“Just say what is on your heart,” she said softly, to which he grimaced.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Jane,” he said, his words harsher than he had intended. “To me, women have always been… women. I’ve never had any particular feelings for them, other than knowing when I’m attracted to some of them and not attracted to others.”
“Well, you never noticed me,” she said with a frown. “In fact, you forgot me.”
“I did,” he admitted, grinding his teeth. “Jane, I’ve never taken any particular time to get to know any woman well enough to determine if I might like her beyond what I could see.”
“What about Mary?”
He grimaced. “I suppose I did get to know Mary well enough, but all I found was that the two of us did not get on particularly well.”
Jane smiled at that.
“I can see why that might be. You’re both rather… headstrong.”
He inclined his head in agreement.
“True. And you, Jane—”
“Allow people like you and Mary to do as you please?”
He shook his head.
“That wasn’t at all what I was going to say. In fact, I was going to say that you are the perfect balance. You’re a calming presence. Considerate when others might not be thinking what they need to. And somehow, with your patience, you’re able to keep Mary to her bed when necessary.”
Jane laughed lightly at that. “That is not an easy feat.”
“No, it is not,” Duncan said, stepping in toward her, closing any space that remained between them. He brought his index finger underneath her chin, tipping her head up toward him.
“I’m not proud of missing you before, Jane,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “But I see you now. And I’m glad for it.”
Then he sealed his words with one more kiss that left even him, the great Duncan McDougall, quaking in his boots.
Chapter 10
Jane couldn’t sleep. How could she possibly after all that had happened with Duncan that afternoon? She could admit to holding out some hope that he would kiss her again — after all, he seemed quite the virile man. But that he would share with her words that led her to believe that he just might be interested in more than a short liaison… now she just had to decide if that was what she wanted as well.
The only problem? She couldn’t get past the emotion he evoked within her, nor the physical desire his touch summoned forth.
It was maddening. Jane knew many young men and had been attracted and interested in them before. But none to the extent of Duncan McDougall.
She had awoken in a light sweat despite the cold winter night, and she swung her legs over the bed and padded over to the window. She pushed back the curtain to see that the London street below her was blanketed in a light dusting of snow, and she smiled at the sight. If it was going to be cold, it might as well be a beautiful white. She loved when the frost coated the trees, as though they had been dipped in sugar.
Jane had no idea what time it was, but from the complete absence of any movement outdoors, she assumed it must be the middle of the night, and yet, she was completely awake. How she was ever going to find slumber again was beyond her.
She resigned herself to the fact that she was likely going to be up for a few hours. She ran her hands over the mantel on top of the fireplace until she found the matchbox, and lit the candle next to her bed. Finding her book, she opened it to the last page she had read, but sighed when she realized she had but a chapter left. Making short work of it, she soon found herself off the bed once more, but this time she was headed downstairs in search of another book that would hopefully lull her to sleep.
Jane had just reached the bottom stair when she heard a soft thud from across the room, followed by a curse.
She knew that voice.
“Duncan?”
“Jane?” he hissed, followed by another curse, and she peered through the darkness to see what he was up to.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Looking for something,” he muttered back. “Never mind that. Why are you awake at this time of night?”
“I… couldn’t sleep,” she said, heat rushing into her cheeks when she thought of just why that was the case, but she wasn’t about to share that with him. “I came down to find a book.”
She crossed the room determinately to the bookshelf in the corner. Mary wasn’t much of a reader, but Billy must be.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he drawled. “Why ever not?”
“My mind was on other things,” she said, choosing a book at random from the shelf and beginning to flip through the pages.
“Like what?”
“Like… the book that I was previously reading.”
“If you can tell me what it was about at this very moment, then I will buy you every book you could ever wish for.”
Jane bit her lip as she closed her eyes, trying to remember what she had been reading not long at all before.
But she couldn’t. For all she could see was the vivid dream she had been having of Duncan—or, more specifically, of her and Duncan.
She cleared her throat as she attempted to come up with something.
“Well, there was a man.”
“Oh?” he said, sounding quite interested in what else she had to say, and she hastily added, “And a woman.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He chuckled lowly. “I think I would like to hear more about this.”
“Nothing too interesting,” she said, trying to control her breath and her voice. “He was searching for her, followed some clues, and, in the end, he found her.”
Her book hadn’t been anything at all like that, but she figured she had accomplished a fairly fine lie.
At Duncan’s snort, however, she knew she was wrong about that.
Jane tried to ignore the increased beating of her heart the closer she came to Duncan. It was as though the man’s very presence increased her pulse and caused all of the blood to pool and descend to the very place she wanted him.
Which was ridiculous. Jane had never been the kind of woman to give into such base desires. She was level-headed, calm, and rational.
Although she had also always been quite in tune with the emotions of others, and when it came to Duncan…
“Jane?”
She gasped when his whisper came from right behind her ear.
“For a big man, you sure move stealthily,” she said, waiting for her heart to resume its normal beat. But that was not going to happen. Not when his hands slowly, so lightly they tickled, spanned her waist, before he locked them around one another, his arms pulling her back against him.
She was still facing the shelf, but she had lost all capacity to read the titles before her. Duncan reached up and took the candle from her, placing it on a side table, which was likely for the best, as Jane seemed liable to drop it.
“Duncan,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”
“Holding you. Is that a crime?”
“I…” Oh, goodness, he was kissing her neck. How did the most feather-light of touches cause such a thrill? “I suppose not.”
“I didn’t think so,” he growled, his hands now skimming up and down her sides, and Jane groaned at the response they evoked.