by Carey Corp
“Nay.”
I nodded and took a step back, giving her permission to let him have it with both barrels.
“Pleeeeeease?” That particular whine had gotten us more than our fair share of candy before dinner back in the day. It chaffed like sandpaper on a sunburn. “I reeeeeally need to speak to Fergus. It’s a matter of life or death. Pleeeeaseeeee?”
From farther down the corridor I heard heavy, measured footsteps moving in our direction and then stop. “I’m here, lasses.”
Kenna tipped me a satisfied nod and stepped back mouthing, “The talent.”
Pressing my face against the bars, I asked, “Is that you, Fergus?”
“Who else would I be?” For a second I thought I’d offended him. Then his quiet laugh eased my concern. “What kin I do for ye?”
“We didn’t just appear out of nowhere—we were led here by Kenna’s aunt, Grace Lockhart.”
“The red-haired lass is Grace Lockhart’s niece?”
“Yes.” From some distance away, I heard commotion followed by the unmistakable voice of Gideon.
Fergus whispered urgently, “Have faith, lass. A higher purpose is at work here, and ye are not without allies.” Then our only hope moved out of sight.
I locked eyes with Kenna, and she gestured to the journal. “Put that back in your pocket.” She was right. We’d already lost the rings; if they confiscated the journal, we’d be screwed.
The gate at the end of the cellblock creaked as multiple sets of footsteps drew closer. Our door swung open and Gideon barged in flanked by several stone-faced guards. Each man had a weapon belted above his kilt. “The MacCrae wishes ta see ye. Come wi’ me, witches. And take care ta hold yer tongues.”
I could only hope the MacCrae would listen to reason, or at least allow me to speak to Jamie.
We wound our way up narrow, torch-lit stairs that seemed to go on for a mile. I swallowed compulsively, trying to force moisture into my parched throat, but only succeeded in upsetting my already-churning stomach.
At the top of the stairs, Kenna and I followed Fergus’s hulk-like form down a dim corridor, Gideon’s overbearing presence our ever-present shadow. We entered a circular room smelling of stale wood-smoke and dust. Sun streamed through a bank of diamond-paned windows, causing me to blink like a rat coming up from the sewer and almost slam into Fergus as he stopped.
After returning Kenna’s wobbly smile, I let my gaze wander. Two guards stood on either side of the circular space, hands locked behind their backs, the dark brown of their leather vests blending with the rectangles of wood paneling that covered the walls. An unlit candelabra hung on a long chain, almost brushing Fergus’s pale hair. I tilted my head back, following the gilded chain of the chandelier to an oak-paneled ceiling carved into geometric sections that when viewed as a whole resembled a blooming flower. If I hadn’t been shaking in my Nikes, I would’ve been impressed.
An unnatural hush fell over the room, and all the guards pivoted to face forward. Since I couldn’t see around the giant wall of Fergus, I assumed the MacCrae had arrived.
“Where are the lasses?” asked a deep, melodic voice.
I knew that voice.
Fergus stepped aside to reveal the boy of my dreams sitting on a throne-like chair. A jewel-encrusted circlet rested atop his blond head, but something more than the crown held the room in thrall. Despite his casual posture, he radiated a natural authority, as if he’d been born to command men. His somber regard moved from Fergus, down to me, and stopped.
Slowly, he rose to his feet. All the sounds in the room faded away as our gazes caught and held. Something like hunger filled his dark eyes as they roamed over my face to my lips and back up again.
My heart beat so hard, I feared everyone in the room would hear it. Longing exploded across my body and I stepped toward him, lifting my hand. I’d been waiting for this moment—
His whole body stiffened and he scowled at my outstretched hand. I could almost feel the cold radiating from him as, without a word, he turned his back, the fur-trimmed hem of his cape fluttering against my outstretched fingers.
The blood drained from my head and pooled somewhere near my feet as sounds rushed through my ears like a roaring tide. I stumbled back several steps. Didn’t he recognize me? He’d been the one stalking me, for heaven’s sake!
“Gideon,” Jamie barked as he sat back on his throne. “Approach.”
