Doon (Doon Novel, A) (25 page)

Duncan’s gaze riveted to my lips as he eliminated the space between us in two strides.

His large hands settled firmly, yet gently, on my hips. I angled my head to the right in feigned surprise and his tipped left in a hormonally charged game of chicken.

Batting my lashes, I whispered, “Sure I can’t tempt you to stay?”

“Nay.” A muscled ticked in his set jaw as his dark head managed a nearly imperceptible shake.

He was trying to beat me at my own game. But my acting skills gave me an advantage, both in discernment and one-ups-manship. I pressed my palms flat against his chiseled abdomen—low—and had the satisfaction of seeing his nostrils flare as I gave him a light shove. “Then you’d better go, Ogre.”

He overpowered my feeble attempt to repel him as if I were a paper doll. My heart thrummed against his body like an overexcited bird as he closed the gap between us. My eyelids drifted closed, as Duncan … kissed the tip of my nose?

I sensed him straighten up, while I waited idiotically with my eyes shut and my lips puckered. I might as well have worn a neon sign around my neck that said, “Desperate.” My lids snapped opened to find Duncan grinning at me. He appeared quite pleased with himself.

“Good-bye, Vision.” With a light chuckle, he released me and walked away.

The pompous jerk had won our little match. But the knowledge that he could and would walk away from me left a bitter taste in my mouth. Yes, I wanted him to get on with his life, but I didn’t want it to be easy. It wouldn’t be easy for me.

Listening to Duncan’s retreating footsteps, I felt like the unfortunate recipient of one of those cheesy vacation T-shirts: I slept with a Scottish prince and all I got was this lousy breakfast. Nauseated, I put the lid back on his sweet attempt at a homemade meal.

As soon as the front door closed, the bathroom opened behind me. Certain Vee’d been eavesdropping on my encounter with Duncan, I braced for her unsolicited opinion. Rather
than comment about the tray of misshapen breakfast food, she tossed Aunt Gracie’s journal on the nightstand and turned to challenge me. “Maybe you should think about staying.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Her big turquoise eyes pleaded with me to be reasonable. Well, her version of reasonable. “At least think about it.”

“I have—and if I don’t leave, I’ll be trapped here. With no Broadway, and no guarantee that it would work out with Duncan. What if I stay for him and then he imprints or something?”

“Imprints? Uh, he’s not a werewolf.”

“You know what I mean. What if he has a Calling? Then I’ll be forced to spend my very long life watching him make googly eyes at some skank that I’ve sworn to hate on sight.”

Vee’s eyes turned fierce as angry tears gathered in the corners. “Love is a risk. Even with a Calling, nothing is sure. But if you want him, you need to fight for him!”

Holy segue, Marvin Hamlisch! We were no longer talking about the absurd challenges of my love life. “So Jamie admitted that you guys have a Calling?”

She flopped onto the bed as if her bone structure was no longer capable of supporting the crushing weight of her disappointment. “Pretty much. But he’s also got a duty to his kingdom, and a fiancée.”

“Alleged fiancée,” I countered as I sat beside her. “I haven’t seen a ring on that freakishly tiny finger, have you?”

Vee propped herself up on her elbows so that I had the benefit of seeing the determined expression fueling her counterargument. “No. But Jamie’s an honorable guy. If he’s got an understanding with Sofia, he’ll keep it.”

“What about the honor in obeying his Calling?”

“Please, just stop.” She rolled away from me onto her side,
signaling I had pushed enough for the moment. Vee didn’t buckle easily, so I took the cue and backed off. She was afraid of getting hurt. I got that. People had been letting her down her whole life. But if she wanted this bad enough, she still had time to make it happen.

Changing tactics, I stood and walked around to sit on the other side of the bed. “Fine. You can make like Cinderella and disappear at the stroke of twelve. But until then, I’m acting as your FG.”

“FG?”

“Fairy Godmother.” I took Vee’s hands and gently pulled her up until we were eye to eye. “I’m going to make you all fancy, then you’re going to go to the ball and party like a rock star to ensure Jamie MacCrae regrets letting you go for the rest of his very long life.”

