“Ah, so you are thinking of a relationship!” Mary said with a grin, and Jane could only roll her eyes.
“You’re impossible.”
“But you love me anyway.”
“Of course I do.” Jane sighed. “I suppose I best go talk to him.”
“I suppose you should,” Mary said. “I’ll be just fine. Will you please send Billy in to see me?”
“Very well,” Jane said, reluctantly standing and dragging her feet to the door. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck!” Mary said gleefully, and if nothing else, Jane was pleased that Mary was feeling better — or, at the very least, distracted.
Her heart started beating nervously. She had never been one to confront things head on. She supposed it was time to start.
“Duncan?”
He had been standing in front of the window overlooking the street before the house. The Christmas tree was to his right, while the white frame of the window bracketed his muscular build.
“Jane,” he said, turning around, his face unreadable as he stared at her. “I was just thinking about you.”
“You were?” Jane said, her pulse quickening, but then she shook her head, not wanting to seem too eager. “I mean, what were you thinking about?”
“That you were avoiding me.”
Jane dropped her gaze for a moment before summoning up the courage to meet his once more.
“I was.”
“But no longer, I hope?”
“No,” she said, then took a breath. “Duncan, I—”
“Shall we go for a walk?”
“A walk?” she repeated, sounding like a parrot but surprised at his words.
“Aye,” he said. “This house is… small. And I’m not used to being confined indoors for so long a time. Where shall we go?”
“I believe there is a green not far,” she said. “It isn’t much, but there are, at the very least, some trees that line the path and might make you feel that you are outdoors.”
“Good enough,” he said reluctantly. “Fetch your cloak.”
She nodded and hurried upstairs, returning momentarily.
When they walked through the front door, he crooked his elbow toward her. “I shall escort you like the proper gentleman.”
Jane couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you were not in favor of English customs.”
“I’m not,” he said, and then a corner of his lip curled up with surprising cheekiness. “However, if it means the opportunity to hold a lass close, well then,” he shrugged, “perhaps the English are onto something.”
The air was crisp as they walked down the street, chimneys spewing their smoke into the air high above the little rows of houses.
“How is Mary?” Duncan asked.
“As bold as ever today, so she must be feeling better,” Jane said with a smile.
“How did you become interested in the work you do?” Duncan asked, and Jane kept her gaze ahead as she explained.
“My father is a physician, as you know, and he was always coming home with one story or another,” Jane said. “While the medical issues always horrified Mary, I was fascinated by how humans could have such control over the body. It’s a balance, really, and interesting that we could have so much effect on it. While my father would never teach a daughter how to become a physician, he often worked with the local midwife.”
“Morwyn.”
“Yes,” Jane nodded. “She let me accompany her on a few visits to pregnant women and to births, and I was quite intrigued. I began to gather my own assortment of expertise. I am not particularly skilled at any one thing, but I have an idea of how to help others should the need arise.”
“That is useful knowledge,” he said. “I shall be sure to call on you if I am ever in need.”
“Be sure you do,” Jane said quietly, thinking of another time, another place when they would be back in the Highlands. Would Duncan ever look at her again, or even think of her at all after they returned?
They had walked down the entirety of the lane now, and were approaching the green space she had seen earlier but had not yet explored. A pebbled path led through the trees, and Duncan inhaled deeply as they reached it.
“It’s not quite the same,” he said, catching her eye, “but it’s something.”
“It’s something,” she agreed, and he tugged her arm in tighter against him. Soon enough they were surrounded by evergreens and a few beech trees which had likely been leafless for a month or so now. “Look,” she said as she tilted her head back, “it’s beginning to snow.”
It was as though the sky had opened and God was dropping the thick white flakes right down upon them. Jane couldn’t help herself. She stuck out her tongue, catching one in midair. She laughed at Duncan’s surprised expression.
“Try it,” she said, nearly breathless, and he hesitated for a moment, but then dipped his head back and did the same.
He caught one as Jane stepped back and spun around, the flakes coming faster and thicker around her.
“It’s beautiful,” she said as the trees around them were now just visible in the falling snow.
“Very,” Duncan said, the word sounding reverent, and the way he rolled his Rs caused a tremble deep within Jane. She took a breath as they both sobered, seemingly aware that they could no longer ignore what was growing between them.
“Duncan—”
Before she could finish the sentence, however, she was in his arms, being kissed senseless once again. All she could do was fist a hand in his hair and hold on tight.
Duncan was well aware that Jane wanted to talk to him. But he had never been much for words — he was far more a man of action. He had no idea what he wanted to say to her. All he knew was that he didn’t want to let go of this Jane Campbell, and there was only one way to explain it.
The trouble was, he wanted her with every fibre of his being, and he was not entirely sure how she was going to react to such a revelation.
His hands were everywhere as he sought to be closer to her — under her cloak, around her waist, up to cup her ribs before stroking her back. She didn’t seem to have any issue with it, for she was holding onto him with a strength he would never have thought was within her.
“Jane,” he groaned as he ached for her, throbbing with need for attention — attention only Jane could provide.
She stepped back from him, looking up and searching his eyes as though they would hold some answer she was seeking, and he knew she must be feeling as he did.
“Duncan,” she said, her breaths coming quickly, “I did want to talk.”
“I’m not much of a talker.”
“I realize that.”
“My family… well, we’re not particularly close. I was my parents’ only child. My mother could never carry another baby to birth, and my father blamed her for it. You’ve met him. He is cold, harsh, a man of discipline. The two of them avoided one another until my mother passed.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “She was so weak most of her life that she wasn’t able to do much to raise me anyway. And my father, well, he has taught me what I need to know, but that is about it. I’m not entirely sure how to say what I feel.”