Doon (Doon Novel, A) (17 page)

Were his ears too big, and his slightly stubbled chin too square? Maybe his lips were too full, too perfectly shaped? And his eyes, were they too expressive? The only true imperfection I could find was a slight crook in his nose, a tiny defect that, unfortunately, only enhanced his appearance by proving he was, indeed, human.

Captivated by his striking features, I didn’t realize how long I’d been looking until he squirmed. “Och, you’re makin’ me uncomfortable with your staring.”

He chuckled self-consciously, and that little bit of vulnerability made me bold—that and the memory of how it felt to be in his arms at the dance. So many times the previous evening,
I’d ignored the urge to touch his beautiful face. Unable to resist now, I reached out and traced the line of his nose from between his brows to the tip.

“How’d you break your nose?”

Duncan nipped at my finger and I pulled away. His voice when he spoke was so quiet that I leaned toward him to hear. “I’ll give ye one guess.”

“Jamie?” I had a hard time believing his brother would hurt him so deliberately, until I remembered the sword fight the morning Vee and I’d arrived.

“Aye.”

“Do you and your brother often try to kill each other?”

It took a moment for him to grasp my implication, and when he did his eyes widened in shock. “No. My nose was an accident.” He rubbed the crooked bump thoughtfully. “At least I think it was an accident. ’Twas a long time ago.”

Propping myself on my elbows once more, I challenged, “What about the tournament? The day I arrived?”

Duncan shrugged, a masculine yet elegant gesture that threatened to derail my train of thought. “What about it?”

“Jamie cut you—more than once. You looked like something out of a horror movie.”

His dark brows lifted in confusion. “Horror movie?”

I tried a different analogy. “You were bleeding like a stuck pig.”

In the face of my genuine concern, Duncan MacCrae tipped his head skyward and let loose a gut-busting laugh. It was so infuriating that I wanted to tackle him and—and—
Bad idea!
So I waited for him to get over his hilarity, doing my best to hold on to my indignation and hold back the rising heat that’d started at the mental image of me on top of him.

Once he could manage to talk again, he grinned. “I wouldna go so far as to call me a stuck pig.”

“Well, I would. It was like you were trying to get him to kill you.”

Duncan reached out and captured my chin. “Look at me, Mackenna.”

Instead, I clamped my eyes shut out of spite.

“Look at me, please.” He waited quietly until I complied. When I did open my eyes, the soft look on his face made my insides go gooey. “It was just a bit o’ blood. I’m fine. My brother would never intentionally hurt me. He loves me.”

I struggled to reconcile Duncan’s words with the images burned into my brain. As we stared at one another, his pupils expanded to become deep, dark wells. The intensity of those fathomless eyes reached into the secret places in my soul. Unable to stand the magnetism of his gaze, I pulled my face away and traced the plaid pattern of the blanket with my eyes.

He continued as if our conversation had been going on the whole time. “Jamie has a lot of pressure on him. He’ll be our king—soon—and combat is the only way he seems to be able to blow off steam. That’s why I provoke him sometimes. I’d rather he take his aggression out on me than one of the other lads. And he means no harm. Truly.”

“It must be a lot—having to become king and settle on a bride in such a short time.”

“Aye.”

“And he plans on marrying Sofia?”

Clearly surprised by my knowledge, he blinked several times. “You’re better informed than I thought.”

I shrugged and risked a peek in his direction. “What else is there to do but talk?”

“Aye, ’tis true. The village expects his engagement to Sofia.” His eyes turned suddenly soulful, and he flopped on his back to stare at plump clouds marring the perfect summer sky.
“The truth is, I envy my brother. He struggles over the simple things—things I’ve always wanted. To carve out a life here. And …”

His dramatic pause irritated me. “And …”

“To have a Calling.”

It appeared that here in Doon, receiving a Calling was like winning the romance lottery. For a medieval land, they appeared surprisingly enlightened. So why was everyone absorbed with getting hitched? “What’s so great about a Calling, anyway?”

