Doon (Doon Novel, A)

by Langdon, Lorie

  “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 guid
e 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—”

  “And yet ye know her as the witch o’ Doon.” His hard voice sliced through the chaos, quieting the building hysteria.

  “No. I mean—I didn’t—”

  “Silence! You’re a liar and I dinna want to hear another word.” Jamie snapped the journal shut in front of my face.

  “That’s not all, sire!” Gideon’s voice rang over the crowd, two octaves higher than normal. “The devil-haired one killed my men in Muir Lea and yer own brother locked me up to protect her.”

  Jamie’s gaze flicked dispassionately to Kenna and Duncan before returning to me. Looking into his stony face, I realized the prince I loved had been replaced by a cold, condemning king. “Fergus, escort Miss Welling and Miss Reid to the dungeon. Bind and gag them if ye have to. Take my lying brother with them.”

  Duncan stepped forward, “Jamie, I—”

  “Your king commands you to be silent!”

  Duncan’s whole body stiffened. Sure that he would protest his brother’s irrational behavior, I watched him expectantly. But the brash prince hung his head, his congenial face transformed by guilt as he allowed himself to be restrained and led away.

  Fergus faced me with an apologetic grimace, and I noticed he was holding my arm in his meaty hand. “Come, Miss Veronica.”

  “Please wait!” As he led me away, I dug in my heels and twisted back toward the dais. I had to at least try to get through to my Jamie. “You know I would never do anything to harm Doon or its people! You know me.”

  “Take the witches away.” Jamie’s emotionless words chilled my soul. His hollow stare passed right though me, as if I no longer mattered. Still holding the journal in his hands, he turned to Gideon. “I’m going to the chapel. See that I’m no’ disturbed.”

  Catching a glimpse of Kenna’s terrified face as a guard forced her out of the ballroom, her arms behind her back like some kind of criminal, I set my jaw in determination. I may not have a choice about going to the dungeon, but I wasn’t giving up that easily. Urgently, I whispered, “Fergus, let one of the other guards take me. Follow Jamie and get your hands on that journal. Then get it out of the kingdom, no matter what you have to do!”

  The giant’s steps slowed and he stared at me in bewilderment.

  “Fergus, if you’ve ever trusted me, trust me now. The journal is cursed. We have to get it out of Doon. That’s what I was trying to do when I caused the blizzard.”

  He stopped walking and stared at me for several seconds. His face hardened and I was sure he would refuse. But then he said, “Not sure why, but I’ve always believed in ye, and I’m not goin’ to stop now.”

  Tears of relief filled my eyes as he motioned for another guard.

  With Kenna and I locked in the dungeon and the bridge opening in less than two hours, Fergus could be our last chance to get the witch’s evil influence out of the kingdom. I hated to think about what would happen if he failed.

  Was it too much to ask for another miracle?

  CHAPTER 31

  Veronica

  The more I thought about his actions at the ball, the more convinced I became that something was wrong with Jamie. He was nothing if not logical, and yet he’d jumped to an unjustified conclusion in less than ten seconds. He’d just finished telling me how his mom had taught him to think with the right balance, yet neither his heart nor his head appeared to be in control.

  I paced the length of our cell struggling to maintain control and think rationally. I still had hope that Fergus would get the journal from Jamie and get it across the bridge. But just in case, I needed to come up with a plan B.

  The echo of footsteps in the corridor caused me to rush to the dungeon door. Fiona hurried toward us, but not fast enough for me. I pushed my face between the bars and called out, “Something’s not right.”

  Fiona stopped in front of me, remorse and a trace of my own panic in her eyes. “Something? Try everything. The Brig o’ Doon will be openin’ soon.”

  “No, I mean with Jamie.”

  “Aye.” Fiona’s soft lilt of reassurance was edged with doubt as she added, “Don’t ye fret, Veronica. Fergus will talk some sense inta him.”

  “Fergus has failed.” Fergus’s ragged voice reached us through the void, followed by a scuffle, a moan, and a soft thump. “I didna even get to see him.”

