Doon

by Carey Corp

  Turning, I asked, “What happened with your deer?”

  He grinned, and I could see him as a little blond boy, dirt smudged on his dimpled cheeks.

  “I lured it into the castle with a trail of raspberries. But my ma wouldna have any of it. Said deer droppings were not an appropriate addition to the castle motif.”

  I burst out laughing at the image of the spoiled princeling thwarted by his mother, the pragmatic queen.

  “Come. We’re almost there.” He tugged my hand and we set off together up the path.

  The rocky trail opened onto a plateau, surrounded by forest and guarded on three sides by soaring mountains.

  “Oh.” It was an inadequate response, but the beauty of the glen that lay before us stole my breath—and apparently my ability to form words.

  Jamie squeezed my hand in understanding. “Worth the hike, eh?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Hand in hand, we stepped off the path and into a rainbow of prairie grass and wildflowers, our movement releasing a fusion of bright, sweet perfume that I wished I could bottle and save for a rainy day.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of selectin’ a spot for us on the far side o’ the glade. Are you hungry?”

  I tore my gaze away from the deep-red poppies, golden buttercups, and delicate bluebells brushing my skirt to glance at the impossibly gorgeous guy gazing down at me, and felt a little faint. Whatever happened in the future, I had to stop analyzing Jamie’s every move and seize this moment. Taste it, touch it, smell it, feel it—etch the memory forever in my heart.

  A smile burst from deep inside me. “Yes, ravenous, and thirsty too.”

  With an amused grin, he hefted the basket in his hand like a dumbbell. “Well, ye’re in luck then. By the weight of this thing, I’d say Fiona packed us a right feast!”

  Down a short hill and across a gurgling stream, we found Jamie’s perfect spot and spread out a tartan blanket under the trees.

  I stepped onto the fluttering plaid cloth and sat with my legs crossed under my skirt. “So, how did you find this place?”

  “As lads, Duncan and I made it our life’s goal to explore every inch of Doon.”

  Jamie moved to the opposite side of the blanket, lowered himself to one knee, and began unpacking our lunch. “As large as Doon is, it is finite, and what adventure is to be found …” He glanced up, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, two lads such as m’ brother and I were determined to find it.”

  “Did you accomplish your goal then? Have you seen every inch of the kingdom?” I asked before popping a grape into my mouth.

  A cloud passed over his eyes as he looked at me. “Aye. Every glade, forest glen, and mountain peak.”

  As he spread out the amazing selection of food, the tension in his shoulders lessened, but he remained pensive. I wanted to say something cute to distract him, but nothing came to mind, so I busied myself filling my plate with cheeses, fresh rye bread, fruit, and a variety of salads. A feast fit for a king, I thought as a tense giggle slipped from my lips.

  “Lemonade?”

  “Yes, please.” I punctuated the two words by another giggle. Now that we’d stopped moving, my nerves were catching up to me.

  Like a predator sensing fear, he fixed his gaze on my face, a hungry smile curling his lips. I froze, the laughter dying in my throat. Our eyes locked as he leaned forward with feral grace. In the shadow of the trees, his eyes took on the hue of a midnight sky. My mouth opened, and I suppressed the urge to bite my lip as he moved closer.

  Never breaking eye contact, Jamie reached toward me and carefully took the glass out of my hand. Then he sat back on his haunches, and picked up the carafe of lemonade. When he handed me the filled glass, I avoided touching his fingers.

  “Thanks,” I said, pleased my voice didn’t squeak.

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  He smiled and I had to look away. Get a grip, Veronica! What was is it about this guy? I mean, besides the fact that he resembled a male model with the build of a professional athlete, his accent consistently melted the bones from my body, and, last but not least, he was a real-life freakin’ prince? Really, what did I have to be nervous about? That ridiculous conclusion made me giggle again.

  “I like that.”

  Startled out of my private thoughts, I looked up at Jamie, who during my preoccupation had devoured his first plate of food and was now loading up his second.

  “What?”

  “That ye dinna care what other people think of you.” He bit into a slice of turkey, grinning as he chewed.

