by Carey Corp
Fiona shrugged. “Once or twice. But the last time was weeks ago, so we thought the worst was over.”
“And not some random girl’s name.” Vee paused to look at me apologetically. “Just yours.”
“Mackenna!”
“My brother’s an idiot,” Jamie grumbled to himself before addressing Vee. “I’ll go talk some sense inta him.”
“No. I should go.” I hurried to beat Jamie to the door, but my best friend stepped in my path.
Vee’s large eyes shone with pity. “I don’t think that’s the best idea. Why don’t you let Jamie — ”
“But he’s not asking for Jamie, is he? This is my mess to fix — I’ll go.”
As I passed Jamie, he grabbed my arm. “Is that what my brother is to you, a mess? This is all your doing, ye know. He’s not the same boy you abandoned on the bridge. Have ye not figured that out yet?”
“Jamie!”
Vee’s reprimand briefly redirected his anger toward her. “Well, ’tis the truth, and someone should tell it to her.” And then back to me. “You broke his heart.”
“I know.”
It was all I could think of to say. Ever since I’d experienced my first Calling delusion with Duncan in Chicago, a million thoughts had run through my head, from excuses to apologies. But in that moment words failed to convey the depths of my regret. So rather than answer, I stared at Jamie MacCrae’s hand until he let go. Then I strode out the door to face my music.
CHAPTER 20
Mackenna
I descended the stairs with my heart thrumming in my ears. My chest felt like it had been trampled by giants. As I stepped into the courtyard to face the consequence of my actions, the full weight of my guilt settled in an ache above my eyes.
Duncan stood with his back to me in the middle of the torch-lit courtyard. As I approached he flung his arms wide and bellowed my name to the heavens. Swaying ever so slightly, he continued to face the stars, waiting for answers. Finally, he dropped his head in resignation and my heart could take no more.
“I’m here.”
He spun around, his torso moving more loosely and quickly than his legs so that he had to stagger to remain upright. After pausing for a moment to ensure his balance would hold, he blinked at me as if he didn’t trust his own eyes. “’Tis really you?”
“In the flesh.”
“An’ what beautiful flesh it is.” He lurched toward me, and I rushed forward to intercept him before he fell down. His large hands pawed at my face while I struggled to get his arm around my shoulder for support. “You came back. I never stopped looking for ye.”
“I’m here.” There was no way I’d be able to keep him upright if he stumbled again. In the absence of benches, I pointed to the wide steps leading to the formal entrance of Castle MacCrae. “How about we go sit on the steps over there?”
“Aye.” Duncan staggered across the courtyard, his momentum propelling me along with him. A foot from our destination, we went sprawling. One moment I was careering toward the stone steps, the next I was lying on top of the prince of my dreams in a tangle of arms and legs.
For a moment we stared at one another in surprise. Pressed against his chest, I could feel his heart beating out an adrenaline-fueled rhythm that matched mine. It was like that moment in a movie where the action morphs into slow motion.
Duncan lifted his head, his perfect lips parting in a silent invitation. Without consciously deciding what to do next, my mouth answered. The moment our lips touched the universe unraveled and re-formed so that it revolved around our kiss. Nothing else existed or mattered.
Gradually, my consciousness extended outward — his tongue moving in counter-rhythm to mine; his hands reacquainting themselves with the contours of my back and neck; to the small noise he made as he pulled me closer.
His mouth tasted sharp yet spicy, like ale and desperation. Clasping me in an impossibly tight bear hug, Duncan wrapped his solid legs around mine and rolled us in unison so that I was trapped beneath him. The freezing stairs dug into my back as he crushed me in a good way. His mouth moved to blanket my neck in sloppy, reckless kisses. He was drunk and I craved his touch — but how far would I let this go?
If the tables were turned, Duncan would never take advantage of me. He was not that kind of person. He was honorable and loyal and — suddenly this felt all wrong. I wanted him back, but not this way.
