Shades of Doon

by Carey Corp

  Jamie flashed the scientists a magnanimous smile. “Aside from the rings, anything you require is at your disposal.”

  Adam nodded as Oliver said, “Thank you. We’d like to examine the alleyway, as well as the bridge. Gather some samples, run some tests.”

  “Of course. I’ll personally see that our brightest pages and guards are reassigned to your detail.” He scribbled a couple of quick notes and gestured for Eòran, who I still thought of as Mutton Chops — but now in the most affectionate of terms. Mutton Chops shuffled back to the door, cracked it open, and passed the messages to the guard stationed on the outside.

  Fiona cleared her throat delicately, drawing everyone’s attention. “I’d like to examine the witch’s book o’ spells. Perhaps there’s somethin’ there that will help us make sense o’ this.”

  For the first time all afternoon, Gabriella Rosetti appeared unsettled. “Do you really think the Witch of Doon is behind this?”

  Sofia took her sister’s hand. “For everyone’s sake, I hope not. But we must examine every possibility. So I’ll help Fiona.”

  Emily chimed up next. “Ana and I will handle the rest of the library.”

  “Sure,” Analisa said drily. “Em and I are whiz bangs at research.”

  Gabby pursed her lips, looking anxiously from her sister to the others. She reminded me of the awkward sophomore girl desperately trying to hang with seniors. “What should I do?”

  I expected one of the girls to include her, but it was Giancarlo who spoke up. “You’re wonderful with people. I was thinking of conducting interviews, under the guise of writing a book about the history of the Destined. You are so good at putting others at ease, I would welcome your help.”

  Gabby’s gaze darted to Vee, who nodded her approval. Gabby sat straighter, seeming to glow with confidence now that she had a purpose. “Yes, of course I’ll help.”

  Duncan addressed Fergus. “For the time being, we should move Mackenna into the queen’s chambers and triple the guards.” Then he turned to his brother. “Anything to add?”

  After a moment of thought, Jamie replied, “If there are no objections, the other ladies can take turns staying the night with them.”

  Around the table, every female head bobbed. Gabby clapped her hands together rapturously while Sofia and Emily furiously scribbled notes. The latter murmured, “I’ll draw up a sleepover rotation.”

  Issuing a small huff, Vee turned to Prince Overprotective. “I like a good slumber party as much as the next girl — but don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard?”

  “Nay.” Jamie quirked his brow. “Unless ye’d rather have me as a slumber companion.”

  Blushing beet red, Vee dropped her face to her hand in mortification. To make matters worse, Duncan said with mock outrage, “Why does he get to sleep over? If Jamie’s stayin’ the night then I’m stayin’ too.”

  “And me,” Fergus interjected, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Where Fiona sleeps, so do I.”

  Making a rude noise that was uniquely Italian, Giancarlo demanded, “Why do you ragazzi get to have all the fun. Perché. I want to sleep over too.”

  “Knock it off, you lot.” Analisa barked. She glared at the testosterone-bearing members of the group as she declared in her clipped London accent, “The queen’s sleepovers are strictly girls only — no boys allowed.”

  Giancarlo Rosetti batted his inky lashes seductively. “Where is the fun in that, carina?” he teased, causing Analisa to chuckle in spite of herself.

  “Well then — ” Jamie stood and rolled his shoulders to get out the kinks. “With the queen’s permission, I think we’re ready to adjourn.”

  Before Vee could speak, I bounced to my feet with Duncan close behind. “Wait. What about Vee and me? What’s our job?”

  Jamie glanced from me to his royal girlfriend. Ever the gallant prince, he extended his hand and helped Vee stand up. “Your job is to be safe — after a little visit with Doc Benoir.”

  Taking the level headed approach, Vee cupped his stubble-covered jaw. “Jamie, I feel fine.”

  “Just a precaution, love.”

  Duncan wrapped his arms around my waist. His warm breath sent shivers down the sensitive skin of the side of my neck as he spoke. “You too, woman.”