  “What do you mean?” I was sure he was making fun of me, but I hadn’t yet figured out how.

  “You just start laughing at somethin’ you thought about in your head.” He took a huge bite of bread and kept talking. “Has anyone ever accused you of being a wee bit mad?” He twirled his finger in a circle near his ear in the universal gesture for crazy.

  “No!” I pursed my lips in mock offense. “Has anyone ever told you that you have appalling table manners?”

  He quirked an eyebrow.

  I tilted my nose in the air in my best imitation of Mrs. Francis, Bainbridge High’s ever-pretentious Home Ec teacher. “‘One should never speak with one’s mouth full.’ Didn’t they teach you that in Prince School?”

  Jamie flashed a wicked grin before stuffing half a slice of bread into his mouth, “Well, as the soon-to-be ruler o’ Doon, I declare speaking with one’s mouth full an edict. From this day forth, no one is to speak unless their mouth be stuffed full!”

  At least that’s what I thought he said around the chunk of bread in his mouth. Mentally adding ‘great sense of humor’ to my growing list of his desirable traits, I sat up, jammed half an oatmeal cookie into my mouth, and raised my glass in the air. “Here, Here!” I cried, or rather, garbled around my stuffed mouth.

  His loud laughter rang through the glen as he rocked back, catching himself just before he fell flat on his back. The dimple appeared along the side of his mouth, and I thought my heart might burst. This boy-king-to-be desperately needed a little fun in his life, and if I could play any part in that, then whatever time I had here in Doon would be well served.

  “I never thanked you for the miniature castle.” I focused on a string that had frayed from the hem of my skirt before glancing up with a small smile. “I love it. Thank you.”

  “You’re verra welcome.” Jamie beamed, set his plate down, and stood. “Come on,” he said, cocking his head in the direction of the trees.

  “Archery?” I asked as I got to my feet and brushed crumbs from my skirt.

  “Later. I have a mind to show you something special.”

  We wound our way through the forest for at least fifteen minutes before he turned to me, extending his hand. I couldn’t read his expression clearly in the shadow of the dense trees, but as I put my fingers in his I felt the excitement buzzing through him.

  Pushing through a line of dense brush, we came out of the forest to face a sheer rock wall rising into the sky farther than I could see. Up ahead, a boulder protruded from the mountain appearing to block the path. A deep roar vibrated through my chest, and I tightened my grip on his hand.

  As we approached the boulder, the roaring grew louder, and a new scent permeated the forest—a refreshing, briny aroma that cut straight through the pine and cedar. Glancing over his shoulder, Jamie smiled broadly and then turned left into a narrow rocky passage. I couldn’t see around him, but an invigorating breeze flowed around us, the rhythmic roaring becoming almost deafening.

  The ocean. The realization hit me just as he pulled me out onto a ledge, and the whole world opened up before us.

  “Oh, Jamie.” Squeezing his hand, I leaned into his arm.

  Cobalt-blue water met the cerulean sky, stretching infinitely into the horizon. Jagged moss-covered rocks broke the waves crashing along the coastline far below. It was the most spectacular thing I’d ever seen. Of course, the only other time I’d seen the ocean I’d been ca
reening down a crooked Scottish road in the rain, Kenna driving like an escaped NASCAR lunatic. That first day in Scotland seemed a lifetime ago now.

  “’Tis the northernmost boundary of Doon,” Jamie said reverently.

  We were standing on an outcropping protruding from the side of a cliff, the narrow beach two hundred feet below us.

  “It’s breathtaking.”

  “Aye. I come here often to think. When I feel … auntsee.”

  His pronunciation threw me for a moment, but when I realized he was saying antsy, I grinned up at him. He returned my smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Do you feel that way often?” I asked.

  “From time to time …” He trailed off, but I sensed there was more he was not saying. “Shall we sit?”

  “Sure.”

  Jamie lowered himself on the ledge, leaned back against the rock face, and pulled me down beside him.