Duncan turned his attention back to me. His eyes blazed with a light that matched his impassioned words. “It’s divine confirmation of your partner—that you’ve found your perfect match in every way. No uncertainty. And that love will only grow. It will never fade, never die. It lasts forever.”

“You believe Jamie’s had a Calling?”

“Aye.”

“What does he think?”

“He thinks it’s complicated. He’s confused. But in my opinion, the problem is he’s busy thinking when he should just trust his heart.”

Somehow Duncan and I had drifted closer together during the last bit of conversation, and my face was now inches from his. When I glanced at his mouth, he angled his head and parted his lips in an unmistakable invitation.

What were the implications of kissing in Doon? Did they have such a thing as hooking up? Or would a little lip locking send Duncan scurrying to the imperial jewelers for a diamond ring?

Uncertainty caused me to roll away from him and sit up. “Aside from finding true love, don’t you have things you want to do with your life?”

He pulled himself up beside me and rested his forearms on his knees. “All I’ve ever wanted since I was a wee lad was to serve the citizens of Doon, my kingdom and my king.”

“Even if that king is Jamie?”

“Aye. He needs me.” I sensed Duncan would be satisfied to play second fiddle. His loyalties ran deep—he’d have no problem seeing Jamie as a king first and a brother second. As if he read my thoughts, he smiled impishly. “Though he still might need takin’ down a notch now and then.”

I imagined the big ogre beating the new king of Doon playfully across the butt with the flat of his sword and the royal outrage it would cause. That would
nearly
be worth staying for.

A flock of birds shot from the canopy of the forest like they were bent on avenging their stolen eggs. Duncan pointed to them. “Crossbills. They’re a type of finch.”

We watched as they disappeared into the thick gray clouds rolling our direction. I wondered how much time we had until the rain came.

After an eternity, Duncan cast me a sidelong look. “What about you? What do you want to do with your life?”

Resisting the urge to lose myself in his brown eyes, I struggled to put my aspirations into a context he would understand. “It’s always been my dream to become a professional actress. I have this amazing theater internship in Chicago.”

“And then what?”

“Then I conquer Broadway and win a Tony.” Duncan’s brows pinched together and I clarified, “Tony’s not a person. It’s an award—an accolade. It’s like the Calling of the theater world.”

He nodded in understanding. “And after Broad Way?”

“I die happy?” That was such a long way off. I always imagined I’d be like Betty Buckley, performing way into the sunset of my life.

With a hint of frustration, Duncan demanded, “What about love and a family?”

“Maybe … someday. But neither one is at the top of my to-do list. Your culture might be fixated on Callings, but for me, true love is one of the worst things that could happen. I can’t have my heart getting in the way of my dreams.”

Duncan regarded me impassively. “I see. Thank you for clarifying your position.”

As he began unpacking our picnic basket, I told myself it was better this way. The last thing I needed was to let some romantic entanglement get in the way of me leaving at the Centennial. And if flirting was the first step on the Doonian path to matrimony, better not to venture down that road at all. Perhaps if I were really lucky, Duncan Rhys Finnean MacCrae would get his Calling and turn his charms toward some nice local lass. Then I’d barely even regret not kissing him when I had the chance.

I
t felt good to stretch my muscles as I followed Jamie up the mountain path. But I couldn’t get the morning’s chapel service out of my mind. I hadn’t been to church since before—that is, before Dad went off the drug-induced deep end.

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe. I’d always believed in the existence of God. It’d just been too painful to go back to the place where I’d sat sheltered between both my parents, listening to my dad’s smooth, tenor voice singing beside me. But seeing the Doonians’—and Jamie’s—united faith sparked a longing inside me to be part of something bigger than myself.

At the close of the service, Jamie had stood in for his father and led the kingdom in song, his rich voice flowing into the darkest corners of my spirit. Then he’d smiled that smile of his, and I’d sensed half the population of Doon, young and old, swooning along with me. And how could they not be affected by someone possessing such internal and external beauty?

