Doon (Doon Novel, A) (11 page)

I tried to pull away from him, but strong arms held me in place as I stammered, “I’m so—so—sorry, please let me go and I’ll get off you.”

His warm breath pushed against my throat and a blush rushed up my neck as the truth washed through me—I’d tackled and was lying on top of Jamie MacCrae, boy of my dreams, future king of Doon.
Ugg!

Just when I thought I couldn’t handle the mortification any longer, his hold loosened. Quickly, I rolled to the side, landing in the grass beside him.

“I’m sorr—”

“Och, lass, I heard you the first time. Dinna apologize again.” I caught a quick glimpse of his impossibly gorgeous face before he rose to his feet and tugged his idiotic hood back into place. Closing my eyes to shut out tears of humiliation, I lay as still as possible, hoping I would simply melt into the ground. This was
not
what I had in mind by living in the moment.

The distinct sound of someone clearing his throat caused me to open one eye. Jamie stood at my feet with his hand extended.

Slowly, fixing my eyes somewhere around the vicinity of his chest, I sat up and placed my hand in his large, warm fingers. The contact sent a delicious tingle all the way up my arm as he pulled me to my feet in one easy movement. I looked up into his face and our gazes crashed as forcibly as the recent impact of our bodies. His eyes, the color of rich coffee, flowed over my face, melting me like the first thaw of spring.

My eyes lowered to his strong lips. Would they be as soft as I imagined? I leaned toward him and—his face closed like a door slamming shut. He dropped my hand, practically flinging it back at me. Then he turned on his heels and strode away.

Stunned, I drew in a ragged breath and then busied myself with smoothing my hair and brushing bits of grass off my skirt. Kenna and Duncan were nowhere in sight. It appeared no one else in our group had witnessed my nosedive into the crown prince of Doon or the way he’d callously crushed my heart and then walked off.

Fiona fell into step beside me. “Are ye all right, Veronica?”

Except for Fiona
, I corrected myself with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll live,” I said as lightly as I could, but one look at her knowing face made me realize I wasn’t fooling her with my glib attitude. I shrugged, unwilling to replay Jamie’s scathing
rejection. “I feel like a fool. He was trying to put the steps down for me and I was in such a rush that I fell right on top of him!”

Fiona put her arm around my shoulders as we walked. “’Tis good for the lad ta have some sense knocked into him once in a while.”

I smiled in relief at her irreverent comment, and we made our way toward the crowded marketplace. Fergus, Duncan, and Kenna waited for us at the edge of the crowd and Jamie—well, Jamie’d vanished … again.

Not that I cared. Just because I forgot to breathe when he looked at me didn’t mean he had anything to do with my happiness. So he was the most gorgeous boy I’d ever seen. And yes, he was the prince of an enchanted kingdom …
So what—
he was a jerk! And he obviously didn’t give a fig about me. I’d clearly misread his intentions when he was popping in and out of my world as if it were the local quickie mart.

Rushing ahead, I caught up with my new giant friend. “Fergus, where might I find the best strawberries in Doon?”

If I only had two weeks in this idyllic kingdom, I was determined to enjoy every moment of the experience.

“Right this way, little lass,” Fergus answered, extending his elbow.

The market was a melting pot of cultures and beautiful handcrafted goods—colorful pottery, beeswax candles, flowing skirts, braided quilts, metal crafts—each item of such excellent quality, I couldn’t believe the cheap prices. Fergus pointed toward the far end. “Strawberries are over yon, as are the bridies and pies … I recommend the steak and kidney and the lamb. A word of warning, you might want to stay away from the sushi—the fish is raw.”

Doon has sushi?
Before I could comment, Fergus resumed,
“Anything ye want, just direct the shopkeeper ta bill the royal family. I’m off to the haberdashery stall the next row over to purchase a new tam. I fancy one with a yellow toorie. Shout if ye have need of me.”

I nodded to Fergus, content to wander on my own and ogle the amazing deals. A few stalls over, Kenna and Fiona inspected tartan plaids. Duncan drifted around the market shaking hands and speaking to every person in sight like a local politician … which to some extent he was. But no matter where he roamed, I noted he never strayed too far from my best friend’s side.

As I continued my exploration, I began to notice something disturbing. The Doonians, both shoppers and salespeople alike, seemed hesitant to meet my gaze. I’d hoped with the king’s blessing the people would give us the benefit of the doubt. To test my suspicion, I smiled at a merchant with russet skin, prominent cheekbones, and a jet-black braid, recognizing a fellow American, but as soon as I caught his eye his attention shifted back to the arrow he was fletching.