I couldn’t help but feel in the sober light of day, this would be one more mistake to pile onto our long list of regrets.
“Stop.” Lightly shoving, I pushed Duncan back enough to get his attention. His face darkened like he was waking from a dream — make that a nightmare, because he stared at me clearly horrified by his actions.
In one swift action, he rolled away. His momentum sent him crashing in the opposite direction and his shoulder smacked against the stone step. With a groan, he gingerly pulled himself to a sitting position and dropped his head into his hands.
“I’m so sorry, Mackenna,” he moaned. “You have a boyfriend. Wretched, odious Wallace.”
“Weston.” I said numbly. Now that we’d separated, the night felt bitterly cold. My thin maxi dress, which was perfect for hours of dancing, offered no protection from the elements. “He lied. He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Have ye told that to him? He wanted you, Mackenna.” Still leaning over his knees, his arm flew at me in a reckless gesture of emphasis. “I can tell when a lad fancies a lass.”
Since we were getting to the truth of our relationships, I hesitantly asked, “The same way you fancy Analisa?”
His head bobbed in his hands. “Ana and I meet in secret. I tell her things I canna tell you.”
The alcohol hindered his discretion; he wasn’t intentionally trying to wound me. But his confession still hurt like crazy. “What kind of things?”
Angling his face to look at me, he said gravely, “I caused the limbus.”
“What? How — ”
“Over you. I wished for you ta come to Doon. I asked the Protector to bring you back to me. And I kept begging him for you, even after it was clear we weren’t meant to be together.”
He straightened up so that once again I could see only his shadowy profile. “Back in the barn, after I saved you — you said in some cultures we’d be bound for life. But the truth is we were bound long before that. I am bound to you . . . and I canna ever be free, even if I wished it with all my might. And now my kingdom suffers for my weakness.”
Despite his mixed signals, Duncan wished to be rid of me. Although I had suspected as much, to hear him confess it was more than I could endure. An invisible vise gripped my chest, making it difficult to breathe. My eyes started to sting. I wanted to run away, but I felt I had a responsibility to ease the mind of the guilt-ridden boy next to me.
Angling my body toward his until our knees brushed, I said, “The limbus isn’t your fault. Things will look better in the morning. I promise.”
He lurched toward me, bracing his hand on my shoulder to stop himself just before we collided. “You promise? You, Mackenna Reid, break your promises — just like you break hearts.” His smooth, velvet brown eyes searched my face. “Why did ye leave me?”
Unable to bear his scrutiny a moment longer, I focused on the lights of the village in the distance. “Remember how when you saw me perform in Chicago you knew I belonged there?”
“Aye.” He rested his head on my shoulder and snuggled close.
“You belong in Doon. This is where you’re supposed to be — helping villagers mend fences and repair barns and watching out for your brother. You love Doon.”
“Tha’ I do.”
“My turn,” I said, savoring the feel of Duncan’s face burrowed into my neck. “How come you didn’t tell me you were Finn?”
After a weighty pause, his breath hitched as he let out a soft snore. Disappointment burned in my chest. I reclined against the stairs with Duncan curled against my side, sound asleep. Staring at the predawn light washing away t
he stars, I tried not to wonder how much of Duncan’s conversation had been the ale talking . . . And how much had been the truth.
One-hundred and seventeen steps — I paused at the top of the tower to knock on the heavy wooden door before letting myself in. Since my return to Doon, this was the first occasion I’d had to visit Duncan in his chambers. Afternoon sunlight cut through his floor-to-ceiling window, reminding me how much his rooms felt like home. Whenever I imagined living in Doon, this was the place I pictured inhabiting.
Duncan came from the bedroom, barefoot but otherwise dressed. In one hand he held a pair of riding boots. His other hand was pressed to his temple, shielding his squinting eyes from the light. Considering that I’d only recently crawled from bed myself — and I’d gone to sleep somberly sober — I was impressed he was even up. He had to be harboring one doozy of a hangover.
When he saw it was I who’d knocked, he frowned. “What are ye doing here?”