Pebbles dislodged under Jamie’s boots and my focus shifted to the view directly in front of me—powerful legs, agile as a
mountain lion, dashing up the path. Jamie was wearing a kilt. For the ten-thousandth time, I doubted the wisdom of this little outing. Really, I was setting myself up for an epic fall.

As if in fateful confirmation, I stubbed my toe hard and fell to my knees in the dirt. “Mother cusser!”

Dusting my hands off, I looked up, blew the hair out of my eyes, and saw Jamie hovering above me, one eyebrow arched, his lips wobbling with suppressed laughter.

“Do ye need to turn back?”

I glared up at him, refused the hand he extended to help me up, and attempted to get back on my feet. But as I moved to stand, my foot anchored the edge of my skirt to the ground and I pitched forward, right into him. My momentum pushed him back a step as he caught me under my arms.

“I’m starting to think you throw yourself at me on purpose, lass.”

The joke struck far too close to home. Getting my feet underneath me, I tried to pull away but his hands tightened around my sides, locking me in place.

“Let go!” I grabbed his solid forearms, pushing back in a futile attempt to extricate my ribcage from his strong fingers. But he just stood there, unmoving, a sort of dazed half-grin on his face.

Gradually, I became aware of the steady pressure of his warm palms against the sides of my chest. Unwilling to acknowledge how our intimate contact affected me, I opened my mouth and said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you maul all the females in your kingdom? Or just those that will be gone in two weeks?”

Jamie’s face turned to stone, and his hands dropped to his sides. Immediately filled with regret for my unkind words and the loss of his touch, I reached out and grabbed his hand as he turned away.

“Jamie, I’m sorry … I didn’t mean it.”

Slowly, he turned back toward me, his face an unreadable mask. I returned his stare for several long seconds, and then he squeezed my hand, his mouth tilting into a thoughtful closed-lipped smile before he replied, “Do you realize that’s the first time ye’ve used my given name?”

“No, I hadn’t realized that.” I shrugged and stared at the toe of my boot as I made circles in the dirt.

He was right, of course. I hadn’t once, since arriving in Doon, addressed him by his first name, even though he’d invited me to do so and I’d thought of him as Jamie all the time. But after having said it, I felt as if my two images of him, the unattainable dream guy and the real-life Jamie, were inexplicably merging into one.

“I liked it,” he said, lifting my chin with his thumb and forefinger. His warm brown eyes swept over my face, lingering on each individual feature. Would he kiss me? Blood rushed in my ears—

A thrashing sound behind us drew Jamie’s attention. Looking over my head, he dropped his hand from my face, his posture alert.

I turned to see a fawn, its liquid eyes wide and unblinking, a cluster of leaves forgotten in its mouth. Half expecting it to trot over to us like an animal in a fairy tale, I held very still.

“’Tis but a wee babe,” Jamie whispered close to my ear. “When I was a lad, I tried to keep one as a pet.”

In a blink, the fawn whipped around, showing us the cottony underside of its tail as it leapt back into the forest.

Turning, I asked, “What happened with your deer?”

He grinned, and I could see him as a little blond boy, dirt smudged on his dimpled cheeks.

“I lured it into the castle with a trail of raspberries. But my
ma wouldna have any of it. Said deer droppings were not an appropriate addition to the castle motif.”

I burst out laughing at the image of the spoiled princeling thwarted by his mother, the pragmatic queen.

“Come. We’re almost there.” He tugged my hand and we set off together up the path.

The rocky trail opened onto a plateau, surrounded by forest and guarded on three sides by soaring mountains.

“Oh.” It was an inadequate response, but the beauty of the glen that lay before us stole my breath—and apparently my ability to form words.

Jamie squeezed my hand in understanding. “Worth the hike, eh?”

“Absolutely.”

Hand in hand, we stepped off the path and into a rainbow of prairie grass and wildflowers, our movement releasing a fusion of bright, sweet perfume that I wished I could bottle and save for a rainy day.