  “Seriously!” I whined. “What did I ever do to you?” He raised his brows, and I immediately caved. “Fine.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured. “And if ye wouldna mind terribly, I’d like to hear more about your adventures in Chicago.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Veronica

  The arched wooden door of Jamie’s suite loomed in front of me as daunting as a miniature Mount Doom. I leaned against the stone wall at my back and pulled in a deep breath. It was time to come clean . . . again. Dizziness, headaches, muscle weakness, as well as heart palpitations, had haunted me for weeks, and I’d kept it to myself. But what happened to me in Alloway went beyond the usual, and I’d faced the fact that I may not survive another attack.

  Assuming I was even still in Doon come morning.

  A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach, and I pushed off the wall, putting one foot in front of the other. Jamie had invited me to have dinner with him in his chambers, which normally would have my pulse racing. I hadn’t been in the princes’ tower since we first arrived in Doon, and I’d never stepped foot inside Jamie’s room. Somehow seeing where he slept and spent his free time felt like a big deal — a glimpse into his complicated soul.

  I lifted a hand to knock, but the door whooshed open before my knuckles connected. Jamie filled the entrance, solid and strong, his honey-brown eyes crinkled at the corners. His lips followed suit and slid into a lazy grin, sweeping all other thoughts out of my mind.

  “Hi,” I managed to whisper, my knees going a little weak.

  “Welcome to my humble abode, love.” He swept his arm out in a shallow bow and opened the door wide.

  I didn’t know where to look first. Expecting something similar to Duncan’s suite, I was completely blown away by the contrast. Where Duncan’s sitting room was bright and open, Jamie’s was dark and enveloping. The only sources of light were a fire crackling in the hearth, a few scattered candles, and the gold-orange sunset peeking through floor-to-ceiling burgundy drapes.

  Overstuffed brown leather sofas and chairs were flanked by sturdy, rough-hewn tables that looked as if Jamie could’ve made them with his own hands. But what drew me in were the cherrywood shelves that covered almost every wall, overflowing with . . . stuff.

  I moved into the room and toward the bookcases, almost reverently. The first shelf at my eye level contained an eclectic assortment of items — an enormous conch shell, a six-inch miniature of the Eiffel Tower, a pair of battered Nikes, and a long, narrow horn with rustic-looking designs carved around the surface. I felt the magnetic awareness of Jamie coming up behind me as I reached out and ran a fingertip over the engraving. “What’s this?”

  “Tha’s one of my new favorites.” He reached around me and lifted it from the stand. I turned as he sucked in a deep breath and then put the smaller opening to his mouth and blew, causing a deep, droning sound to resonate through the room.

  I giggled as he lowered the horn.

  “’Tis a miniature Australian didgeridoo. The originals are over a meter long.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I bought it from Oliver.”

  “The inventor? He just got here.” I took the instrument, astonished how light it felt in my hands. “I’m surprised he would part with it.”

  Jamie waggled his tawny brows. “Didna ye know I’m filthy rich?”

  “And humble,” I teased as I placed the horn back in its stand. “Clearly, I’m fortunate to be in your presence.” I threw a smirk over my shoulder and then turned back to scan the wall of shelves brimming with items from all over the world. A Grecian urn depicting frozen figures in relief sat between a model of a Harley Davidson and a hand-painted Chinese dragon. I wandered over
to a tall wooden bow propped in the corner beside an animal-skin quiver full of feather-tipped arrows. I was reminded of the American Indian I’d seen fletching arrows my first day in the Doon marketplace and of my astonishment at the diversity here.

  I turned in a slow circle, unable to comprehend all the artifacts and what they might represent to the one who had collected them. It was the room of a world traveler who’d never left his own backyard.

  And it amazed and broke my heart in equal portions. “Jamie, this is . . .” I broke off, at a loss for what to say.

  I slumped against the back of a chair and he stepped close, his kilt brushing my knees.

  “Hey, why do ye look so sad?” He lifted my chin with a single finger and his dark eyes fastened to mine.

  “It’s just all this stuff . . .” I wasn’t sure how to continue without insulting him. “You’ll never get to see or do — ”

  He began to shake his head before I even finished. “Nay, this is no’ signifying all the places I wish I could go.” He swept his hand in a wide arch. “I feel like I’ve already been to each place or experience tha’ these items represent because o’ the detailed descriptions their original owners shared wi’ me. When I look at them, they remind me to respect all the nations embodied in our great kingdom. And what a delicate balance it takes to lead such a meldin’ of individuals.”