“Sushi! Are you kidding me?”

Ahead, Kenna’s voice reverberated through the makeshift aisles. With Duncan and Fiona flanking her, they stopped to exchange pleasantries with an Asian family selling fresh sushi rolls and ale. I moved toward them until a booth glowing with all the colors of a summer sunset caught my eye. Altering my course, I moved through the crowd toward the magnificent display.

Paintings in radiant orange, red, deep purple, and gold decorated the booth. A tall, willowy woman with ebony skin inclined her turban-wrapped head to me as I approached. Pleased that she didn’t appear to be afraid of me, I returned her greeting with a smile and then marveled at the vibrant watercolors of
African savannas, alongside landscapes of green hills carpeted with heather. Around the side of the booth, I found a display of painted sculptures, each one more remarkable than the next. In the center, a bit taller than the rest, was a perfect re-creation of the Castle MacCrae.

Mesmerized, I reached out and placed the miniature creation in the palm of my hand. It was perfect from every angle, each gray stone, blue turret, parapet wall, and arched doorway rendered in minute, flawless detail. It would make the ideal souvenir.

With a sigh, I set the castle back on its shelf. Although Fergus had said to charge anything I liked, I wasn’t about to buy anything with Jamie’s money. Continuing around the booth, I found a red-haired, freckled man minding two beautiful children with caramel-colored skin, the girl’s braided hair a rich auburn and her younger brother a miniature of his regal mother.

The boy approached, extending a wilted flower clutched in his fist. “Yer pretty.”

I squatted down to his level and smiled. “Is this for me?”

He nodded, his solemn chestnut eyes taking up half of his face, and my heart melted as I plucked the blossom from his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Lachlan, miss.”

“Thank you, Lachlan. I shall cherish this always.” Maybe I didn’t need money to have a remembrance of my time in Doon.

The boy’s focus slid past me, his eyes widening in excitement as a mischievous smile lit up his face. “Prince Jamie!”

I stood and spun on my heel to find a hooded figure hovering at the edge of the artist’s booth. His face was angled away, but the set of broad shoulders beneath his cloak was unmistakable.

The boy slid a wooden sword from his belt and brandished it in front of him, rushing in Jamie’s direction. “En garde, ye scoundrel!”

Jamie turned toward the boy, a tiny grin tilting his lips as he pushed his hood back and extended his empty hands in front of him. “I am unarmed, sir. Show mercy.”

“No mercy for the weak. Choose your weapon!” Lachlan turned sideways, his little feet set in a fencer’s pose, and poked Jamie’s leg with the tip of his sword.

Jamie whirled and snatched a long baguette from the neighboring stall, wielding it in front of him like a weapon. “What be the stakes, Sir Lachlan?”

Clearly this wasn’t their first mock sword fight. I glanced over at Lachlan’s parents. His father grinned indulgently and his mother’s eyes glinted with a kind of pride, perhaps because her son wasn’t intimidated by the future king of Doon.

Lachlan inclined his head in my direction. “We’ll fight for yon lady’s favor.”

A playful grin spread across Jamie’s face and the heavy mantel of responsibility he carried disappeared before my eyes. “Yer on.”

My heart twirled in a joyful pirouette as I watched the way Jamie engaged Lachlan, allowing the boy to gain the upper hand as they danced across the narrow space between stalls, their swords crossing again and again.

Lachlan advanced with wide sweeps, his little face set in concentration. Jamie retreated and then parried, taunting the boy. “Ah, Sir Lachlan, surely a champion of the crown can do better than that.”

“Perhaps ye need to spend more time in the lists, ye nasty rogue!” The boy hefted his sword in both hands and chopped off the end of Jamie’s baguette.

Laughter burst from my chest as Jamie stared in stunned indignation at his broken bread sword.

Pressing his advantage, Lachlan lunged. Jamie leaned into the blow allowing the toy sword to slide between his side and his arm. “Ugg! Ye got me!” The baguette dropped to the ground and Jamie staggered back, hunched over and clutching his gut with both hands.

Lachlan jumped up and down, cheering and waving his weapon in the air as the villainous prince fell to the ground. After a moment, Jamie’s writhing and groaning stilled and Lachlan approached cautiously, leaning over his fallen advisory. Cupping his hand around his mouth, he whispered loudly, “Ye’ll never win the pretty maiden’s heart that way.”

The prince’s eyes popped open. “Ye dinna think?” He grabbed Lachlan around the waist and lifted him into the air, the boy’s giggles echoing through the square as Jamie rolled him into the grass and tickled his ribs.