“I’ve taken the liberty of selectin’ a spot for us on the far side o’ the glade. Are you hungry?”

I tore my gaze away from the deep-red poppies, golden buttercups, and delicate bluebells brushing my skirt to glance at the impossibly gorgeous guy gazing down at me, and felt a little faint. Whatever happened in the future, I had to stop analyzing Jamie’s every move and seize this moment. Taste it, touch it, smell it, feel it—etch the memory forever in my heart.

A smile burst from deep inside me. “Yes, ravenous, and thirsty too.”

With an amused grin, he hefted the basket in his hand like a
dumbbell. “Well, ye’re in luck then. By the weight of this thing, I’d say Fiona packed us a right feast!”

Down a short hill and across a gurgling stream, we found Jamie’s perfect spot and spread out a tartan blanket under the trees.

I stepped onto the fluttering plaid cloth and sat with my legs crossed under my skirt. “So, how did you find this place?”

“As lads, Duncan and I made it our life’s goal to explore every inch of Doon.”

Jamie moved to the opposite side of the blanket, lowered himself to one knee, and began unpacking our lunch. “As large as Doon is, it is finite, and what adventure is to be found …” He glanced up, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, two lads such as m’ brother and I were determined to find it.”

“Did you accomplish your goal then? Have you seen every inch of the kingdom?” I asked before popping a grape into my mouth.

A cloud passed over his eyes as he looked at me. “Aye. Every glade, forest glen, and mountain peak.”

As he spread out the amazing selection of food, the tension in his shoulders lessened, but he remained pensive. I wanted to say something cute to distract him, but nothing came to mind, so I busied myself filling my plate with cheeses, fresh rye bread, fruit, and a variety of salads. A feast fit for a king, I thought as a tense giggle slipped from my lips.

“Lemonade?”

“Yes, please.” I punctuated the two words by another giggle. Now that we’d stopped moving, my nerves were catching up to me.

Like a predator sensing fear, he fixed his gaze on my face, a hungry smile curling his lips. I froze, the laughter dying in my throat. Our eyes locked as he leaned forward with feral grace.
In the shadow of the trees, his eyes took on the hue of a midnight sky. My mouth opened, and I suppressed the urge to bite my lip as he moved closer.

Never breaking eye contact, Jamie reached toward me and carefully took the glass out of my hand. Then he sat back on his haunches, and picked up the carafe of lemonade. When he handed me the filled glass, I avoided touching his fingers.

“Thanks,” I said, pleased my voice didn’t squeak.

“You’re quite welcome.”

He smiled and I had to look away. Get a grip, Veronica! What was is it about this guy? I mean, besides the fact that he resembled a male model with the build of a professional athlete, his accent consistently melted the bones from my body, and, last but not least, he was a real-life freakin’ prince? Really, what did I have to be nervous about? That ridiculous conclusion made me giggle again.

“I like that.”

Startled out of my private thoughts, I looked up at Jamie, who during my preoccupation had devoured his first plate of food and was now loading up his second.

“What?”

“That ye dinna care what other people think of you.” He bit into a slice of turkey, grinning as he chewed.

“What do you mean?” I was sure he was making fun of me, but I hadn’t yet figured out how.

“You just start laughing at somethin’ you thought about in your head.” He took a huge bite of bread and kept talking. “Has anyone ever accused you of being a wee bit mad?” He twirled his finger in a circle near his ear in the universal gesture for crazy.

“No!” I pursed my lips in mock offense. “Has anyone ever told you that you have appalling table manners?”

He quirked an eyebrow.

I tilted my nose in the air in my best imitation of Mrs. Francis, Bainbridge High’s ever-pretentious Home Ec teacher. “‘One should never speak with one’s mouth full.’ Didn’t they teach you that in Prince School?”

Jamie flashed a wicked grin before stuffing half a slice of bread into his mouth, “Well, as the soon-to-be ruler o’ Doon, I declare speaking with one’s mouth full an edict. From this day forth, no one is to speak unless their mouth be stuffed full!”

