by Carey Corp
Duncan closed his book and stood. “What did ye do to my brother?”
“What did I do? He did it to himself.” Vee released Jamie, who slumped into the chair his brother had just vacated. “I warned him about eating a second helping of churros.”
“They were delicious,” Jamie groaned. He attempted to straighten up, thought better of it, and doubled back over with his face in his hands. “Oufph.”
Duncan made a sound of reproach. “Jamie, what would the lads say if they could see ye caterwauling o’er a wee belly ache?”
“They’d know to eat churros in moderation,” he replied in a muffled voice.
Vee circled behind the poor Scotsman to rub his back. “Maybe we should get him some medicine.”
“We had a governess who used to give us castor oil and treacle,” Duncan stated, nudging Jamie’s leg with his knee. “How’s that sound, laddie?”
Jamie groaned again but managed to straighten up in his chair. “Try it and ye’ll live to regret it, little brother.” He reached behind to capture Vee’s arm and gently pull her to his side. “Verranica, go find yerself a bonnie dress for tomorrow night. I’ll just take a wee nap while I wait for ye here.”
Torn between the need to soothe her boyfriend and the allure of dress shopping, she hesitated. “If you’re sure you’re going to be okay?”
“Aye. ’Tis only a slight digestive concern.” He slouched back in his seat, extending his legs and crossing them at the ankles. “It’ll pass in no time.”
“Okay.” She bent and kissed his forehead before addressing Duncan. “If I take Kenna with me, do you think you can take care of him?”
“Aye.” Duncan’s eyes darted to his abandoned book, revealing the real reason he’d so readily agreed to babysit. He’d keep Jamie company if it meant he could get back to his dragon tales.
I stood as Duncan crossed to me and cupped my cheek with his rough hand. “Have fun, woman. And dinna worry about the time.” He gave me a peck on the lips before Vee slipped her hand in mine and pulled me away.
“I need to stop at a makeup counter too,” she said. Her eyes were already glowing with the prospect of a whole new look. The girl did love a good makeover. We both did.
After a dozen steps or so, she stopped dead in her tracks. “Kenna. I am not going anywhere with you if you keep that up.”
“Keep what up?”
“Humming ‘Popular’. It makes me feel like some social experiment.”
I hadn’t even realized I was humming, but I had definitely been getting my inner Galinda on in my head. I shrugged without feeling the slightest bit of remorse. “You know how the idea of a makeover sets me off. La laaaa, la laaaa. You’ll be pop —”
“Kenna!”
“Sorry.”
But I really wasn’t. This was my perfect moment: Duncan dreamily lost in a book, Jamie belly ache notwithstanding, being his charming, charismatic self, and me and Vee, underscored by the perfect Broadway show as we did our thing. The moment was so epic that even Indianapolis seemed like a Midwest equivalent of the Emerald City . . . and on this one short day, before returning to Doon, we would have a lifetime of fun.
CHAPTER 19
Veronica
The next day I had a now hangover. The fun of being in the moment had caught up to me with a vengeance. I sat curled on the leather sofa in our penthouse suite, cradling a cup of peppermint tea. Churros and double chocolate milkshakes, then cheeseburgers and fries for dinner followed by a Lord of the Rings movie marathon with popcorn, soda, and king-sized Reese’s Cups had been a blast. The best part: watching emotions play across Jamie’s face during the movies, and seeing him flinch and ghost the movements of the sword fights with his hands.
I’d finally had to confiscate the remote, after he’d hit the pause button five times during the first movie to explain why a particular attack sequence would never work. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the concept of fiction, the warrior in him just had a hard time suspending reality.
But today, after just a few hours of sleep, my head ached and I felt as energetic as a slug.
“We’re headed to the Windy City,” Kenna announced as she and Duncan paused by the door, both of them dressed in a punk chic mashup of leather and plaid. Was that a chain dangling from Duncan’s hip? I moved to my knees on the couch to get a better look.
