Page 10 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

She fought to maintain her composure. “Are you suggesting I throw over Major Barnett and declare myself for you?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Spencer leaned close, and again, Jane thought he’d kiss her. Anything sensible spun out of her head as she anticipated the brush of his lips, the warmth of his touch. He came closer still, his gaze darting to her mouth, his chest rising sharply. Jane’s very breath hurt.

When he straightened, disappointment slapped her.

“Nothing would make me happier,” Spencer repeated. “But I’m not a blackguard. If you have no regard for me, if you cannot imagine yourself loving me, then I will not press you. I won’t press you at all. What I want, my dear lady, is your happiness. I know in my heart it does not lie for you with Major Barnett.”

Jane shook her head. “The world is convinced it does.”

“Then the world is a fool. I would be the happiest man alive if you chose me. But I won’t ask you to, won’t coerce you.” His dark brows came down. “I want you to be free, Jane. Free to choose. Go to London. Have your Season—laugh, dance,live. If you find a better man than I there, then I’ll… well, I’ll sink into despondency for a long while, but that despondency will have a bright note. I’ll know you are happy. Find that man, and I will dance at your wedding. I promise.”

Her breath came fast. “You amaze me, sir.”

“Why?” Again a smile, bright and hot. “I admire you. I hate to see you pressed into a box, your nature stifled, all because of an ass like Major Barnett.”

Jane attempted a frown. “Should I throw off my friends the moment they displease me? Is this freedom?” Her voice shook, because in her heart, his words made her sing.

“You know Barnett has been displeasing you for years,” Spencer said. “Else you’d have looked happier to see him.”

Truth again. Was this man an oracle?

“How dare you?” Jane tried to draw herself up, but her question lacked conviction. Spencer unnerved her, turned her inside out, made her want to laugh and cry. “This is none of your affair, sir.”

She ought to threaten to call her father, have Captain Ingram ejected from the house, even arrested for accosting her. Or she could simply slap him, as he’d told her she should have done last night.

Spencer’s gaze held her, and Jane could do nothing.

“It is my affair because I care about you,” he said. “ButIdo not matter. You do. Please, Jane, be happy.”

Blast him. Before he’d arrived, Jane’s life had been tranquil. At ease. Now confusion pounded at her, and shame.

Because she knew good and well she hadn’t been tranquil at all. She’d been impatient, angry. Stifled, as he said.

Spencer’s eyes held anguish, rage, and need. Jane knew somehow that Spencer Ingram would always speak truth to her, whether she liked it or not.

And she knew she wanted to kiss him again.

The house was far away, and high yew hedges edged the path on which they stood. No one was about, not even a gardener taking a turn around the empty beds. Most of the servants had been given a holiday.

Jane took the last step toward Spencer. As he regarded her in both trepidation and simmering need, Jane wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

His lips were parted, his breath heating hers an instant before he hauled her against him, his answering kiss hard, savage.

The world melted away. All Jane knew was Spencer’s solid, strong body, his hands holding her steady, his mouth on hers.

He pulled her closer, the tall length of him hard against her softness. His lips opened hers, mouth seeking, whiskers scratching her cheek. He filled up everything empty inside her, and Jane learned warmth, joy, longing.

We never let anything stand in the way of us,Grandfather always said about himself and his beloved Maggie.

That was long ago,Jane would reason.

Butthiswas now.

Jane abruptly broke the kiss. Spencer gazed at her, desire plain in his eyes. He traced her cheek, and her heart shattered.

Jane drew away from him, and ran. She snatched up the freedom he offered her and sprinted down the main path, her arms open, muff hanging from one hand, and let the cold air come.

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