Vee chewed her lip as she thought over my proposal. “Okay. I’ll be your cinder girl, if you do something for me.”

“Shoot.”

“Pretend you’re not turning into a pumpkin at midnight.” When I started to protest, she cut me off. “Give Duncan a real chance. Let yourself be in love with him—just until we leave.”

Could I pretend to love him? Vee gave me a slight nod of encouragement and I read her thoughts as easily as if they were my own. Even if Duncan and I hadn’t shared a Calling, I was somewhat crazy about him. I didn’t need to pretend I had feelings.

If I didn’t make the most of our last night, I would most likely regret it for the rest of my life. Giving me the final push I needed, she extended her hand. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

We shook on it and then Vee clasped me in a bear hug. When she pulled back, her face was troubled. “I’ve got to tell you something else. Another reason why I can’t stay …”

She hesitated long enough to take one of her deep yoga breaths. “I don’t want to tell you, and I’d even convinced myself to keep it from you for your own good. But then I started to think about the situation being reversed and how I would feel in your shoes.”

“Whatever it is—just say it.”

Her grave eyes seemed far too old for her innocent face. “I know who the witch is.”

“What?” Blindsided by her confession, my mind swirled with questions. “Who? And when? I meant how? And why didn’t you—”

Vee held up her hand to stop my barrage and then paced away. “When I went to see the king, I had a vision … or something. The journal’s cursed. I wanted to tell you, but then the king died and all I could think about was getting it out of Doon. And—well—you saw how well that plan worked.”

Deliberately, I stepped into her path and blocked her ramble. “Who is it?”

“It’s Adelaide Dell—Addie, Dunbrae’s caretaker.”

I thought about the modern, stylish woman with her no-nonsense demeanor. “Addie’s the old hag who’s been after Doon for centuries?”

Her gaze narrowed and I could see her mind replaying events I couldn’t see. “I read that the witch who attacked Doon was named Adelaide Blackmore Cadell. But in my vision, it was Addie.”

“Do you think Ally knows?” I considered the sweet girl who’d shown us around Alloway.

“I don’t think so. That’s why she didn’t bring Ally with her when she came to the cottage. She acted … odd, remember? I’m certain she did something to your aunt’s journal and then planted it for us to find—”

“Manipulating us into crossing the bridge.” I didn’t doubt Vee for an instant, remembering the way Addie fawned over Gracie’s journal and calling my bestie a “clever” girl. She’d been the one to pack my aunt’s things away in the first place. “That witch played us!”

“Yep. And I carried the journal into the kingdom for her.” Vee squeezed her eyes shut in recrimination. “I’m responsible for everything that’s happening. If she destroys Doon, it’ll be my fault.”

Fiona’s words about the witch growing strong in Doon’s weakness filled me with dread. Could the journal tip the scales in her evil favor? I indicated the book sitting benignly on the nightstand. “We need to destroy that thing, now!”

“We can’t. I tried burning it, and when that didn’t work … well, you know what happened next.” She tucked the small book protectively to her chest and walked to the window. “As soon as the Brig o’ Doon opens for the Centennial, I’m taking the journal out. I’ve got to make things right.”

I slung my arm around her shoulder, careful not to touch the cursed journal. Although she abandoned me, she’d been trying to protect us. I would not let her carry this burden alone any longer. “
We
are going to make this right.”

For a moment, we stood in silence and contemplated the gorgeous view. The dazzling morning sun had eradicated the last icy reminders of the blizzard so that the idyllic countryside looked just like it had on our first day. Heather dotted the hills. Birds called back and forth. Doonians went about their lives. Ironically, it was as if the witch hadn’t nearly succeeded in bringing about the end of their existence. For most living beings in Doon, everything was exactly the same as before.

A
wise man once said love is a temporary madness. It was the temporary part I clung to like a life raft as I watched Jamie, strong and confident, go through the rituals that would make him a king.

He looked magnificent. His dress kilt, complete with formal jacket, was ornamented by his jeweled sword and the rich blue and green tartan of Clan MacCrae draped over his left shoulder—closest to his heart. I sat among the adoring masses, a silent participant while the emotions boiling through me threatened to erupt and rip the world in half. Was this the madness part?