“Make sure to ride the Navy Pier Ferris wheel,” I called. “I hear it’s especially fun on blustery days.” Kenna shot me a glare that could melt a polar ice cap, and I burst out laughing. The last time I’d made Kenna ride a Ferris wheel, it had been an autumn day much like this one, and she’d puked her guts out in six different languages. Heights were not her thing — at least not heights combined with swaying metal death traps.
“What’s so funny?” A sleep-mussed Jamie walked out of the room he shared with his brother. His eyes still heavy, he lifted the edge of his pale blue T-shirt and rubbed his washboard stomach.
My heart did a twirl in my chest. I jumped up and flew into his arms.
He wrapped an arm around my waist and held me to his side, then kissed my temple. “Good morn’, love.”
“Well, I guess tha’s our signal,” Duncan remarked.
“Have fun, you crazy kids.” Kenna grabbed her purse. “And give that Gucci-toting hag, Stephanie, my regards!”
The door clicked shut, and I nuzzled the warm spot where Jamie’s neck met his shoulder. Then I leaned back and gazed into his eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
“Nay. Stayin’ away from you for the last few hours was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” He tucked my hair behind my ear and then ran his fingers down my jawline. I shivered. “My dreams were haunted by visions o’ you disapperin’ again.”
He trailed kisses across my forehead and down to my cheekbone. I stood on my toes and tilted my head, biting my lip as his mouth fastened to the pulse throbbing in my neck.
And then there was a knock on the door.
“Saints,” Jamie growled. “Who is that at this blasted hour?”
“It’s after ten o’clock.” I disentangled my limbs from his. “I ordered strawberry pancakes!”
The thought of syrup and butter oozing over a fluffy stack of cakes had me jogging to the door. Incredibly, I was hungry again. Hair of the dog and all that.
We had our breakfast in a bay alcove with windows overlooking the city. But we didn’t pay much attention to the view. With no pending disaster hovering over us, no petitioners awaiting an audience, or royal advisors vying for my attention, we were free to focus on one another without distractions. So we talked about everything from our childhoods to the present, swapping stories until I’d laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
Jamie told me about the time he and Giancarlo Rosetti stole Sean MacNally’s horse and left it to wander in the bogs.
“No wonder he hates you!”
Not long ago, Sean had led a resistance against the crown that resulted in him kidnapping Kenna and me and forcing us to enter the witch’s evil limbus — which had been our plan anyway. Admittedly, he was a sandwich short of a picnic, because he’d also had Jamie restrained and then rammed his fist into his gut. Not the smartest thing to do to his future king. And as a result of his transgressions, Sean was a current resident of Castle MacCrae’s slimiest dungeon efficiency, complete with chamber pot and flea-infested mattress. Which, all things considered, was better than the traditional punishment for treason. Jamie and I’d had quite a row about that one.
Jamie chuckled, pulling me back to his story. “Nay, Sean hated me long before that. But he deserved more than a misplaced horse after what he did to Gabriella.”
I untucked my foot from under me and leaned forward at the mention of my eager lady-in-waiting. “What did he do? Sean’s several years older than Gabby, right?”
“Aye, by four years. But in Doon, children twelve years and older are instructed in the same classroom, and Gabby made the mistake of correctin’ Sean during a math lesson.”
Jamie shook his head. “In retaliation, he dumped a reeking bucket of manure on her head and told her if she rubbed it in hard enough it would melt away the wee freckles on her face. Her da had to submerge her repeatedly in an enormous vat of tomato sauce to get the stench out o’ her hair and skin. There was no pizza in Doon for a week!”
After our laughter died down, Jamie stared into his coffee thoughtfully. “Sean was always a lone wolf. Or he used to be . . .”
“What do you mean?”
Jamie glanced out the window. “When Duncan and I learned to hunt, our father told us to steer clear o’ the wolf pack. Tha’ without them the natural order o’ things in Doon would deteriorate. He also warned tha’, although physically smaller than bears, the wolves’ strength resided in their numbers, making them the top predators in the kingdom.”
