Duncan’s Christmas: The Victorian Highlanders Prequel

by St. Clair, Ellie

  He set her down before crossing the room and finding a small package under the Christmas tree, wrapped in brown paper.

  “Here,” he said, placing it in her hands. It read a simple “Jane,” printed on the paper. “You were rather busy earlier, so I never had the chance to give this to you.”

  She looked up at him with a small smile of surprise before undoing the twine and ripping off the paper.

  “Oh, Duncan,” she said when the wood beneath was revealed, “this is perfect.”

  She smoothed her hands over the Celtic love knot he had worked on every evening. He had never been one to sit still for overly long periods of time but in this, he had been able to concentrate, for he had been thinking of her. When he finally realized how much he loved her, he had added the middle heart that completed it.

  “It’s a small symbol of what I feel for you,” he said with the smallest of smiles. “I love you, Jane.”

  “And I love you,” she said.

  And as one of the babies upstairs began to cry, they sealed their vow with a kiss.

  Epilogue

  Eleven months later

  Jane sat in the warm glow of the fire, enjoying the heat on her face. Galbury’s great hall could become somewhat chilly when the wind fiercely blew through December, but she and Duncan had made this home in more ways than they could have imagined.

  She smiled up at the wooden carving they had hung over the fireplace as she waited for Duncan to return home. She had no idea where he had gone off to, but she was trembling with anticipation for what she had to share.

  The huge oak doors swung open, and the lightest wisp of snow blew in as Duncan’s grunts emanated through the huge room.

  “Duncan?” she called, rising from the chair to greet him. “What in the—”

  “I found one worthy of Galbury — and of you,” he said, and Jane could only stare with wide eyes as she searched for him within the huge branches of the tree. “Here it is, Jane.”

  “You found a Christmas tree,” she said in astonishment.

  “I did,” he said with a nod as he placed it upright, appearing beside it, his face red with cold but his eyes bright and his smile wide. “What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, twirling around it. “But Duncan, we don’t really celebrate Christmas here.”

  “We do now,” he said with a wink, and he leaned the tree up against the wall before disappearing into the kitchens beyond, returning with a small tub. “See? I have everything prepared.”

  He busily set the tree up in the corner, and Jane watched with astonishment at the thoroughness with which he had planned this. “I would have helped you,” she said, but he shook his head.

  “This was a surprise,” he said. “I saw your father on the way. He was appropriately shocked.”

  “Did you?”

  Jane’s parents had been relieved when Duncan had returned with her following their Christmas in London last year, and, as it happened, they were quite pleased with the arrangement for Duncan to marry Jane instead of Mary.

  Jane wasn’t sure they would ever overcome the thought of Mary living in London, but they seemed to have finally accepted her choice in a husband.

  Duncan interrupted her thoughts when he produced what Jane immediately recognized a Christmas paper ball. “For you.”

  “An ornament?” It was a heart with their initials, and Jane smiled at it lovingly before placing it on the tree. “Our first,” she said before turning to look at him, placing her hands on his chest.

  She had her own surprise for him. She returned to the couch and found what she was looking for before passing it over to him.

  “For you.”

  “A Christmas cracker?”

  “You didn’t get one last year,” she said with a small smile. “I hope this makes up for it.”

  He took it from her, opening it up to find a list of names on the piece of paper within.

  “Callum, Peggy, Finlay… what is this?” he asked, looking up at her with confusion.

  “A list of names I like,” she said, unable to help the smile that began to spread over her face. “For our baby.”

  “For our…” His eyes grew wide as the paper fluttered out of his fingers and onto the floor. “B-baby?”

  She nodded with a smile. “Yes,” she said, her words coming out in a whisper that was half sob and half laugh.

  “Oh, Jane,” he said reverently, reaching out and drawing her close, “perhaps there is something magical about Christmas after all.”

  “There most assuredly is,” she said. “Let’s never forget Christmas ever again.”

  “How could I?” he responded. “It’s given me everything I never thought possible yet is more precious than anything else. Family.” He paused, giving himself a moment to keep from choking up. “You’re the best present I ever could have asked for, Jane. This year, and every year to come.”

  THE END

  * * *

  Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed Duncan and Jane’s Christmas story.

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  Callum’s Vow

  Preview Callum and Victoria’s story, book 1 of The Victorian Highlanders…

  A sneak peek…

  June 21, 1882 ~ London, England

  One foot dangled inside the windowsill in the relative safety of the bedroom. The other desperately searched for a foothold on the lattice that climbed the house as Victoria Brighton precariously straddled the ledge.

  Cursing as her skirts snagged on a nail, Victoria looked below her. It was a pretty view, the ivy-strewn lattice affixed to the red brick house. But she would be much happier looking at it from over her shoulder.

  “Blast,” she muttered, her voice low to avoid being heard by anyone who happened to be outside.