  I blinked up at him in awe. “Oh.”

  He cupped my elbow and guided me to my feet. I leaned into him as he brushed the hair off my shoulder, his warm caress lingering on my back.

  “Would I like to sail the Pacific or climb Mount Everest or ride a motorcycle?” He quirked a rakish grin and I could see him astride a Harley, the wind tossing his hair around his face. “Aye. But — ”

  “Everything has a price.” I quoted the lesson his mother had imparted to him and he’d shared with me. Since becoming queen, I’d lived this principle. It forced me to see both sides of every decision, and it made me a better ruler.

  “Yes.” His lids lowered to half-mast, his voice a warm caress. “And I have ever’ thing I need right here.”

  Not for long.

  The thought jumped into my head unbidden and the room gave a quick tilt. I took a step to the side and Jamie gripped my arms. “Vee?” His sharp gaze searched my face.

  “I’m fine. Just hungry.” I needed to tell him, but not yet. I wanted this dinner to be special. A memory we could both keep with us — whatever the future held.

  As if in answer to my need, a knock sounded on the door. Jamie led me to a small round table in front of the fire, where he pulled out my chair and called for the person to enter. Several people filed into the room; two liveried waiters carried trays of sumptuous-smelling covered dishes, followed by Eòran, and then Blaz at his heels.

  My dog bounded toward me, his long, pink tongue lolling out of his head. I braced myself as he jumped half into my lap, getting in a slobbery lick before Eòran pulled him back.

  “He missed ye, yer Majesty,” my guard rumbled. “Was mopin’ about the kitchen. Wouldna eat a morsel.”

  As the staff arranged our meal and lit the candles on the table, I fought through a wave of dizziness and leaned into Blaz, hugging his bristly neck and nuzzling his face. “Did you miss me, you big baby?” He gave a soft whimper in answer and laid his heavy head on my shoulder. When he seemed satisfied that he’d regained his rightful place in my heart, he pulled back and cocked his head. His liquid eyes stared solemnly into mine and his paw tapped my knee, giving a low whine as if he knew something was off. I’d heard that dogs could sense illness in their owners, but I hadn’t believed it until that moment. His intelligent gaze locked on mine, he patted my knee several times. “It’s okay, boy,” I whispered. “I’ll be fine. Go lay down.”

  “M’Laird, Chef Mags instructed us to stay and serve the meal,” I overheard one of the waiters say.

  “Thank you. That willna be necessary. But give Mags our regards,” Jamie replied.

  “Yes, sir,” the waiters answered in tandem before filing out of the room.

  Blaz, after giving me one last lick, hopped down and headed to the hearthrug where he turned in half a dozen circles before curling up for a nap. Jamie held the door open, brows arched expectantly. I followed his gaze to Eòran whose hands were clasped behind him as he perused the items on a nearby shelf. Jamie and I exchanged an amused look before he cleared his throat. The guard didn’t turn.

  Unfolding a napkin and placing it in my lap, I asked, “Was there something else, Eòran?”

  He meandered over to the windows, his limp barely noticeable, and tested each latch. Unless Addie sent flying monkeys after me, I didn’t see how the windows at the top of a castle tower could possibly be a safety issue.

  “I just thought ye might need some . . .” He wandered the perimeter of the room, then paused and poked his head into the open door of Jamie’s bedroom. “Extra security.” My guard turned, spread his legs wide, and crossed his arms, settling in directly in front of the doorway.

  My hand flew to my mouth as I tried to hide a giggle. The sweet man wanted to protect me . . . from Jamie. But when my gaze wandered to where my prince stood rigid by the door, his expression growing darker by the second, the laughter died in my throat. Clearly, he was insulted by Eòran’s lack of confidence. But I was touched. The guard didn’t know Jamie like I did. Didn’t know that honor and integrity ruled his every action. Didn’t understand that he was harder on himself than anyone else could be.