He shifted his gaze to me, but his thoughts were nowhere near metropolitan Indiana. “One day, we were huntin’ wi’ Da and came across a wolf eatin’ a wee rabbit. It was the largest wolf I’d ever seen. Thick silver fur quivering, it lifted its head and barred massive teeth drippin’ wi’ blood. It growled so low, the sound echoed in the soles of my feet. But before I could turn and run, Da took it out wi’ a single arrow.”
“I thought he told you not to hunt the wolves?”
His eyes focused on my face, and a corner of his mouth quirked. “Tha’s exactly what I asked. My father said it was a lone wolf, one tha’ had separated from the pack. He told us lone wolves are desperate and weak, regardless of their appearance o’ strength.”
“I never thought of it like that before.”
“Nor had I.” Jamie took a slow sip of his coffee, then lowered his cup and cocked a brow. “Sean only became powerful wi’ a pack around him. Divest him o’ the men who had his back and he became nothin’ but a burbling grouse.”
As Jamie added two more pancakes to his plate, I mulled over his story. Something about it resonated, but before I could work it out, he began to ask me questions about my childhood. Now that he knew so much about my world, he seemed curious about everything. Like my favorite movies, when I’d learned to ride a bicycle, and who’d taken me to my first dance — which happened to be my ex-boyfriend and childhood friend, Eric.
I took a sip of my fourth cup of coffee. “You’ll meet Eric tonight at the fundraiser. He and Stephanie are engaged.” I lifted my fingers and made air quotes.
“Stephanie used to be your friend, eh?” Jamie set down his fork. “Now she’s betrothed to your ex-boyfriend?”
I nodded, and watched the wheels spinning behind his eyes. “Was he unfaithful to ye?”
“I . . . well . . .” I tucked my other leg underneath me. “Do you remember when you appeared to me the first time? I was sitting in my car crying and you held out your handkerchief?” That handkerchief had somehow stayed in my world when he’d disappeared, and then disintegrated in my hands. But at that point I’d thought he was nothing more than a hot Scottish figment of my imagination.
He nodded. “Aye. I longed to hold ye in my arms. Comfort you. But couldna reach ye.”
Going a little gooshy, I sighed as I reached across the table and linked our fingers, running my thumb across the prominent veins on the back of his hand. “That was the day I found out Eric was cheating on me with Steph.”
Jamie tensed, thunderclouds gathering on his face. “And ye say he’s goin’ to be at the ball this evening?”
“It’s not a ball, it’s a party. And I forbid you to punch anyone tonight. Do you hear me?” I gave his hand a hard squeeze and then let go. “I couldn’t care less about Eric and Steph. And you definitely don’t want to experience the modern justice system.”
He gave a noncommittal shrug, but when I arched my brows, he promised to keep his fists to himself.
Glancing at the clock, I pushed back my chair, the bacon and pancakes tangling in my gut. I could put it off no longer. “I need to . . . I need to make a call.”
Jamie’s sharp gaze latched onto my face. I swallowed hard. I couldn’t tell him what I was about to do. I couldn’t talk about it. I just had to do it. If I didn’t, I might never work the nerve up again.
“Of course.” He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and stood, ever the gentleman.
I twisted my hair up behind my head and tied it into a knot, pulling the strands so tight my eyes watered.
“Is everythin’ okay?”
“It’s fine.” I took a deep breath and rose to my feet. “Just something I’ve been putting off.”
He nodded. “I’ll be right here.”
On trembling legs, I made my way into the bedroom and shut the door. It took me three tries to dial the number correctly even though I’d had it memorized for days. Would he know my voice? It began to ring. Would he want to see me right away? I paced in front of the window. Was he here in Indianapolis? Five rings. I hadn’t thought of the possibility that he wouldn’t answer. Seven rings. If I left a message, what could I say?
“Yeah?”
The voice was groggy with sleep, but I knew it instantly. “Dad?”
Silence.
“It’s Veronica.”
“Huh?”
“Veronica, Dad.” My voice dwindled to a whisper. “Your . . . your daughter.”
More silence.