  Her foot found the lattice, and she began inching her way down from her second story window. It was fortunate she didn’t sleep on the third floor.

  Her foot slipped a few times on the tangle of vines covering the crisscrossed wood as she made the slow climb down. She almost lost her grip as her hand slipped through the lattice. Thankfully, her gloves protected her from some nasty scrapes as she scrabbled against the rough brick wall and regained her hold. Despite the late-spring chill clinging in the air, anxious perspiration dripped down her spine.

  What Victoria lacked in coordination, she made up for with determination. By the time she reached the ground her arms were beginning to ache from the weight of her very average-sized frame.

  As she reached down to retrieve the valise that she’d sent flying out the window minutes earlier, Victoria heard the din of merriment around the corner. Laughter floated through the air, as the voices of her wedding guests were full of gossip and excitement, lips loosened by too many glasses of punch and champagne.

  The wedding in question was one that Victoria was determined would never take place. It would not be a fairy tale of her choosing, but one that would mean a happy ending for her stepfather and the groom-to-be. She was seen as a bank account more than a bride, and she refused to spend the rest of her life married to a man who made her skin crawl in all varieties of unpleasant ways.

  She didn’t think any of the guests would be disappointed. Rather, this would provide fodder for their gossip for months. How a girl from a common family — though an heiress to a formidable fortune, mind you — could leave the Duke of Lansing practically at the altar! Never mind that he had nothing to his name, had destroyed his estate with his greedy ways, and his wife had suspiciously died. He was a duke.r />
  Victoria refused to become his second wife, and she would certainly not be making the duke a widower twice over.

  She was, as always, running late. She didn’t know how it had happened, as she thought she had timed everything perfectly. Feigning a stomach illness, she had blamed the richness of the food and her nervousness for the day at hand. No one had questioned her, nor had they really cared. The sky was just beginning to darken, and she knew she had to get moving if she was going to make the last train to Liverpool.

  Victoria had to ensure her timing was just right. She had to keep perfectly to her schedule of reaching the train station, arriving in Liverpool, and making her way to the docks to board the Parisian. Her hope was that once the others — particularly her stepfather and the duke — realized she was gone in the morning, there wouldn’t be enough time to catch her before the ship launched. She had told her maid, Mary, not to wake her until late as she needed much rest before her wedding day. It pained Victoria that Mary, as sweet and gentle as she was, might be blamed, but Victoria consoled herself with the thought that she was also saving Mary from a life serving in the household of the duke. Victoria had left her with a note outlining how to explain her disappearance, including an escape plan for herself and information on where Victoria had arranged another placement for Mary as a lady’s maid at a home just a day’s ride away.

  Victoria crept around the back of the house to find the alley clear. Dark tendrils had slipped out of their pins and were tumbling down the side of her face after her foray out the window. She tried to shove the pins back in and re-settled her hat before heading to the street to find a hackney. The streets were fairly quiet at this hour, the streetlamps not yet lit, but guiding the way to the main road.

  Victoria could move at a fairly good pace in her simple gown, but she didn’t want to attract much attention. She was hoping she had luck on her side.

  A few turns later, she finally saw a gentleman disembarking from a Hansom cab up ahead, and she raced to catch it before it continued on. Any questions the driver had about a lone female out at this hour were forgotten when she pulled out her purse, and they were soon on their way to the train station, where Victoria would board for Liverpool.

  She had matched an unadorned hat to her plain dress and hoped that with her hair pinned and tucked up underneath it, she would look forgettable enough that no one would remember seeing her if questioned later on.

  While Victoria had been short-sighted in imagining how far her stepfather would go to achieve his own political goals, her aunt had not been. Her father’s sister, Sarah, had a better sense of a person upon first impression. Months before, soon after the death of Victoria’s mother, Aunt Sarah’s letters became urgent.

  Victoria recalled the last letter she had received, delivered to her by Marion, her lone friend and one of London’s librarians.

  My dearest Victoria,

  The letter had begun, like all of them did. Victoria eagerly skimmed the lines of the page for her aunt’s tales of adventure in the western wilds on the other side of the Atlantic.

  It gives me great pain that I am so far from you, at a time when you could use someone to watch over you. It will not be long now until you are able to claim your inheritance, and I am worried about the lengths your stepfather will take in order to secure the funds for himself.

  This month I have no stories for you, my dear. Instead, I simply repeat my plea. Leave England. Escape your stepfather. I will arrange everything for you, should you only say the word.

  Victoria had taken a breath, grateful that she arranged her correspondence this way, for her stepfather opened all letters that arrived at their own townhouse. Surely Sarah was being overly cautious? After all, in less than a year she would be able to claim her inheritance and her freedom.