“Vee, you’ve got to check out this sushi.” Kenna materialized out of nowhere and took my hand to pull me away, but not before Jamie sat up, his laughing eyes locking with mine in a shared, carefree moment. I smiled tentatively, hoping he didn’t notice the blush heating my cheeks.

Jamie’s lips quirked in a rueful grin and then he glanced away, hoisting himself to his feet just as Kenna gave my hand a yank. Reluctantly, I let her guide me away, but my mind lingered on the playful boy who happily indulged a child’s fantasy without any ulterior motive.

Who was the real Jamie MacCrae? A ruthless ruler or a puckish prince? Perhaps he was a bit of both. And just like that, a tiny sprout of hope bloomed in my chest.

A
fter the throne room, I’d commenced something I liked to call
Survivor: Brigadoon
. The bridge would open in a little less than two weeks. If Vee and I were going to escape with our lives and hearts intact, I couldn’t afford to let my guard down for a second.

Despite the previous day’s
Crucible
reenactment, Vee still felt this kingdom was her destiny. But when it came to my best friend, I was leaving no man—or in this case, no cheerleader—behind. So unless Prince Not-So-Charming came riding up on a golden unicorn and showered her with rainbows, she was coming home with me.

Vee’d been too busy ogling all the bright, shiny trinkets in the marketplace to notice Jamie shadowing us. Visions or not, he was far too bipolar to be a match for my best friend. She deserved a true prince—not some moody poseur with a crown. Yet, if I knew her, his conflicted Edward Cullen act would hook her faster than meth.

Duncan’s sunny disposition, on the other hand, never faltered. Worlds apart from the golden-haired prince with the tortured soul, our dark-haired benefactor possessed an unwavering heart of gold and a quick sense of humor. Both of which, to my disconcertment, were growing on me.

The afternoon had passed quickly with Duncan shepherding us around the village. In his brother’s absence, he’d even engaged Vee without being flirty. Duncan had also shared quirky little stories from his childhood and pointed out his most favorite places. No matter where he went, people greeted him like a beloved friend. He inquired after their families and promised to come round and help with various carpentry projects. Observing his interactions, I had no doubt every one of those promises would be kept.

If I’d met him on the stage, I would’ve instantly liked him. Heck, I’d have fallen like an avalanche of anvils—especially when he favored me with his smile. But in the not-so-real world, I did my best to keep a civil distance and not succumb to his charms. In two weeks, this would all be as distant a memory as a midsummer night’s dream.

But like my opinion of Duncan, my impression of Doon had grown more favorable with each interaction. I was beginning to understand why Gracie loved this place. It was ideal for dreamers like my aunt and Vee.

The little tavern we were in was a perfect example. The place smelled like heaven—like rising yeast, spices, and roasting meat—yet part of me remained skeptical the dishes could live up to the olfactory tease.

Vee closed her eyes and inhaled appreciatively. For a skinny thing, she sure loved to eat. As she seated herself next to Fiona, she grinned maniacally at the prospect of another fabulous meal. “So, what’s good here?”

Duncan and Fergus sat across from us, their faces mirroring Vee’s food lust. Fergus, who looked like he’d never skipped a meal in his life, licked his lips in anticipation. Perched proudly on his head was a green and blue plaid beret-like cap with a yellow pom-pom. “I’d say just about everythin’.”

As I opened my mouth to request a menu, Duncan interjected from across the table, “I shall order for us!” He caught my eye, his full lips quirking in a lopsided challenge.

“I’ve already taken the liberty of ordering, brother.” Out of thin air, Jamie appeared. He pulled back his Prince of Darkness hood and sat in the empty chair next to Vee as easy as if they’d known one another their whole lives.

Duncan rolled his eyes. His fun-loving demeanor wavered as he regarded his MIA brother. “Decided to join us again, did ye?”

Jamie returned Duncan’s stare with hard, defiant eyes and tightly set lips. “I had business to attend.”

“Really? I struggle to see what could be more important than spending time with your people.”

“I assure you, Duncan, my priorities were exactly where they needed to be.”

Vee’s hand flew to her mouth, her shoulders twitching with—laughter? Jamie’s twinkling eyes darted to her and they shared a secret smile. I had no idea when they had time for an inside joke, since I’d been glued to Vee’s side practically the entire day. Before I could ask what my bestie found so funny, a waitress with dark skin and a bright crimson sari approached bearing a suspiciously flat, round metal tray. Familiar garlic-scented wafts of steam trailed in her wake. I recognized that smell.

“Holy Hammerstein! Is that pizza?” My voice rang so loudly through the room that other diners stopped what they were
doing and turned in our direction. But I didn’t care. Doon had pizza!