“My laird.” Gideon moved from behind me and bent in a stiff bow. “These girls utilized the witch’s magic to infiltrate our borders. For the safety o’ the kingdom, they must be imprisoned.”
Kenna stepped forward, palms held in front of her. “Whoa, there. I’m not going back to that hellhole. You can’t hold us without evidence. We have rights!”
Gideon spun to face us, grasping the hilt of his sword. “Not in Doon ye don’t, witch. Now hold yer tongue.”
Kenna put her hands on her hips and stepped toward him, raising herself up to her full height. “Make me, you bald rent-a-cop!”
Her bravado was admirable, but in this case I was pretty sure it was going to get us skewered. “Kenna, seriously! Now is not the time—” I pushed my impulsive friend behind me, wedging myself between her and our jailer.
“Enough!” Jamie rumbled from his throne, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Gideon, stand down.” The MacCrae had spoken. Immediately, Gideon took several steps back, but the feverish light didn’t fade from his eyes.
I threw Kenna a death stare and then turned toward the throne. “Ja—ah … Laird, please excuse my friend’s behavior. She’s tired and hungry and greatly distressed from being taken at knifepoint to a dungeon and—”
“Be silent.” Jamie’s disdain blazed at me across the room, causing heat to rush up my neck and into my cheeks. If I needed further confirmation that he didn’t know me, this was it.
“What say you to the charge of conspiring with the witch to breech the boundaries of Doon?” he asked evenly, his words hacking into my heart.
Too humiliated to speak, I stood trembling before him. Was this how I wanted to go down? Accused and convicted without a word in my own defense? The answer was a resounding NO.
Clenching my hands into fists, I took a step forward. But an iron grip on my arm halted my progress. I stopped, never taking my eyes off Jamie’s face. “Since you’re obviously the only one whose opinion matters”—I made a sweeping gesture with my free hand—“why do you believe we’re here, Your Highness?”
His ebony gaze narrowed and his hands gripped the armrests of his throne as if he struggled to hold himself in his seat. “Are you challenging my authority?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The barb flew out of my mouth before I could think better of it.
Jamie blinked, and for a moment the mask of authority fell from his face. His white-knuckled grip loosened, his eyes softened, and his jaw unclenched. My heart stuttered as my Jamie appeared before me. Did he remember after all? Or was it on the edge of his consciousness like a dream—the harder you tried to recall the details the faster they slipped away?
With a deep, shuddering breath, he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he focused on some point behind my head. The monarch was back, his perfect face void of expression. Straightening his spine, he addressed Gideon decisively. “Take ’em back to the dungeon.”
“What?” Kenna exclaimed from behind me. “That’s the extent of our hearing?”
“Please …” I almost added “Jamie,” but stopped myself just in time. “Kenna’s aunt—”
“Silence, witch!” Gideon hissed, grabbing my other arm with a painful twist.
“Let go! You’re hurting me.” Trying to pull out of Gideon’s rough grasp, I looked to Jamie for help, but he showed all the emotion of a statue.
“Take them now, Gideon,” the boy on the throne ordered impassively.
“A word, brother.” A voice called from the back of the room. I turned to see Jamie’s tall, dark-haired brother, moving toward us.
> “Not now, Duncan.” Jamie’s regard shifted to his brother, but his expression didn’t change.
Undeterred, Duncan barreled forward, “These wee lasses are—”
The crown prince’s face turned as dark as a thundercloud. He shot to his feet, grabbed Duncan by the arm, and led him out the side door.
From my limited vantage point, I watched the princes whispering in heated conversation. After a moment, Jamie returned and stood before the throne, his arms crossed over his chest, his face a granite mask. Duncan stood beside him, a triumphant grin lifting one side of his mouth.
When Jamie spoke, there was no inflection in his voice. “I’m releasing you both into the custody of Fergus and my brother, Prince Duncan, until such time that yer trial can be conducted.”
Gideon’s hold tightened painfully on my arms and he sputtered, “But laird!”