The mirror told me I looked like a princess, with a burgundy fairy-tale gown and fantastical silver and garnet circlet woven into my hair as proof, but inside I was a quivering mess. I’d never felt more like a fraud. Everything inside me wanted to storm the stage and beg Jamie to ignore his destiny with Sofia. Beseech him to abandon his duty and run away with me, the king’s vision be damned! But in the end, I would remain seated with a smile pasted on my face, pretending to be in control—just as I’d done most of my life.

Placing his hand on the Bible, Jamie took the oaths that bound him to his kingdom. With every word he spoke, the chasm between us grew more insurmountable. His fate more tightly linked to the girl he would claim as his queen.

Unable to watch another moment, I glanced up at the stone columns and vaults arching over my head. Fiona had explained that the first king of Doon commissioned this chapel as a spiritual retreat for the royal family. Now it was only used for the most significant ceremonial occasions.

Next to me, Kenna’s soft sigh drew my attention away from the flawless architecture. I followed her stare toward the altar. Duncan mounted the steps two at a time and joined his brother with a squeeze on the shoulder and a heartening smile. As the clergyman announced the Oath of Fealty, Duncan solemnly lowered to one knee before Jamie and raised his right hand.

“I, Duncan Rhys Finnean MacCrae, promise on my faith that I will, now and always, remain loyal to my laird and king, my brother. Will never cause him harm and will, in all things, observe my homage to the kingdom o’ Doon. I pledge my devoted counsel in all situations and vow to protect the laird with my life, against all persons and in all circumstances in loyalty and without deceit.”

Every word of his commitment rang strong and true throughout the cathedral, his love for his kingdom and his brother clear to all. But it occurred to me that Duncan seemed to weigh his vow of protection above his declaration of honesty. Was withholding Gideon’s true whereabouts and the mysterious deaths of his soldiers a violation of loyalty? I couldn’t judge Duncan, because like me he must know the terrible secret he held would hurt more than it helped. We both had our reasons for keeping information from the new ruler of Doon.

Finished with his pledge, Duncan tipped his head and
kissed his sovereign’s ring. In a touching display of humility, Jamie clasped his brother’s hand and helped him to his feet, pulling him into a brief hug, their locked fists between them.

The haunting music of unseen bagpipes wove through the room as every citizen filed into the aisle, patiently waiting their turn to step in front of their new laird and repeat an abbreviated version of the oath Duncan had just confessed.

As the Rosetti sisters made their way toward to the platform, I watched Sofia, mesmerized by her glowing countenance and the dazzling sapphire gown trailing gracefully behind her. Her smile seemed brighter than the sun as she faced Jamie. With a sickening lurch in the pit of my belly, I watched them exchange a meaningful glance before she sank to her knees and made her pledge. I tore my gaze away from the touching scene and let my eyes wander over the crowd.

It seemed the Doonians were trying to ignore Kenna and me. Aside from a few nervous glances, they seemed determined to enjoy the festivities. I turned to ask Ken if she’d noticed their indifference when tingles skittered up my spine. Searching the room for the source of my discomfort, I spotted a middle-aged woman—tall, wafer thin, caramel-colored skin—staring at me. I recognized Roddie MacPhee’s wife from the marketplace.

Her mocha-colored eyes pleaded with me, silently begging me to do something to return her loved one. My throat tightened as she turned away. I didn’t understand exactly how the witch’s magic worked, but the disappearances were partly my fault for bringing the cursed book into the kingdom in the first place. I just prayed taking the journal across the bridge would restore the missing people to their families … unharmed.

The minister’s reverent voice shifted my attention away from Mrs. MacPhee and back to the ceremony. “The Completing affirmation shall now commence.”

The announcement echoed through the chapel, every word like a nail in my heart. My eyes darted to Sofia seated several rows in front of us with the rest of the Rosetti clan. Gabby, practically bouncing out of her seat with excitement, leaned over to whisper in her sister’s ear.

The ever-poised Sofia smiled indulgently and then whispered something back that caused the younger girl’s eyes to widen, an irrepressible grin lighting her up from within. Sofia glanced over her shoulder and scanned the crowd. When her eyes landed on me, she lifted her chin, a small smile sliding across her lovely lips. And I could almost read her thoughts: You may have had him for one night, but he’s mine for eternity.