  Or so she had believed, until the night she had overheard a conversation between her stepfather, Edward Travers, III, and the Duke of Lansing. She had been in her stepfather’s study, looking for a letter opener to reveal Aunt Sarah’s subsequent correspondence. Victoria didn’t enjoy spending time in the office. Its polished wood and brass accents were cold, and the lack of decoration on the dark walls left an austere feeling to the hollow room. The window overlooked the unkempt gardens, left unattended by her stepfather’s dwindling staff.

  After finally locating the opener in Edward’s massive desk, Victoria was in the middle of slicing through the seal when she heard his footsteps in the hall.

  A terrible liar even with preparation, Victoria had wanted to avoid any questions regarding her whereabouts in the office, and she certainly must hide the contents of the envelope. Without thinking, she followed through on her first instinct, diving behind the settee in the corner of the room, narrowly missing landing on the letter opener that flew from her hand. She snatched it up and tucked it under her skirts as she folded herself into the cramped corner.

  When Edward entered the office, he wasn’t alone, but accompanied by his newfound acquaintance, the Duke of Lansing — a strange friendship, to be sure. Victoria didn’t know why they had aligned themselves together so often as of late, but she had not been overly concerned, having no particular interest in her stepfather’s business.

  “Travers, this had best happen quickly.” The duke addressed Edward with disdain in his voice. The Travers family had quickly become rich through ownership of a popular London newspaper. His father, Edward Travers II, had been a strong advocate against the Scottish protests, and his paper was widely read throughout England. When his father passed and Edward the III took over, the paper had quickly descended into rubbish. Edward published stories that the bureaucracy would enjoy, not taking into account that the vast majority of its readers were common folk. The newspaper was dying a slow death. As readers fell, so did Edward’s fortunes. He tried to keep up appearances, but it was becoming difficult. The dust that currently tickled Victoria’s nose reminded her of the shortage of household staff.

  “Be patient, Lansing,” Edward responded in his gravelly voice. “We have to time it right. We can’t spook the girl. She’s of age, so she can leave any time she chooses. But she has no particular skill set or training to support herself, nor has she any funds until she turns twenty-one. Of course, if she marries, everything changes.”

  “Nor has she any funds.” The words left her chilled. This was about her and her fortune. Victoria was eagerly awaiting her twenty-first birthday. If only she could access the fortune that had been left to her, she would have been out of this house months ago. She was now counting down the days until that time.

  “That time is coming soon.” The duke’s flat voice sent shivers up and down Victoria’s spine. If the villain from one of her novels could have walked off the pages, it would be in the duke’s image, she could swear it. She and Marian had laughed about it. From the tone of this conversation, however, it was no laughing matter.

  “We must put things in motion,” he continued. “Shall we set a date of June twenty-first? We can begin inviting guests two weeks before. You’ll just have to keep her here until that time. Do you think you can handle a twenty-year-old girl?”

  “Of course I can handle her,” Edward snappily responded. “I’ll have the staff keep an eye on her and lock her door at night. I don’t know why the silly twit doesn’t realize she needs to be married. I’ve tried to broach the subject with her before, and she continues to adamantly refuse, so there will be no talking her around to it. The girl doesn’t have a lick of sense in her brain. If she did, she’d realize that a title would take her places. We are doing what’s best. Her mother would have agreed. In the meantime, I’ve had my lawyer draw up the documents stating the funds I will receive upon your marriage — half of the inheritance, as we agreed. I would also appreciate an introduction to society.”

  “Why Edward, your trust in my word is so flattering,” the duke responded, sarcasm dripping off every word. Victoria could just picture him looking down his pinched nose, which was accented by hollow cheekbone
s. “Very well. Let me take them to my solicitor, and we shall be on our way to mutual success.”

  With that, his footsteps clipped out of the room and the door snapped shut behind him.

  Edward Travers III spent another hour in his office. The time ticked by slowly for Victoria, who remained hidden but wide-eyed behind the sofa.

  She had been a fool. Too naive to realize that her aunt had been right all along, too trusting to believe that her stepfather would basically sell her off.

  Her mind worked furiously as she digested what she had heard and began making plans to escape before it was too late. June twenty-first was a month away. It didn’t give her much time, but she was determined that come that day, she would be far away from an altar.

  She had attempted escape from her stepfather’s home, but he had been vigilant, and there was never an opportune time, despite her best plans and intentions. He had ensured she was well accompanied on any outing, and her door had proven locked throughout the night. She had written Sarah, relieved that her aunt had been able to make plans for her.

  With a ticket sewn into one of her dresses, Victoria had finally found the chance to escape, with not a moment to spare.

  Her first step was complete, and there was no looking back now.

  * * *

  Callum’s Vow is now available on Amazon.

  Also by Ellie St. Clair

  The Victorian Highlanders

  Callum’s Vow

  Finlay’s Duty

  Adam’s Call

  Roderick’s Purpose

  Peggy’s Love

  For a full list of all of Ellie’s books, please see