As the platter containing what looked to be a large pepperoni was set before us, the occupants of our table relaxed. Vee slid Jamie a sidelong glance. “Is this really pizza?”

“Aye. Likely the best you’ll ever eat.” With a chuckle, he handed her a slice. Vee’s thumb brushed Jamie’s palm and he bobbled her food like a fourth-string quarterback. Hand off completed, he paused, his attention singularly focused on the area of her mouth while she bit into the triangle of meat and cheese.

After a moan of culinary bliss, she bit off a larger chunk and swallowed it whole. “Sooo good. I mean—thank you, m’ laird.”

Jamie tore his attention from Vee’s lips with a slight grimace. “Glad ye approve. As I said, you need not stand on ceremony here. Call me Jamie.”

Vee ignored his request as she dove into her meal like it was her last. I couldn’t blame her … my own little slice of paradise beckoned. After several satisfying mouthfuls I asked, “How? I mean, where did you people get pizza?”

Jamie’s eyes lit up as he explained with quiet pride, “Mario’s an import from Italy, one of the Destined.”

Unwilling to relinquish my slice for even a moment, I choked out between swallows of food, “
Who’s
a
what
?”

Jamie laughed. “The restaurant owner’s one of the Destined. Mario came to us during the last Centennial and decided to stay.”

“As I told ye before, Mackenna, we’re no’ barbarians.” Duncan’s statement might have been more impactful if he hadn’t been speaking with his mouth full, but I decided to let it slide on account of him being such a wonderful host.

The pride on Jamie’s face deepened into quiet passion. “Each Centennial, while some Doonians are welcoming new
arrivals, others will go out inta the modern world to gather up as much information as possible about the history and progress of that realm. With the help of the new imports, we implement changes that would best benefit Doon, like running water and modern plumbing, while preserving our culture.”

Vee met Jamie’s gaze with a hunger than had nothing to do with food. “Why not electricity?”

“Electricity was fairly new at the last Centennial.” Jamie gestured around the tavern. “Doon has adequate sources of heat and light, so generating electricity wasn’t deemed of enough benefit to implement. O’ course, it will be evaluated again after the next gathering.”

“How does the Centennial work, exactly?” Leave it to Vee to want to peek behind the curtain and discover the inner workings; it was our way out, which was enough for me.

“On the Centennial, the Brig o’ Doon opens for twenty-four of your hours. In that time, Doonians and the Destined, those called from the outside world, are free to come and go as they please.”

She digested the information, her pizza forgotten. “So the Outsiders could stay in Doon?”

“Aye. Most all do.”

“And the Doonians?”

“Do not have to return, if they dinna want to—but that rarely happens.”

Vee’s train of thought furrowed her brow. Rather than look at Jamie, she picked at the checkered tablecloth. “So a Doonian could choose to stay in my world, if he—or she—wanted.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed as if he were trying to read the thought behind her question. But rather than respond he indicated her neglected plate. “Ye best eat before your food gets cold.”

Back to being Prince Not-So-Charming, Jamie turned to Duncan and began to discuss plans for the next gathering in a low voice. Duncan cast me a helpless glance that I took to mean he’d rather be socializing than talking official business. But it’s not like he had much of a choice, as someday soon his brother would be in charge—Jamie was the heir and Duncan merely the number two. The spare.

A quarter hour later, Fergus leaned back in his chair and caressed his bulging belly with meaty hands. “I dinna think I can eat another morsel.” Although I had not personally eaten two whole pizzas, like the big man, I still echoed his sentiments.
Best pizza ever!

Fiona cast Fergus a teasingly stern look. “’Tis a good thing, Fergus Lockhart, because I don’t think Mario has a morsel left ta spare.” Through most of the meal, she’d remained silent. Observing. I doubted there was much of anything she failed to pick up on.

“Sì.” Mario, the mustached restaurateur who’d been the benefactor of our incredible meal, joined us with a chuckle. “
Ma va bene se gli piaceva la mia cucina
.”

Fergus looked blearily at Duncan, his brain likely struggling to process the conversation due to his food coma. “What’d he say?”

Trying to suppress his laughter enough to translate, Duncan replied, “He said, ‘It’s fine as long as you enjoyed his food.’”

“His
cooking
, Duncan,” Jamie interjected with a hint of superiority. “
Cibo
is food.
Cucina
means cooking.”

Duncan rolled his eyes. “
Cucina
also means kitchen, Jamie. My translation was contextual rather than literal.” His impish wink at me made it clear Duncan was baiting his brother. Although I had no idea why. To me it seemed as advisable as poking a bear.

