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“Yes, it is. Safe.” Lady Jane sounded discontented.

“Janie longs for adventure,” Thomas confided. “Like me.”

“I, on the other hand, believe this a perfect night,” Spencer said, his spirits rising. “Companionship, conversation. Beauty.”

Thomas snorted with laughter, but Spencer saw Jane’s polite smile fade.

At that moment, village children ran to envelope them and drag them to the bonfire.

The footmen eagerly joined friends and family around the blazes. A stoneware jug made its rounds to men and women alike, and voices rose in song.

Jane released Spence’s arm, the cold of her absence disheartening. She beamed in true gladness as village women greeted her and pulled her into their circle.

Spencer watched Lady Jane come alive, the primness she’d exhibited in her family home dropping away. Her face blossomed in the firelight, a midnight curl dropped to her shoulder, and her eyes sparkled like starlight—his faery creature in a fur-lined redingote and bonnet.

Barnett has a lot to answer for,he thought in disgust.She deserves so much more.

But who was Spencer to interfere with his friend’s intentions? Perhaps Barnett loved her dearly and was too bashful to say so.

The devil he was. When Barnett had greeted Jane tonight, he’d betrayed no joy of at last being with her, no need for her presence. He was as obtuse as a brick. Barnett had Jane safely in his sights, and took for granted she’d always be there.

Man needed to be taught a lesson. Spencer decided then and there to be the teacher.

* * *

Jane had forgotten how much she enjoyed the bonfires at New Year’s. The villagers had always had a New Year’s celebration, and when Grandfather came to live with Jane’s family after Grandmother’s death, he’d taught them all about Hogmanay. None of the villagers were Scots, and in fact, had ancestors who’d fought Bonnie Prince Charlie, but the lads and lasses of Shefford St. Mary were always keen for a knees-up.

Jane had come to the bonfires every year as a child with her brother and cousins, and tonight, she was welcomed by the village women with smiles, curtseys, and even embraces.

The villagers linked hands to form a ring around one of the fires. Jane found her hand enclosed in Captain Ingram’s large, warm one, his grip firm under his glove. Thomas clasped her other hand and nearly dragged Jane off her feet as they began to circle the fire at a rapid pace.

She glanced at Captain Ingram, to find his gray eyes fixed on her, his smile broad and genuine. His reserve evaporated as the circle continued, faster and faster. He’d claimed to be an indifferent dancer, but in wild abandon, he excelled.

Jane found she did too. Before long, she was laughing out loud, kicking up her feet as giddily as Grandfather had, as the villagers snaked back and forth. This was true country dancing, not the orchestrated, rather stiff parading in the ballroom.

The church clocks in this village and the next struck two, the notes shimmering in the cold. Village men seized their sweethearts, their wives, swung them around, and kissed them.

Strong hands landed on Jane’s waist. Captain Ingram pulled her in a tight circle, out of the firelight. A warm red glow brushed his face as he dragged Jane impossibly close. Then he kissed her.

The world spun, silence taking the place of laughter, shouting, the crackle of the fire, the dying peal of the bells.

Spencer Ingram’s heat washed over Jane, dissolving anything stiff, until she flowed against him, her lips seeking his.

The kiss was tender, a brief moment of longing, of desire simmering below the surface. Jane wanted that moment to stretch forever, through Hogmanay night to welcoming dawn, and for the rest of her life.

Revelers bumped them, and Spencer broke the kiss. Jane hung in his arms, he holding her steady against the crush.

She saw no remorse in his eyes, no shame that he’d kissed another man’s intended. Jane felt no remorse either. She was a free woman, not officially betrothed, not yet belonging to John, and she knew this with all her being.

Spencer set her on her feet and gently released her. They continued to study each other, no words between them, only acknowledgment that they had kissed, and that it had meant something.

Thomas came toward them. “We should go back, Janie,” he said with regret. “Auntie will be looking for us.”

He seemed to have noticed nothing, not the kiss, not the way Jane and Spencer regarded each other in charged silence.

The moment broke. Jane turned swiftly to Thomas and held out her hand. “Yes, indeed. It is high time we went home.”

* * *