Doon (Doon Novel, A) (27 page)

S
inking my teeth into my third chocolate éclair, I tried to disregard the silence that swept through the room like a wave. The new king of Doon had arrived at the ball. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of staring and twittering behind my hands, like every other female in the room. Instead, I’d drown my sorrows with as much fancy French junk food as a girl of my small stature could consume without puking.

Raising a flute of champagne to the light, I watched tiny bits of strawberries bob in the iridescent bubbles. It tasted so delicious that I drained the entire glass, strawberries and all, in very short order. Blissfully, I popped the remainder of the éclair into my mouth, set the empty flute on a nearby table, and turned in search of more bubbly. Overflowing dessert plate in hand, I came face-to-face with the newly crowned king and his exquisite future queen.

“Oh, hi,” I said through a mouthful of pastry, so it sounded more like, “Ow, hho.”

Sofia gave me a sweet, sympathetic smile as if to say, “Poor, ill-mannered girl. I feel embarrassed for you.”

Jamie smirked, shaking his head. “I dinna think ye would take it so literally when I said this would be my first edict.” He waved his hand toward my overstuffed mouth.

With one gulp, I swallowed the lump of sugary goo that now tasted bitter on my tongue. Under different circumstances, his comment would’ve made me laugh—but not tonight. Since I was out of here at midnight anyway and had nothing to lose, I replied, “Appalling manners seem to be one of your special talents, your majesty. I was only trying to make you feel more comfortable.”

Sofia made a choking sound and covered her mouth with a delicate hand.

“I see,” Jamie remarked with an imperiously arched brow. “And what would some o’ my other special talents be, Miss Welling?”

Uncontrollable heat rushed up my neck at the implication in his words. No way was I letting him get away with embarrassing me, especially in front of the too-perfect Sofia. I tapped my index finger on my chin, pretending to think.

“Hmm … let’s see. Bossiness comes to mind.” I held up one finger and began counting off his faults. “Arrogance, extreme stubbornness, an ugly temper … Shall I go on?”

“Nay.” His eyes narrowed. “Sofia, would you please excuse us for a moment? I wouldna want to expose you to anymore o’ Miss Welling’s drunken accusations.”

“I. Am. Not. Drunk. You … conceited pig!” I didn’t think this was the kind of “fighting” Kenna had been talking about, but I’d never intended to follow her advice anyway.

“Och, lass, I could have ye thrown in the stockades for callin’ me that.”

I stepped toward him and glared up into his insolent face. “I’d like to see you try, your highness!”

Jamie stiffened his spine, taking full advantage of his height. “And I saw ye down a whole glass of champagne with my own eyes.”

We glared at each other for several seconds. Disconcerted by his unwavering stare, I broke eye contact. But then I was staring at his delectable mouth. Vivid memories of those scorching lips on mine sparked a flutter low in my stomach. Desperate to diffuse the tension building between us, I started babbling, “I wasn’t trying to get drunk, the champagne tasted good and … and I like strawberries,” I finished lamely, glancing away from him. “Now look what you’ve done. Sofia’s gone.”

“I asked her to leave. Unlike some people, she knows how to listen,” he snarled between clenched teeth, taking my plate and setting it on the table behind me.

“An important trait if she’s going to get along with you for the rest of her life,” I spat, just as I realized he was reaching for my hand.

“What’re you doing?” I asked, my muscles stiffening in rebellion.

“Dancing. I thought that was obvious.” With a show of teeth, he ordered, “Smile.”

Sweeping me into his arms, I could tell he was still angry, but clearly didn’t want everyone in the kingdom to know it. So I complied with a pasted-on smile as my body began moving effortlessly in time with his.

“I think you should know, my dance card is full, your eminence,” I said with undisguised sarcasm. Despite the glittering circlet on his head, I couldn’t think of him as a king. He was still the beautiful boy from my visions, who laughingly spoke
with his mouth full and kissed me with so much passion I felt it all the way to my toes.

“Dance card, eh?”

“Yes, as we speak you’re stealing me from some poor soul who asked for my first dance hours ago.”

Something dark flared in his eyes, his smile fading. “Let me see it.”

“See what?”

“Yer dance card.”

There was no dance card and we both knew it.

“I lost it?” I said, glancing up at him hopefully.

