Page 41 of Snowbound Regency Christmas
One glance at Duncan was enough to force out any lingering gloom. He looked more like a fish squirming on a hook than an angel and she couldn’t hold back a laugh, louder and more real than any before.
‘No! What on earth are youdoing?’
His grin could have lit up the darkest room. ‘My best, which is obviously not good enough.’
He fell still, his arms and legs still outstretched. Somehow, in their inelegant writhing, they had shuffled even closer together and another laugh died in her throat as she felt his fingertips come to rest,justtouching hers.
She lay quietly, trying to catch her breath. She didn’t want to move. In that moment, everything was perfect: the azure sky overhead and the gleaming beauty of the snow, Duncan lying beside her as if none of the past three years had happened. Anyone stumbling across them now would have thought they were a couple in love and the desire to be so again came so hard and piercing she almost gasped aloud.
Duncan’s voice broke the spell. ‘Oh.’
‘What?’
She turned her head to look at him, feeling how the snow had dampened her uncovered hair. He was staring straight upwards, into the overhanging branches of the tree, and she followed his suddenly sharpened gaze.
‘Up there. I’ve just noticed.’
Her heart turned over. ‘Is that…mistletoe?’
‘Yes. I think it is.’
His voice was carefully controlled, but even so something in it made her shiver. It was as though he was pretending to be calm rather than truly feeling so, and she imagined her face must have given a similar impression as she met his eye.
He didn’t speak further. He looked at her and she looked back at him, neither one able to move.
A rising sea of tension welled up around them. Jane felt it in every nerve, every vein filling with anticipation instead of blood as she watched Duncan’s gaze flit from her eyes down to her mouth and stay there, a strange kind of hunger growing inside her that she didn’t know how to name. She’d felt it before, however; it was the same ungovernable desire that had struck every time they’d been alone together in the months before she’d had to turn him away, and just because three years had passed since she’d last felt it didn’t mean she’d forgotten what came next.
When their lips met it feltright.
The air was freezing and a chill had seeped into her wet clothes but Jane felt as though she was on fire as Duncan pulled her into his arms right there in the snow. She went willingly, her mouth seeking his with impatience she wasn’t too proud to fight, although, even if she’d tried, she knew she would have failed. Every regret, every pent-up fear and burden of grief was lifted as he kissed her, one hand around her waist and the other sliding up to cup her ruined cheek.
She stiffened when he touched her scars, suddenly afraid, but he was not to be deterred. He didn’t falter. With gentleness that reassured her more than any words, he traced his thumb over the raised welts, never stopping the soft but certain questing of his lips as he stole her every breath.
Her cloak was tangled around her. Snow had found its way into one of her boots but she didn’t care, her entire consciousness wrapped up in the sensation of being in Duncan’s arms. It was where she belonged, the last dregs of her rationality told her, and by the way his fingers tunnelled into her half-tumbled hair she thought he must have thought the same. It was impossible for her to feel the shame her scars usually inspired in her when he stroked them so reverently and she abandoned herself to his caress, her hands sliding beneath his coat and everything in her willing him not to stop…
It came as a crashing disappointment when he drew back.
He was breathing hard and when she forced her eyes open she saw his were glazed. He looked very much like a man who would have preferred to continue rather than restrain himself and she shuddered at the frank craving in his face. For a snatched moment it seemed he was balanced on a precipice, unsure which way he would fall, but then he gave a shaky sigh and released her from his hold.
He sat up and Jane tried to follow suit, although her limbs didn’t want to cooperate. Her mind lagged three steps behind, not recovered from its kiss-induced stupor, and if Duncan hadn’t offered her his hand as he got to his feet she might never have been able to stand.
She found she couldn’t speak. Her legs shook alarmingly and her head felt full of gauze, any hope of forming a sensible thought not yet returned.
How did that happen? What did it mean?
Duncan didn’t seem to know the answer to either question. He was uncharacteristically quiet himself as he picked up her bonnet, brushing the snow from her veil before handing it to her with a self-conscious nod.
‘We ought to go back. The girls will be wondering where we are.’
Still half stunned, Jane peered up at him. Was that all he was going to say? He had just kissed her, shown her that the scars she was so embarrassed about apparently meant nothing to him, and now he wanted to return to the house without any further discussion?
‘I… Yes.’ She managed a dip of her head that could have been taken as agreement. ‘You’re right. I wouldn’t want your mother to worry either.’
Duncan retrieved his hat from the tree. It seemed a good idea to cover her face, certain he would be able to see her confusion, and so she replaced her bonnet likewise, pulling the veil firmly down to her chin. Her holly leaves still lay in a pile and she bent down to collect them, noticing as she straightened up again that the snow around them was in a state of scandalous disarray.
She felt Duncan close behind her. His presence affected her like a physical touch and she wanted nothing more than to lean back against him, rest her head on his chest and let him fold her into his arms. Confusion reigned, however. Whether that was something he wouldwantto do she didn’t know, and to break the silence that now threatened to fall between them she gestured weakly at the ground.
‘I’m not sure we were successful. They don’t look much like angels to me.’