  I let go of his hand to situate myself. The cool stone cut through the thin cotton of my shirt as I leaned back. Arranging the fabric around my bent legs, I realized I was sitting over a foot away from him. I stared back out at the ocean, and contemplated scooting closer but decided it would be too obvious.

  “Come here.”

  Although it was what I wanted, I bristled at the direct order. This boy was a little too accustomed to getting his every whim fulfilled without question.

  Looking over at him, I lifted my brows in challenge. “No.” Then I turned my attention back to the view.

  “Dinna be stubborn, lass,” he practically growled.

  “You’re the stubborn one. I’m fine where I am.” I shrugged and stared straight ahead.

  “Please, come sit with me,” he said, forced sincerity dripping from every word.

  I glanced at him, fighting the smile curving up the corners of my mouth, and said, “Better.”

  Scooting across the smooth rock, I closed about half the distance between us. A slow smirk spread across Jamie’s face, causing his eyes to narrow. I tensed, wondering if he would pounce.

  “I would like it verra much if you would come sit next to me.” He patted the ground next to his thigh, indicating where he wanted me to sit. Then he stared directly into my eyes, leaned forward, and picked up a lock of my hair, brushing the ends across the pad of his thumb. “Please, Verranica?”

  Something warm settled in the pit of my stomach, my limbs going all rubbery. With a sigh, I closed the remaining distance between us. A girl could only take so much.

  Promptly, Jamie wrapped his muscled arm around me and tucked me close to his side. His delicious scent enveloped me—clean pine and the wind before a storm, a combination that smelled perfect to me. Although I couldn’t remember ever being so glad to comply in my life, I threw out one last jab. “Happy now?”

  “Aye.” There was a smile in his voice.

  “Have you ever gone swimming in the ocean?” I asked, desperate to diffuse the sparks his knuckles created as they brushed rhythmically against my arm.

  “I canna.”

  I stared at our legs stretched out in front of us, side by side, trying to focus my thoughts on something other than throwing myself into his lap and kissing him until neither of us could breathe.

  “So you can’t swim?”

  “Nay, I can swim.” His voice sounded slightly higher than usual.

  “Didn’t I see a path in the rock over there?” I pointed to our left to indicate the steep trail leading down and out of sight.

  “When I say this is the northernmost border o’ Doon, I mean this cliff. We can see the ocean but never touch it. Except for the Centennial, o’ course. But during the last Centennial I hadna yet been born.”

  “What would happen if you tried to go down to the beach?” Gray clouds were gathering, darkening the sky. The wind picked up, whipping the waves below us into a frenzy. Jamie’s hand stopped moving against my skin.

  “’Tis complicated, but if I were able to cross the border, the kingdom and everyone in it would cease to exist. They would all vanish into the mist as if they never lived.” The timbre of his voice had turned low and anguished.

  His words confirmed the legend, but there was something I didn’t quite understand. “What do you mean, ‘if you were able to cross the border’?”

  “Why are ye asking me this?”

  “I’m just trying to understand how it all works.” The intensity of his expression sent shivers of apprehension up my spine.

  “Why—” He cut himself off, his body going still beside me as he whispered, “The price.”

  “The price of what?” I searched his face, but he just stared at me, a furrow between his brows.

  “My mother always said there was a price for everythin’.” He looked out at the water and said something under his breath that sounded like, “the price of true love.”

  “What did you say?” I breathed, afraid to move or break the spell.

  “I shouldna have brought you—” He stopped. With a blink of his eyes and a clench of his jaw, my Jamie was gone, and the heir to the throne was back. “We need to return.”

  “But—” He was slipping away from me. I was watching it happen but didn’t know how to stop it.

  Standing, he turned and helped me to my feet, promptly releasing my hand afterward. “Ye need not worry about it, Verranica. It is my responsibility alone to bear.” His reply was terse, almost accusing.

  And in that instant, the fragile peace between us shattered. The reality of my situation—the choice I needed to make—crashed down around me.

  As he turned to go through the rock passage, I clutched his bicep and dug my fingernails into the granite muscle, not willing to let him walk away from me. I needed answers. “Don’t you dare shut me out! What about the Calling?”