I clenched my eyes closed, trying to stop the hot tears from streaking down my cheeks as I pushed on. “Dad, I’m in town for a few days and I was . . . I was hoping we could get together.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I’m leaving the country and I don’t know when I’ll be back — if I’ll be back.” I hated the pleading tone that had entered my voice.
He sighed. “I’m not anyone’s father anymore.”
“But, Dad — ”
“I hope you have a happy life.” Did his voice catch? Or was I projecting my own emotions? “Good-bye, Vee-Vee.”
The line went dead.
“Dad!”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it as if his face would appear there. As if staring at it hard enough might rewind the past. Make him love me again.
My chest constricted, my throat aching with the effort to hold back sobs. He didn’t want me. It hadn’t been just Mom who drove him away. It had been me too.
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. The loss burned like a flesh wound exposed to the open air. I had to get away, find a way to close it again. I swiped my eyes dry, threw my sweater on over my pajamas, and slipped on my shoes.
Dashing out of the bedroom, I ran for the front door. But before I could open it, Jamie was there. He stood blocking my path. My escape.
“Move!” I pushed against his shoulders.
“Nay. You’re not disappearin’ on me again.” He widened his stance. “I canna let ye run away.”
“I want to be alone.” Like the strike of a match, my grief morphed into anger. I stood on my toes and got in his face. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way!”
He put his hands on both my shoulders, his dark gaze searching mine. “What is it, love? Let me help you.”
His comforting words reopened the flood gates and the sobs broke loose.
Jamie’s expression crumpled and he pulled me to his chest, wrapping me up in his arms. “You’re scarin’ me. Tell me what’s hurt ye.” I could feel his warm lips press to the top of my head.
“I . . . I . . . called . . . my . . . my dad.”
The hand Jamie’d been running down my hair stilled on my back. “What did he say?”
“He doesn’t want . . . want to . . . see me. Ever . . . ever again.”
His entire body stiffened, and then he squeezed me against his chest — like if he held on tight enough he could absorb my hurt. But a part of me recoiled from him. That rejected little girl that lived inside of me screamed that no man could be trusted. That Jamie could eventually leave me too.
I leaned back, swiped the tears off my cheeks, and looked into his eyes. “I have to go. I need to be alone.” I pulled out of his arms and
held up my hand to show him that I wore one of the rings. “I’ll be safe.”
“But ye canna — ”
“No, Jamie.” I snapped. “This is my world. I’ll be fine on my own.”
Hurt flashed across his features before he nodded and moved to the side, a muscle flexing in his jaw.
Without looking back, I slipped out the door with nothing more in mind than outrunning my grief.
CHAPTER 20
Mackenna
Duncan caressed her smooth curves, the look of absolute rapture on his face making me a bit regretful that I’d agreed to his crazy suggestion. “She’ll do,” he stated in that Scottish brogue that was half growl, half purr, and one hundred percent boy lust. “You’re a wee, bonnie lass. Aren’t ye?”
Refusing to go all jealous over a hunk of metal, I interjected, “Do you even know how to drive?”
“How hard could it be?” he asked with a crooked grin. On the short walk from the hotel to the car lot, Duncan had explained it’d been a desire of his since the first time I stuffed him into a horseless carriage to drive one. Since he was too young to rent, ID or not, Stevens had directed him to a lot that sold vintage sports cars.
“This is a stick shift.”
“Aye.” He had no idea what I meant but he was too far gone to care. With another gentle stroke across her hood, he announced, “I mean to have her.”
Duncan had immediately singled out a candy-apple red Corvette convertible for his intended. Although used, the car was in cherry condition according to the sales guy.
With a resigned chuckle I gave in. “Okay, Braveheart. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“This one,” Duncan cooed, his eyes never leaving the bright, shiny paint job.
The sales guy nodded. He wasn’t bothered that the boy in front of him was unequipped to handle such a complex piece of machinery. All he cared about was the driver’s license and the platinum card in the boy’s outstretched hand.
I, on the other hand, had all kinds of misgivings. “What are we going to do with it when we head back to Scotland?”
“I don’t know. Give ’er to Vee’s mum?”