Jamie’s cutting gaze shifted to my jailor. “Gideon, I require your assistance with the king.”
“Yes, sire.”
Gideon released me, and as I rubbed the feeling back into my aching arms Jamie stalked from the room without so much as a glance in my direction. Gideon followed close on his heels. Great. Just what we didn’t need—our fanatical accuser having the opportunity to fill Jamie’s head with more lies.
Duncan approached with a smug twinkle in his eye. He extended one arm to me and then turned to Kenna. “Fear not, m’ ladies. You are under the protection of Duncan Rhys Finnean MacCrae, Prince o’ Doon, and no harm will come to you. I swear it on m’ life.”
CHAPTER 10
Mackenna
Huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf, I staggered to the top of the tower and paused to revel in my accomplishment. I felt like I’d scaled the Statue of Liberty or the Eiffel Tower. One-hundred and seventeen steps—this place really needed to invest in some elevators.
Ahead of me, our rescuer paused to open a heavy wooden door. With a formal bow and a flourish of his hand, Prince Duncan MacCrae waited for us to precede him into the room. “After you, m’ ladies.”
With a murmur of thanks, Vee hurried across the threshold. All that climbing and she wasn’t even winded. I lumbered behind her, doing my best not to sound like a mouth-breathing phone stalker. Panting through my nose only made it worse, so I pretended to admire a painting on the wall until I could recover.
While I feigned an interest in bovine landscapes, Vee paced across the room, busying herself with our new surroundings. Despite the polite smile on her face, the corners of her mouth pinched in tight lines, as if she were holding herself together by sheer determination. Her eyes slid across mine, threatening to storm as she bit her lower lip. Hastily fixing her focus on the opposite end of the room, she exclaimed, “Oh, wow!”
Tearing myself away from the riveting oil canvas of cows, I walked over to where Vee had paused in front of a wall of glass. Floor to ceiling diamond-cut panes sparkled in the sun. Vee pointed beyond them to the tranquil rolling hills. “I’ll bet you can see the whole kingdom from here.”
“Aye, that ye can.”
Sweet Baby Sondheim! I nearly jumped out of my skin as Duncan’s words assaulted the back of my neck. While we’d been gawking at the sights, the sneaky prince had crept up behind us. Or, more specifically, me. He was light on his toes for a big guy. And a little too close for comfort.
With effort, Vee turned her attention away from the view. She flashed the prince a thousand-watt smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s spectacular—like being suspended in the clouds. Isn’t it, Kenna?”
Still trying to recover from being scared half to death, I managed a shrug. Which apparently wasn’t good enough for my friend, because she suddenly dug her stiletto elbow into my ribcage. “Gaphf—I’m breathless with admiration.”
Duncan chuckled. “So I noticed.”
“Would you look at this?” Vee spun me around so the ogre and I were nose to nose as she gracefully slipped between us. “This room is amazing!”
I supposed I’d have to take her word for it, since my vision was blocked by the Medieval Hulk. Didn’t this creep know about personal space? Up close and intimate with the prince, tiny details jumped out at me. His short dark hair contained some sort of styling product, giving his unruly waves an effortlessly tousled look. The golden flecks sparkling in his brown eyes created an effect that reminded me of melted caramel. Laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes. And he smelled … like sun-warmed saddles.
His eyes widened at the same moment I realized that I’d sniffed him. Fabulous. Now he would think I was some deranged girl who went around smelling people. Before I could come up with some sort of plausible explanation, Vee made yet another comment about the decor. “Everything works together so well.”
With a silent smirk, Duncan retreated enough to give me an unobstructed view of the roaring fire opposite the windows and sitting area in between. But not enough space to pass without brushing against him.
Trapped, I watched Vee flit about the room like an over-stimulated hummingbird, flapping her wings just to survive. “Check out this massive hearth. It’s like staring into the mouth of a fire-breathing dragon.” Despite her admirable performance, her tone betrayed her.