  He turned, the strength of his gaze piercing my very soul. “What Calling?”

  My heart plummeted to my feet and I removed my hand from his arm. When I spoke, it was a whisper. “Did you see me before I came here?” I held my breath for any sign of emotion but his eyes were hard as obsidian.

  “Aye, I saw you in my dreams. But it doesna matter.”

  “How can you say that?” I shook my head. “Isn’t the Calling sacred in Doon?”

  His eyes locked on mine and something stirred there, something volatile that sent fear rushing though my body.

  “Aye, but that’s not what we have.” His jaw clenched, his posture going rigid. “Not all dreams are sacred.”

  Cold rushed down my spine, I swallowed hard. “What are you talking about? Jamie, you can trust me.”

  He moved so fast, I was unprepared when he grabbed me. His strong fingers wrapped around my upper arms, and he pulled me onto my toes, bringing my face to within inches of his.

  “Really? I can trust you? You have no idea what yer saying! The very fate of Doon rests on me. And you …” His face contorted with torment. “You touch me and I’m ready to throw it all away!” He shook me as if the violent movement would make me understand. “What I feel doesna matter. If yer truly connected to the witch … there will be no mercy. I have to remain strong. Don’t you see? I dinna have a choice!”

  “Strong, how?” I whispered as tears stung the back of my eyes. I already knew the answer—strong because he had to deny what was between us, so he could objectively sentence me to death or whatever punishment Doonians reserved for conspiracy to commit witchcraft.

  He abruptly loosened his hold on my arms, and I stumbled back several steps. He reached out and steadied me but stepped away quickly. “This”—he gestured toward me and then back at his chest—“canna go on.” His voice was strong and sure, but his eyes filled with regrets.

  Thunder bellowed across the sky. All the blood seemed to drain out of my body as I took a step toward him. “Jamie, please believe—”

  “M’ laird!” A shout in the distance cut me off. The male voice was familiar, but too distorted with agitation for me to place.

  Jamie turned toward the passage without
a backward glance and began to run. Cursing my stupid skirts, I yanked up the material to my thighs and followed.

  Ahead, Fergus burst through the trees, his face mottled crimson. Leaning over to catch his breath, he watched us approach with anxious eyes. “M’ laird,” he gasped, “’tis yer father. There are horses waitin’ for ye on the low path. Duncan’s already gone ahead. Ye must make haste.”

  Jamie put his hand on Fergus’s massive shoulder. “Stay with the lasses. See them safely back to the castle.”

  “Aye.”

  Then without so much as a word, or even a glance in my direction, Jamie MacCrae was gone.

  CHAPTER 20

  Veronica

  I plodded along behind Fergus through the forest and back toward the glen, dragging my battered heart behind me. Not even Eric had emotionally sucker punched me like the future king of Doon. Guys were idiots. Plain and simple.

  I knew the connection between Jamie and me was real—more real than anything I’d felt in my life—so why did he think he had to resist it? Did he really believe I was in league with the witch? Or maybe his history with Sofia trumped anything he felt for me. I kicked a pebble, sending it shooting through the underbrush. I still didn’t know if we’d shared the same visions, or dreams—whatever they were.

  And why did I care? Obviously, he didn’t.

  Fergus stopped so abruptly I almost smacked into his arm. Quick as lightning, he drew his weapon and maneuvered me behind him. “Gideon, man, ye better start talkin’.”

  “I arrived and found the girl standing over them.” Gideon’s voice sounded strange, even for him—agitated, almost frantic. “I subdued her for my own protection.”

  Peeking around the giant guard, I had to blink several times before I comprehended what I was seeing. Kenna sat rubbing the back of her head, looking dazed, surrounded by bodies. Dead bodies—soldiers I recognized from the castle guard—with faces frozen in various stages of terror.

  “Lass, do ye know how this happened?” Fergus asked Kenna, his tone carefully modulated. These soldiers could’ve been his friends, men he’d worked alongside every day.