His loud laughter drew the attention of everyone around us. “Verranica, ye never cease to amaze me.”

Longing and sorrow swirled in my chest, threatening to erupt. I knew this was the end—the last moments I would spend with the boy I loved more than my own life. I tried to console myself with the fact that even if he did choose me, he’d leave me eventually, like every other man in my life. But the thought was petty and I knew it.

“Hey, where did ye go?” Jamie asked, squeezing my hand and trying to catch my eye.

Afraid to meet his gaze and reveal the ache burning inside me, I concentrated on the slope of his shoulder. “I’m still here.” For the moment, I thought, noting the late hour on the grandfather clock as we twirled past.

Two more hours, Veronica. You can do this
.

“Jamie, I’m glad you made the right decision.” I glanced at his face but he fixed me with a deeply penetrating stare, and I quickly refocused back to his shoulder. “About the Completing, I mean.”

“Vee, look at me.” He pressed the flat of his palm into the
curve of my lower back and electric sparks shot up my spine. “Please, love.”

Slowly, I lifted my head.

“My ma would’ve been so happy tonight,” he whispered, his whole face lighting up.

“Why?” Our feet had stilled until we stood swaying, our bodies pressed close.

“She was the one who groomed me, since I could walk, for the role of king. Teaching me to think with the right balance between head and heart.” A small smile tilted his lips and he touched his temple, then the left side of his chest with two fingers, before taking my hand again. “She also never let me forget that as a leader there is a price for every decision, not just for me but for others. That the right choice could sometimes contradict my own wishes or those of the people, but that a strong ruler will make the choice that is best for all.”

“I remember what you said on the cliffs. I get it Jamie—the price of being with me is too high.” My voice broke and I shook my head, his face blurry through the veil of my unshed tears.

“That’s no—”

“It’s okay.” I cut him off. I didn’t want to hear the words that would confirm I was the second choice of someone I loved—yet again. “You have to put the safety of your people first. It’s very noble—”

“Och, no,” he ground out with determination, his midnight eyes boring into mine. “If ye willna listen to me, then maybe you’ll listen to this.”

With those cryptic words, he pulled out of my arms and left the dance floor.

Couples twirled around me, my head spinning along with them as I tried to make sense of Jamie’s sudden desertion. Kenna waltzed by, spotted me, and stopped so suddenly that
Duncan tripped forward. She grabbed his arm to steady him and then without so much as an explanation, headed in my direction still clutching his sleeve. The poor guy appeared completely dumfounded as he stumbled along behind her.

Just as abruptly, the music came to an unceremonious halt. Jamie stepped up on the bandstand, followed by a young steward carrying the wooden box.

My heart began beating so hard it hurt. Had Jamie been trying to tell me he didn’t choose Sofia? I searched the faces gathered around the stage and found Sofia standing with her sister and a group of friends. She met my eyes across the room and smiled broadly. Was she gloating? Or was there a hint of relief in her grin? I couldn’t be sure.

Jamie cleared his throat and the crowd stilled in anticipation. “Thank you all for comin’ tonight to celebrate this momentous occasion.” Applause erupted, but Jamie raised his hand for silence.

“Never before in Doon’s history have a Coronation and the Centennial occurred on the same day. In an attempt to keep with the tradition o’ the Completing, I will declare my choice of bride this evening. So if she’ll consent to have me”—he quirked an adorable grin amidst laughter and shouts—“this ball will be the celebration of our new queen.” The audience erupted in approval.

He couldn’t mean me.

On the verge of hyperventilating, I began to back my way through the crowd. The old king had been right; the people would never accept an outsider suspected of witchcraft as their queen, especially if they learned I was responsible for bringing the witch’s evil into their land. Before I got far, Kenna squeezed my arm in a death grip. “Where are you going?” she hissed.

I met her eyes and shook my head in denial. Terrified to let myself hope.

“Vee, you need to hear this.” She didn’t let go of me as we both turned back to the stage.

Jamie took an ancient key from his jacket pocket and motioned for the steward to bring the box forward. Silence once again descended as he carefully removed the wax-sealed envelope from the box. “Shall I open it now?”

“Aye!” all of Doon cried in unison.

Pulling a small, jeweled knife from somewhere on his person, Jamie cut the wax seal.