“Nice,” I mumbled under my breath as I broke eye contact with the gloating queen-to-be. My spine crumbled and I slumped in my seat, focusing every ounce of energy I possessed on not falling apart. Jamie was supposed to be mine! For a brief second, I fantasized that I’d met him in Alloway that day I saw him on the street, and that he was an ordinary boy. He would’ve smiled at me and said hello, maybe inviting me to get a coffee.

The image popped like a soap bubble. Jamie was nothing close to ordinary and no amount of wishing would change him—not that I really wanted to.

“Did you say something?” Kenna asked belatedly, her eyes glued to Duncan as he took his place beside his brother.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, hoping she was preoccupied enough to let it drop.

A young steward walked up the center aisle carrying an elaborately carved wooden box. He ascended the stairs to the platform and set the box on a table to Jamie’s right. The chamber was silent enough to hear a pin drop.

The clergyman’s voice rang through the crowd. “Man is not meant ta be alone, nor in Doon shall he rule alone. James
Thomas Kellan MacCrae, have ye chosen a suitable partner that will help ye rule the kingdom in wisdom and in truth?”

“Aye,” Jamie answered with certainty, a tiny smile curving one side of his mouth—the smile I’d always imagined was just for me. My stomach clenched, bile clawing its way up my throat.

“Laird, please record yer selection for our future queen on this slip o’ parchment.” The vicar handed Jamie a feathered quill with one hand, while gesturing toward the table and the wooden box with the other.

What did he mean, “record yer selection?” All the muscles in my body stiffened.

“What the—?” Kenna exclaimed.

“Shhh.” I pressed my elbow into her side as she scooted out of my reach.

“Seriously, Vee, could they draw this out any more? Is he trying to torture you?”

I smiled gratefully at my friend—my sister—who voiced the words I felt but couldn’t let myself say. Coming clean with Kenna had not only lifted a huge weight from me, but also united us in a common cause.

Squeezing her hand, I lied for her sake. “I’ll be okay, Ken.”

After Jamie placed the folded paper into a cream-colored envelope, the steward pressed the hot wax seal onto the flap, closing it with a quick flourish. Applause filled the room as Jamie turned toward the crowd and executed a deep, graceful bow, a huge grin revealing the long dimple in his right cheek. “All will be revealed in due time, but ye must attend the ball this evening.” Cheers echoed through the room at Jamie’s teasing announcement.

“What an idiot!” Kenna muttered beside me. I knew she wanted me to agree, but I didn’t have any anger left. It didn’t matter anyway. The name he’d written on that slip of paper
wasn’t mine. A blessed numbness descended, buffering me like a cloak against a cold night. I just hoped this odd detachment would stick around long enough to get me through the ball and then over the bridge.

“We have one more order o’ business ta attend to, friends,” the clergyman said, obviously joyful while attempting to keep the ceremony on track. He indicated a rough slab of sandstone at the center of the altar. “Prince James, I ask that ye take a knee on the Liath Fàil.”

A reverent silence descended on the room as Jamie lowered to one knee, his golden head bowed. Analytically, I noticed the slight curl of his hair where it lay against the tan skin of his neck, the strength of his calf muscles defined beneath woolen hose, and the humble set of his broad shoulders as the simple gold and diamond circlet was placed on his head—it was like a page ripped out of a storybook.

“Rise, new laird of Doon, and take your rightful place before your people.”

Fluidly, Jamie stood to the responsive roar of the crowd as they shot to their feet while I remained frozen to my seat. Despite my newfound aloofness, a lump filled my throat, my volatile emotions threatening to pull me into the frenzied adoration surrounding me. The rustling of multicolored silks and plaid kilts encircled me, and I grasped for the protective cloak that was already slipping through my fingers.

Less than five hours. You can do this
.

Rising slowly, I joined the crowd, bringing my hands together in polite, respectful applause—just another person in the crowd, not someone whose heart and soul was, and always would be, irrevocably intertwined with the young King of Doon.