  Slumping against the bars, I grasped them for support as I banged my head against the metal. Behind me, Kenna stirred for the first time in over an hour. She’d been uncharacteristically despondent since the guards had locked us up, staring into space as if the slimy stone walls were the last thing she’d ever see.

  Fergus emitted a humorless chuckle and continued to address himself in the third person. “So now as second-highest commander of the royal guard, Fergus is committing treason.”

  The unmistakable click of the locking mechanism caused me to step back as the heavy iron door creaked open. Duncan rushed in and gathered Kenna into his arms. His disheveled hair stuck out at odd angles, and a purpling bruise darkened his right cheekbone.

  Kissing the top of her head, he asked, “Are ye all right, Mackenna?”

  Kenna buried her head in his chest, her words muted. “I know how it must look, but we’re innocent. We found out about the witch but we were trying to stop her. You have to believe m—”

  “Shhh.” Duncan smoothed her hair. “How many times are ye going to put me through this? Doncha think I know yer innocent?”

  “Uh, guys?” Their reunion was touching, but I didn’t have time for romance at the moment. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got to see him. Now.”

  With a great sigh, Fergus turned his doleful face toward me. “Jamie’ll not see you, lass. Ye’ll not make it past Gideon’s men any more than I did. They got the jump on me.” His black eye and swollen lip were evidence that he’d given it his best shot.

  “I’m not giving up.” There had to be another way. Stiffening my spine, I met each of my friend’s eyes in turn, landing on Kenna’s last. “I’ll go by myself if I have to.”

  Ken pulled out of Duncan’s arms. The hardening of her features echoed my own determination. “I’m coming with you.”

  Next to me, Fiona squared her shoulders. “Me too.”

  Already half a dozen shades of pink, Fergus emitted another grave chuckle. “Seeing how I’m already slated for the dungeon m’self, count me in. Where Fiona goes, I go.” They shared a quick smile that filled me with optimism. They were good people—and good always prevailed … didn’t it?

  I turned to the only one of us yet to speak. Other than me, Duncan had the most to lose. If he chose not to go against his sovereign’s orders, I wouldn’t blame him. “Duncan?”

  His dark-brown eyes, so like Jamie’s, turned and focused on my best friend. “Aye. I’m in.”

  We stepped from the cell into the corridor. To our
left, the dungeon guards sprawled lifelessly on the ground. As I stifled my reaction, Kenna gasped. “Are they dead?”

  Duncan shook his head “Nay. Just unconscious.”

  Of course, the scuffle and moan made sense now. They had to knock out the guards in order to rescue us. It wasn’t just Fergus who’d committed treason, but the king’s own brother. Unfortunately, I had a sinking feeling if we didn’t get to Jamie soon, facing treason charges would be the least of our worries.

  Following Duncan’s lead, we crept through the back passages until we arrived at the main corridor to the castle chapel unnoticed. At the entrance, Gideon barred our way, flanked by a half dozen guards. Although he stood at attention, tremors racked his emaciated body. His visible skin was a patchwork of flakes and sores. “No one is ta disturb the king.” His bluish lips twisted in a sneer aimed at Duncan. “Not even you, m’ laird.”

  Duncan squared his linebacker shoulders. “You’ve caused enough mischief for one night, Gideon. Stand down!”

  “I’m verra sorry, sire. I canna. I have my orders. And so do my men.”

  “Oh, fer Heaven’s sake!” Fergus reared back and delivered a knockout punch to Gideon’s nose.

  As the misguided guard crumpled to the ground, his men surged toward us. Half grabbed Fergus, who growled and lashed out, his fists and boots directed at his attackers. The others moved toward Duncan, who held them off with his sword. “Stand down, men! Your prince commands it!”

  Indecision, thick and palpable, charged the air, making the guards’ attack disorganized and sluggish. Duncan easily fought two guards at once, and projected his voice over the clang of their swords. “Graham, you know Gideon is not in his right mind. He’s obviously ill.”

  The guard I assumed was Graham glanced back at Gideon’s prone form and lowered his sword. His comrade continued to fight until Duncan lowered his weapon and pleaded, “Patrick, I’ve known ye since we were lads. I must speak to my brother. It’s a matter of life and death.”