see. So, I will not leave until the baby comes.”
“I cannot return without you,” he said, forcing himself to release the fists he had formed at his sides, though he couldn’t help the anger in his tone.
“Well then,” Keith supplied, his hulky frame rising from where he had been sitting on the floor, watching the both of them through this entire exchange, “I suppose you will just have to stay here, Duncan.”
“Absolutely not,” Duncan and Jane said in unison.
It was the first thing they had agreed upon.
But Duncan was not leaving without Jane, and she had no intention of going with him.
Neither was giving in.
Chapter 3
They had remained at a deadlock for over an hour now. When Duncan had dug in his heels and told her that in no one’s wildest imaginings would he be leaving her in London, Jane had decided there was only one thing to do — she would have to return to her sister’s home with or without his help.
He had, however, decided that was not going to be an option, as he stood in front of the door and barred her exit with his massive body.
“You cannot take me prisoner,” she protested.
“You are not a prisoner,” he had returned, “but you must remain here until I decide what I am going to do with you. I cannot allow you back into the winter night alone. It is nearing midnight, for one thing, and it is freezing out there. How would I explain to your father that I had allowed you to catch your death in the cold?”
“Well, that would be both your own fault and his, as you were the one who undertook this nonsensical and quite unnecessary rescue.”
Duncan took a deep breath as he stared at her, his eyes running from her toes all the way up to meet her eyes once more. His were an icy blue that caused all kinds of quivers to race through her — ones that she didn’t want to put a name to, nor did she care to spend any time further considering.
“Very well,” he said. “If you are going to be so ornery, then I will take you back in the morning.”
Jane stared at him in horror.
“Me, ornery? Duncan,” she tried to reason with him, “you must take me back now! I cannot stay here all night.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have much of a choice. Besides, what does it matter?”
“For me to stay here with the three of you? Do you know what sort of scandal that would be?”
He snorted. “We’re Highlanders. We don’t care a fig for what the self-righteous English think of us, do we?”
“My father would never allow it, if he knew what you were about.”
“I think he would. ’Tis better than running off with an Englishman, is it not?”
Jane turned around, rubbing her temples with her two index and middle fingers. She was tired, but she needed to find her way back. She thought she had masked her exhaustion, but it seemed Duncan was more observant than she had supposed.
“You can sleep in my bed.”
His voice rumbled from across the room, sending little shocks through her chest.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, you can sleep in my bed.” He waved toward a back room. “The rest of us will make our bedrolls out here.”
“This is outrageous,” she said, at a loss, wishing she was more like Mary, who always got her way, no matter the circumstance. “I don’t have any of my belongings. My sister must be desperate with worry—”
“Was she sleeping when you left?” Duncan interjected.
“Well, yes, I suppose.”
“Then there is nothing to worry about. You’ll be back before first light.”
Jane realized that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with this pigheaded man and turned in disgust to the small back bedroom, finding that there wasn’t much within but the bed itself. She was surprised to see that the bed was quite carefully made, and when she pulled back the covers and crawled in, she was instantly enveloped by the musky, heady scent that was all Duncan McDougall. He must have slept here the previous night. She both loved and hated the fact that when she pulled the blankets around her it was almost as though he was there with her, holding her close in an embrace.