At least that’s what I thought he said around the chunk of bread in his mouth. Mentally adding ‘great sense of humor’ to my growing list of his desirable traits, I sat up, jammed half an oatmeal cookie into my mouth, and raised my glass in the air. “Here, Here!” I cried, or rather, garbled around my stuffed mouth.

His loud laughter rang through the glen as he rocked back, catching himself just before he fell flat on his back. The dimple appeared along the side of his mouth, and I thought my heart might burst. This boy-king-to-be desperately needed a little fun in his life, and if I could play any part in that, then whatever time I had here in Doon would be well served.

“I never thanked you for the miniature castle.” I focused on a string that had frayed from the hem of my skirt before glancing up with a small smile. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re verra welcome.” Jamie beamed, set his plate down, and stood. “Come on,” he said, cocking his head in the direction of the trees.

“Archery?” I asked as I got to my feet and brushed crumbs from my skirt.

“Later. I have a mind to show you something special.”

We wound our way through the forest for at least fifteen minutes before he turned to me, extending his hand. I couldn’t
read his expression clearly in the shadow of the dense trees, but as I put my fingers in his I felt the excitement buzzing through him.

Pushing through a line of dense brush, we came out of the forest to face a sheer rock wall rising into the sky farther than I could see. Up ahead, a boulder protruded from the mountain appearing to block the path. A deep roar vibrated through my chest, and I tightened my grip on his hand.

As we approached the boulder, the roaring grew louder, and a new scent permeated the forest—a refreshing, briny aroma that cut straight through the pine and cedar. Glancing over his shoulder, Jamie smiled broadly and then turned left into a narrow rocky passage. I couldn’t see around him, but an invigorating breeze flowed around us, the rhythmic roaring becoming almost deafening.

The ocean. The realization hit me just as he pulled me out onto a ledge, and the whole world opened up before us.

“Oh, Jamie.” Squeezing his hand, I leaned into his arm.

Cobalt-blue water met the cerulean sky, stretching infinitely into the horizon. Jagged moss-covered rocks broke the waves crashing along the coastline far below. It was the most spectacular thing I’d ever seen. Of course, the only other time I’d seen the ocean I’d been careening down a crooked Scottish road in the rain, Kenna driving like an escaped NASCAR lunatic. That first day in Scotland seemed a lifetime ago now.

“’Tis the northernmost boundary of Doon,” Jamie said reverently.

We were standing on an outcropping protruding from the side of a cliff, the narrow beach two hundred feet below us.

“It’s breathtaking.”

“Aye. I come here often to think. When I feel … auntsee.”

His pronunciation threw me for a moment, but when I realized
he was saying
antsy
, I grinned up at him. He returned my smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Do you feel that way often?” I asked.

“From time to time …” He trailed off, but I sensed there was more he was not saying. “Shall we sit?”

“Sure.”

Jamie lowered himself on the ledge, leaned back against the rock face, and pulled me down beside him.

I let go of his hand to situate myself. The cool stone cut through the thin cotton of my shirt as I leaned back. Arranging the fabric around my bent legs, I realized I was sitting over a foot away from him. I stared back out at the ocean, and contemplated scooting closer but decided it would be too obvious.

“Come here.”

Although it was what I wanted, I bristled at the direct order. This boy was a little too accustomed to getting his every whim fulfilled without question.

Looking over at him, I lifted my brows in challenge. “No.” Then I turned my attention back to the view.

“Dinna be stubborn, lass,” he practically growled.

“You’re the stubborn one. I’m fine where I am.” I shrugged and stared straight ahead.

“Please, come sit with me,” he said, forced sincerity dripping from every word.

I glanced at him, fighting the smile curving up the corners of my mouth, and said, “Better.”

Scooting across the smooth rock, I closed about half the distance between us. A slow smirk spread across Jamie’s face, causing his eyes to narrow. I tensed, wondering if he would pounce.