“Sire! Wait!” The cry from the back of the crowd caused Jamie to stop and glance up. To my right, people parted like the Red Sea as a cadaverous Gideon pushed his way to the front. Fear caused the fancy pastries I’d consumed to claw their way back up my throat. I swallowed hard as Kenna squeezed my hand, a slight tremble running through her fingers to mine.

“M’ laird.” Gideon stopped at the edge of the platform to catch his breath. “I have proof!”

Jamie’s face darkened. “Proof o’ what, exactly?”

Duncan and Fergus closed in on either side of Gideon, Duncan’s hand on his sword. But before either of them could stop the captain of the guard, he cried out, “Witchery, kidnapping, and murder.”

The crowd’s reaction was sharp and immediate.

“Silence!” Jamie held up his hand. Although muted, the tension in the room felt palpable. “Gideon, now is no’ the time.”

“I found Roddie and the other missing villagers. I’ve left them in the infirmary,” Gideon said hastily as a collective gasp ripped through the room. “They were near death … bound and gagged near the witch’s cottage.”

Chaos erupted. Shouts of fear and demands for justice mingled with weeping. The people closest to us began to shrink away.

Jamie leaned over and whispered urgently to the steward, who sprinted out of the ballroom. I imagined he wanted to confirm that the missing individuals were safe as Gideon claimed. Fergus lifted two fingers to his mouth and a piercing whistle cut through the pandemonium, bringing all but a few to silence.

“Thank you, Fergus.” Jamie nodded his head to the big guard before continuing. “Now listen to me well, all of you. There is a time and place for these accusations. Gideon’s claims shall be heard but I willna be making any decisions without proper proof.”

“This book contains all the proof ye need, sire.” Gideon pushed a tiny weathered volume in Jamie’s direction.

He had found Aunt Gracie’s journal. Although I didn’t understand the full implications of the curse on the small book, I knew deep in my bones I had to stop Jamie from touching it. Blindly, I began pushing my way toward the stage.

I couldn’t move through the people fast enough. Jamie reached out to take the journal from Gideon’s outstretched hand.

“Wait!” I screamed and every head in the room swiveled in my direction. Startled, Jamie searched the crowd, his hand suspended in midair.

Reaching the edge of the dais, I caught his eye. “Don’t touch that!” His normally confident-yet-relaxed posture stiffened visibly as he glanced at the book still in Gideon’s extended hand. Slowly, he lowered his arm.

Thank God. “Jamie, I can explain everyth—”

“M’ laird, I found this evil tome hidden in the American girls’ suite.” Gideon pushed the book toward Jamie again.

Jamie glanced at me, his eyes masked. “Verranica, you’ll have your chance to explain.”

I reached up to intercept the book, but hands on my arms and shoulders restrained me. The air whooshed from my lungs
as I watched Jamie take the book and open the cover. When he didn’t collapse or show any sign of harm, I allowed myself to breathe again.

He leafed through the journal, stopping to study a particular page for several seconds in silence. When he glanced up, his soft voice carried across the room, his expression neutral. “Miss Welling, is this your book?”

“Yes,” I responded, feeling it was critical to be as honest as possible. “It’s Kenna’s Aunt Gracie’s journal. We brought it with us as a guide to the kingdom.”

“Indeed. And have you read it?”

On the surface, the journal was Aunt Gracie’s loving record of Doon—nothing more, so I didn’t think there was any harm in admitting to having read it. “Yes, I’ve read every page … several times,” I finished, my voice trembling.

He stared down at me with flat eyes. “How do ye explain this?”

A frown turned down the corners of his mouth as he held the book open for me to see. I gasped, along with a few others around me who could see the page in question. It was a sketch that I knew had not been there before … a portrait of the witch of Doon.

“Addie …” I whispered in stunned disbelief. What was going on? I’d memorized every word, every page in that book, and there had never been any reference to Addie, let alone a lifelike portrait. Gideon must have planted it.

“And how, pray tell, would ye know who she is?”

I noticed too late that there was no caption on the picture. I panicked, the words rushing out of me like nails hammered into my own coffin. “She’s the caretaker at Aunt Gracie’s cottage. I met her in Alloway. I’d known her for less than twenty-four hours when—”