Jamie glared from across the table, his dark eyes narrowed
as a muscle in his jaw ticked. “Are you saying that your Italian is better than mine?”

Duncan nodded in the affirmative. “Sì, certo!”

The brothers jumped to their feet in unison, causing Mario to raise his hand to his forehead. In thickly accented English, he exclaimed, “Not again.
Ragazzi
!” Other than Mario’s admonishment, no one else in the tavern appeared particularly alarmed that the princes were on the verge of coming to blows over a translation.

After a moment of testosterone-fueled opposition, Jamie’s lips began to twitch and Duncan’s shoulders started to quake. In a strangled voice, Jamie said, “Italian aside, can we not agree, brother, that Fergus’s new tam is the ugliest hat in all the realm?”

Between heaves, Duncan replied, “Aye.” Laughing too hard to say more, he collapsed back into his chair, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.

Fergus looked from one prince to the other in astonishment, finally settling on his future leader. “Wha’s wrong with m’ tam, exactly?”

Besides the bright yellow pom-pom? In the marketplace, I’d seen lots of people wearing tams of the Doonian plaid—called the Auld MacCrae, which I’d learned thanks to Fiona—with a green or blue toorie on top. But nothing quite like Fergus’s. To my left, I heard Vee muffling giggles behind her napkin and I couldn’t help but cave.

Truth be told, he was a big man … in a
little
hat.

With his pride at stake, the giant turned to Fiona. “You care for it, don’t ye, Fee?”

Fiona blinked at him, her face deliberately placid despite widened eyes. After a moment she stood and smoothed her
skirt. “I want ta pop round and see my mum before returning ta the castle. So if ye don’t mind, I’ll take my leave.”

In a surprisingly lithe move, Fergus sprang to his feet. Before Fiona had taken a half dozen steps, he was at her side. She paused and lifted her lovely face toward her massive shadow. “What’re ye doing, Fergus Lockhart?”

“Escorting ye.” His face colored ten different shades of mottled pink, but he didn’t back down.

“Because the streets o’ Doon are so unsavory?” Undeterred by Fergus’s size, Fiona placed a petite hand on his sternum and pushed. “Shove off! I can fend for m’self.”

Fergus placed his bear claw of a hand over hers, trapping her palm against his chest. He leaned toward his captive and invaded her space while speaking in a low, even voice. “That may be, Fee, but the people are in a state of unease”—he glanced at us apologetically—“because o’ our new arrivals. So I’m escorting ye.”

Fiona’s nostrils flared, but not from anger. Her pupils swallowed up her hazel eyes as she inclined her mouth toward Fergus’s bright red ear. “Fine. But you better not eat all of Mum’s biscuits again.”

With that, she yanked her hand from the giant’s grasp, spun on her heels, and stalked out the door. With a contrite “m’ lairds” and a single nod, Fergus followed in her wake.

The moment the tavern door shut, Duncan and Jamie exploded with laughter. Duncan raked his hand through his already-chaotic hair so that it formed dark, spiky peaks. “Poor lad.”

Jamie nodded in agreement. “Aye.”

I failed to get the joke. “Why?”

“Why?” Jamie smiled, looking the most at ease he’d been all
evening. “Because he’s totally besotted, that’s why. He’s been in love with Fiona since childhood.”

A miniscule sigh slipped from my bestie. Out of the corner of my eye, I noted the devastating effect of Jamie’s smile. In the aftermath, her eyes brimmed with stars that rivaled the Hollywood Walk of Fame’s.

Not that I could claim to be completely unaffected. When he wasn’t sulking, Jamie was one of the hottest guys I’d ever seen—aside from his brother. Staring at the two of them side by side was like stepping into a medieval Calvin Klein ad—only with more clothing. And when the both of them smiled, I felt the resulting swoon deep in my girly parts.

Speaking of swooning, Vee blinked dreamily up at Jamie. “And Fiona doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Nay, she’s crazy about him too.” Duncan pulled the focus back to himself, but not before I noticed Jamie’s posture shift slightly away from Vee. “But he’ll not have an easy time of winning her.”

“Winning her?” While I wasn’t a brainiac like Vee, I didn’t typically need water wings in the shallow end. I was obviously missing something. “She’s not a prize turkey. If they like each other, why don’t they just talk it out? Honesty is the foundation of a healthy relationship.”

“That’s what I was saying to Jamie this very morning.” Duncan propped his chin on his fist, batting his lashes and favoring me with a disarming smile. His twinkling eyes drew me in like a magnetic force field. Imaginary music swelled, filling the tavern with the sweet love ballad of Christine and Raoul from
Phantom
.