I shrugged, suddenly unsure of the wisdom of my decision. “Checking on you.”
Although I knew it would be better to keep a deliberate distance, like a self-imposed restraining order, something in my heart needed reassurance that he was — or would be — okay.
Duncan sat down in one of the high-backed chairs with a wince. “Jamie already beat you to it. He stood over my bed ringing a bloody cow bell.”
“Oh!”
He moaned in agreement. “Apparently, I got quite inebriated last night. It took four o’ my brother’s men to carry me up to my chambers.”
I remembered. Shortly after Duncan fell asleep, Jamie appeared with four big Scotsmen. Under Jamie’s direction, they hoisted the passed-out prince off of me. With no more than a good night, they headed in one direction while I slunk off the other way. “What do you remember?”
“Having pints at Rosetti’s Tavern and then nothing . . . until the cow bell. According to Jamie, I was passed out in the courtyard, and that’s where he and his men came upon me.”
“That’s it?”
“Aye.” He began pulling on his boots. “Did you hear any different?”
“Just that you were feeling a little melancholy.” I pulled a wrapped present from my pocket.
He paused briefly. “Heard . . . or did we happen to run inta each other last night? If we did, you shouldna heed anything I might’ve said, as I didn’t mean it.”
My instincts told me otherwise. I believed his confession on those cold stone steps. Duncan still resented me for breaking his heart and not allowing him to move on. He was still bound to the selfish shrew who’d ruined his life — which sucked for him.
While there were parts about the previous night I was glad he couldn’t recall — like our make-out session — I was bummed he wouldn’t remember what I said about Weston. No matter how many times I tried to set the record straight about me and Wes, the universe seemed determined to get in the way.
He returned to his boots with a grunt. “I don’t condone drunkenness. I’m mightily sorry for whatever grief I might’ve caused due to my lack of judgment.”
As he straightened up, I asked, “Where are you going?”
He stood and walked around me to retrieve his duffel bag. “There’s been a development with the limbus. One o’ the outlying farms has been swallowed up. It should’ve been evacuated, but we canna find the farmer or his wife.”
“Oh.”
Nodding to the gift, he asked, “What’s that?”
“Nothing. I mean, just a little something . . . to cheer you up.” He extended his hand and I placed the present in his palm, careful to avoid direct contact. “You can open it when you return.”
He flipped it over in his hands. “I’ve a moment now.” Edging open the waxed paper, he stared at the dried starfish inside.
“So you could keep a little piece of the tidal pool with you,” I explained. “I named her Maureen II.”
Duncan favored me with a pained smile that made his eyes glisten. “Maureen means ‘star of the sea.’ It was my ma’s name.”
A lump lodged in my throat, making it difficult to do more than nod. I watched as Duncan crossed to his bookshelf and placed Maureen II next to his prized first editions of Shakespeare and Dickens. Then he returned to capture my hand. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Never breaking eye contact, he bent over my hand and raised it to his mouth. The minute his lips touched my skin, his eyelids closed. Waves of heat radiated from his kiss to warm my whole body. After what seemed like an eternity, he let go with a sigh.
Now or never, Kenna. Butterflies started an impromptu kick line in my stomach as I cleared my throat. Duncan’s eyes opened to regard me curiously as I sputtered, “I — uh, I never apologized for, you know, leaving you on the bridge. I’m sorry.”
His body stiffened, and the emotion drained from his face until it was a stony mask. With cool detachment, he replied, “I know you are.”
He grabbed his leather saddle bag. “Thank you again for the present. I’m late. Please forgive me for taking my leave. I trust ye can show yourself out.” Then he was gone.
I stood in the entryway, listening to his footsteps on the stairs until the world fell silent. As I crossed to the door, a painting on the wall drew my attention. I remembered the oil color which I’d christened “Landscape with Bovine” from my very first trip to Duncan’s rooms. I’d dismissed the pastoral scene as boring. What I’d failed to comprehend before now leapt out at me.