  Shooting Jamie a “down boy” look, I rose and walked over to where Eòran stood. “You don’t need to worry. I’m one hundred percent safe with him.”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at ye, lass,” Eòran replied under his breath, his hazel eyes latching on mine. “I’m not so old that I dinna know what that means.”

  I placed my hand lightly on his forearm. “Eòran, Jamie would never hurt me.”

  He started to interrupt, but I talked over him. “Or take advantage of me.” I squeezed his arm and stepped back, offering a smile. “You need to trust us.”

  Lines tightened around his mouth and his shoulders slumped. “’Tis just . . . yer father isna here, and I feel responsible for ye.”

  My heart did a funny little skip. “I . . . thank you,” I managed to force out over the lump in my throat.

  He uncrossed his arms and leaned in as if he might hug me, but then turned on his heel and marched across the room. He paused at the door.

  “Eòran, I vow to respect her above myself.” Jamie’s tone sounded strained, his eyes intense.

  My guard gave a terse nod. “Make that far above, lad.” And then he was gone.

  Jamie closed the door, and blew out a loud breath before turning to me. “Shall we?”

  I made my way back to the cozy, candlelit table. The savory scents of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread made my mouth water, but then my stomach clenched in rebellion. My famously insatiable appetite had been missing for weeks. Since my illness, I’d been so used to covering up how I truly felt, the lie slipped out easily. “Yes, I’m starving!”

  I sat and spread the napkin across my lap again, focusing on smoothing out every last wrinkle. I couldn’t even meet Jamie’s eyes — how was I going to tell him the truth?

  He leaned over the table and whisked the metal dome from my plate. “Coq au vin,” Jamie pronounced in a perfect French accent. “Mag’s specialty.”

  The dish looked sumptuous. Golden-brown chicken and mushrooms smothered in a burgundy wine sauce, herb-smashed potatoes, and a miniature rosemary tart on the side. Something thick and bitter coated my throat. I swallowed hard.

  Jamie poured us each a glass of chilled cider and then sat and said a blessing over the food. While I prayed for strength and for the words to say what needed to be said.

  After saying amen, Jamie dug in, and I took my time slathering butter on a warm slice of bread. I’d managed to choke down a few bites of food when I noticed Jamie’s plate was empty. I laughed despite myself
. “Hungry?”

  His eyes sparkled across the table as he shoved another hunk of bread into his mouth and said around it, “Perhaps a wee bit.”

  Reminded of our first “date” at Muir Lea, I teased, “We never did pass that edict, but that doesn’t seem to stop you from talking with your mouth full.”

  A wide grin coaxed out the long dimples in his cheeks.

  As I watched the perfect boy who had been chosen for me, and I for him, my heart drummed an accelerating cadence in my chest. Like the timer on a bomb counting down. My thoughts must have shown on my face, because Jamie’s smile faded and his eyes drilled to mine.

  I shot to my feet, not caring that my chair crashed to the floor behind me, and rushed around the table. Jamie scooted back, but before he could rise, I sat on his lap and threw my arms around his neck. Digging my fingers into his hair, I lost myself in his eyes, memorizing the exact shade of rich brown, and the splash of gold around the pupil. He blinked thick, dark lashes. “Vee?”

  I refused to waste a moment of whatever time we had left.

  Drinking his warm breath, I lowered my mouth to his and kissed his top lip softly. His chest expanded, and I could feel his heart rate accelerate as I moved to his bottom lip. Cupping his stubble-covered cheeks, I angled my head and pressed our mouths flush, tasting salty-sweet butter on his lips.

  One hand was flat against my lower back, his other tangled in my hair. Heat licked through me, uncurling in my belly as he kissed me with a desperation that mirrored my own. My hands ran over his neck, his arms, his muscled chest, before coming to rest against the bare skin of his neck. His skin felt impossibly warm, the vibration of his pulse thumping in rhythm with my own.

  Drawing a ragged breath, he moved to the sensitive skin below my jaw. I tilted my head to give him better access and shrugged off the suddenly itchy material of my cardigan. His large fingers locked around my upper arms, pulling me closer. His mouth drifted lower on my throat, igniting my skin.