Vee coped with life’s crap by smiling through it. Between the dungeon and high-and-mighty Jamie MacCrae, she’d faced more than her daily quota. And we hadn’t even gotten to the ominous and looming trial we were meant to face. She’d fall apart when she was ready. The most I could do was be prepared—which usually involved obscene amounts of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey and the Harry Potter saga on DVD. I doubted I’d find either at the local farmer’s market.
She turned to survey the rest of the room, gliding across the plush navy and sage rugs that covered the polished wood floor. As she moved, she paused to manhandle pieces of elegant yet comfortable-looking furniture that captured her interest. Her path made me notice gleaming tables and overstuffed chairs in shades of walnut and gold, artfully arranged into conversation groups for an effect that was both intimate and feng shui.
“This space is so inviting and—you have a library!” Like a magnet, she drifted toward the collection of books lining the back wall. Her fingertips explored the spines with growing enthusiasm.
“Look at this, Ken. Shakespeare. Dickens. Chaucer. And Jane Austen.” That was my girl. Despite the hellish day—and the threat of more to come—she couldn’t resist the siren song of literature. She pulled a red, gilded volume from the shelf and delicately opened it. “This—this is a first edition!”
“They’re all first editions.” Finally, the prince moved toward Vee, his face beaming with pride. “And there’s a hundredfold in the castle library.”
With faintly trembling hands, Vee slipped the priceless book back into its rightful place before turning her questioning countenance toward the prince. “These books have got to be worth thousands of dollars. Why aren’t they in the library with the rest?”
“Because these particular volumes are mine. This is my personal collection. All my favorites.”
That didn’t make sense. I charged across the room to join them. “Why would you keep your favorite books in the guest room?”
“Guest room?” The prince blinked at me for a moment, his brown eyes puzzled. Like the proverbial lightbulb, something clicked into place, and his gut-busting laugh filled the room. “These aren’t guest rooms, lass. These’re my chambers.”
His chambers?
Besides being surprisingly refined for the lair of an ogre, the rooms were occupied. Did he really have the audacity to think we’d bunk with him? Not on his pampered royal life!
“We’re not staying in your rooms.”
“Relax, woman. It’s not as if I’m asking ye to share my bed.” He paused a second too long, peering at me from beneath half-lowered lids. “I’ll be stayin’ across the way.”
Before I could respond, Vee lightly touched my arm, her cue that my mouth needed to stay shut while she diffused the situation. “While we’re
honored by your hospitality, your—eh—highness, we couldn’t possibly put you out of your own chambers.”
“Oh, but I insist.” He leveled his gaze at me. “This is the safest place in the castle. I’ll have one of my men stationed just beyond the door, and Fergus and I will be close by.”
A man stationed just outside the door. Like what? A jailer. “Now, look,” I began.
Duncan cut me off. “If ye won’t think of your own safety, think of your friend’s.” As if in agreement, Vee shivered.
I couldn’t argue with that. Gideon was skulking around somewhere—and the last thing I wanted was to wake with him standing over us. But that didn’t mean I had to be all grateful about the accommodations. “Fine,” I huffed. “As long as you have the servants change your sheets—ugh!”
Vee’s elbow dug between my ribs to pummel my kidney. When we got home, I was going to duct tape a pair of elbow pads to her arms. With a toss of her shiny chestnut hair, she curtsied to the prince. “Thank you, Prince—eh—your highness, sir.”
He reached for Vee’s hand. When she gave it to him, he bent to brush a chaste kiss across her knuckles. He straightened with a grin, his bewitching eyes darting from Vee to me. “You needn’t stand on formalities with me. Please, call me Duncan.”
Faced with his smug, lopsided grin, I couldn’t help but be contrary. “That’s very kind, your highness, but I couldn’t.”
“I must insist.” He offered me his hand, palm up. Then for good measure, he added, “If ye refuse me, I’ll have ye thrown back into the dungeon.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Is that a challenge?” The right corner of his top lip twitched in a way that made me almost completely certain he was bluffing.
The echoes of a long-forgotten incident floated up from my subconscious. Some kind of face off with a smug little boy—on the playground, maybe—but before I could capture it, Vee’s elbow struck again and the thought vanished.