Behind the grazing cows and off to one side, a giant beanstalk ascended into the clouds. In the top corner, nearly off the canvas, was a pair of legs in mid-climb. This deceptively peaceful picture hinted at the difference between a cow and a bean for those who had eyes to see. And clearly I hadn’t. It was too late to embrace an adventure with a handsome prince in a secret kingdom. I’d wasted my chance. The best thing I could do for Duncan now would be to save Doon, and then return to my boring, cow-filled world with as little collateral damage as possible.
CHAPTER 21
Mackenna
After the encounter with Duncan, I wandered aimlessly through the royal gardens. Eventually, I ended up under the wide stone arch. Although I hadn’t consciously directed my footsteps, I realized it had been my destination all the same.
This was the site of our epic make-out session during my last visit. It was here where my heart had admitted what my head obstinately denied — that I was in love with a prince from a different world. Under this very arch, I’d voiced my concerns about staying.
“What if you experience a Calling? Then I’d be stuck here — ”
“Shhh.” Duncan’s fingertip had brushed my lips. “If you stay, I’ll give you my heart and never ask for it back.”
I shook my head to clear the ghosts.
Duncan obviously remembered our childhood connection — little allusions he’d made during our previous time together made perfect sense now. With a simple confession, he could have rewritten our history. Why hadn’t he told me the truth before it was too late?
A sob hitched in my throat. I didn’t even realize I was crying until my hand came away from my face wet. Using my sleeve like a tissue, I blotted my leaky eyes.
For Duncan and me, there was no going back to before — I understood that now. Last night he’d confessed that we weren’t meant to be together. Despite the twisted past that entangled us, he was trying to move on with Ana. The sooner I got out of his way, the better.
“There you are.” Vee’s voice preceded her down the path. I took one last swipe at my eyes and then turned around to face her with a soggy smile.
She pulled up short and inspected me with a critical eye. “Uh-oh. What’s going on?”
I dug right down to the bottom of my soul . . . and stuffed my messy emotions away. “Nothing.”
Closing the distance between us, she said conversationally, “I’m the queen, you know. One word and I can have whoever made you cry thrown in the stockade.”
That would go over well — having her boyfriend�
��s brother arrested. Besides, I was the one in the wrong. Even though Duncan had withheld critical information about our past, I hadn’t remembered him — among other transgressions. “Does Doon even have stockades?”
She shrugged. “I’ll have some built.”
In silent agreement, we started strolling away from the arch toward the lake. After a couple dozen unhurried steps, Vee asked, “So is this about Duncan?”
“Like you didn’t know that already?”
“I don’t know the specifics. What happened?”
Rather than give her a straight answer, I shrugged off the question. “Nothing worth talking about. Are you ready to search the catacombs?”
She raised an eyebrow to indicate she’d caught my change of subject. “Jamie asked me not to go without a guide.”
“What?” I stopped in my tracks, which prompted her to turn and face me. “You told him?”
“Chill!” She backtracked a couple of steps as she spoke so that she could keep her voice low. “I didn’t tell him about the cottage or the books. Just that the tunnels under the castle were the one place we hadn’t looked for answers.”
“And?”
“And he agreed that it was a good idea. But apparently the catacombs are like a labyrinth, miles of tunnels and full of dead ends. They were created as secret passages for warfare. But since the Miracle, hardly anyone even goes down there.”
Great. We needed to find a needle of an axe in a dusty, old abandoned maze of a haystack probably riddled with rats and spiders. Just let me write that on my bucket list — right below destroying the limbus and putting an alternate dimension between me and Duncan.
“He promised we’d figure it out as soon as he got back.”
For a moment, I forgot what we were talking about. “Figure what out?”
“The catacombs . . . What did you think we were talking about?”
Vee squinted at me — not her usual I’m peering into your mind squint but full on nearsighted old lady mistaking a rabid rodent for a Chihuahua. The pinched expression was an unfamiliar one.
