Destined for Doon (19 page)

Fiona buried her face in her hands, and Kenna rushed over, hugging the girl’s shaking shoulders. “Hey, don’t worry about me. You’ve got enough on your mind right now. I can take a little sarcasm. Plus, we all know I would make a craptastic queen.” She threw a helpless glance in my direction.

“Yeah. Can you imagine her first decree?” Improvising, I stood and cupped my hands around my mouth. “Attention, Doonians: Every third Tuesday shall forevermore be Show Tune Day! All communication shall be expressed only through song and dance!”

“You mean my first decree
after
I outlawed the color orange,” Kenna added as she released Fiona’s shoulders and reached for a scone. “It really does nothing for my complexion.” Wet giggles bubbled from Fiona like a soda fountain.

“And,” Kenna persisted, “my third, and most important decree would require proper costuming for Show Tune day. All men would wear plaid knickers and buckled tap shoes.”

“Can you imagine Fergus?” I demanded through my laughter.

“We’d make a special costume to match his favorite tam.” Kenna nodded in decision.

The thought of the giant tap-dancing in head-to-toe yellow plaid like some ginormous leprechaun was too much to take. The drink of tea I’d just taken spewed out of my nose in a decidedly un-majestic display. Fiona leaned back and clutched her stomach as tears of glee now rolled down her cheeks.

After the burning in my sinuses subsided, and the much needed laughter had cleared the tension from the air, I got us back on task. “Thanks for meeting with me before services, girls. I read something rather interesting last night, but I’m not quite sure how it can help us.” Setting my plate aside, I picked up Queen Lynnette’s book and began to read the passage I’d marked:

With the limbus creeping ever closer and the army yet to return, I have devised a plan. I shall utilize my previous acquaintance with the coven. When I was but a baker’s daughter and before I knew Adelaide and her sisters to be evil, I would often trade with them on market day — baked goods and bread for herbal remedies and such. Perhaps it is naïve, but I believe I can appeal to whatever good nature is left in them.

I paused and looked up from the text. Fiona and Kenna sat across from me in identical poses, leaning forward with their elbows propped on their knees while clutching their mugs. Satisfied I had their attention, I opened to the next slip of parchment I’d used as a bookmark. “Here’s where it gets interesting.

Under the cover of darkness, and without the king’s knowledge, I traversed the dark forest to the witch’s cottage. They welcomed me with open arms and listened
respectfully to my proposal. The coven have agreed to a bargain. No more lives shall be lost to this heinous war, but we must leave Doon within a fortnight. Never to return. I’ve given Addie and her sisters the throne.

I only hope Angus can one day forgive me.”

The old leather spine creaked as I closed the book and pasted an expectant look on my face. These passages left me unsettled, a deep-seeded worry niggling at the back of my mind.

“What happened?” Kenna prompted, waiting for me to wrap everything up with a neat little bow.

“I don’t know, because then she died.”

“She died?” Kenna slumped back against the pillows. “But she gave Addie what she wanted, right?”

“I think that’s what she believed.” A chill stole across my skin, and I pulled a blanket over my lap. “But according to the legend of the Miracle, the coven had already made a bargain with the Great Deceiver, and he didn’t just want the land, he wanted the souls of the people as well.”

“She didna have faith,” Fiona whispered. “She took matters inta her own hands, and she failed.”

“So we’re supposed to just sit back, have faith, and
poof . . .
the limbus will disappear?” Kenna demanded.

“Nay, but acting outside o’ the Protector’s will” — Fiona’s gaze drilled into mine — “is pure folly.”

I cleared my throat. “Ah . . . there are a few more pages here, but they’re increasingly cryptic. It’s pretty clear that Lynnette realized she’d been duped before she passed on. I have some more books to read through,” I finished lamely, and stared at my folded hands.

Queen Lynnette had done everything I would’ve done. She’d put the people above her own life, but it hadn’t been enough.
Wasn’t self-sacrifice honorable? How was what Lynnette did different than me trading places with Jamie to save him from the same witch? I swallowed a gulp of tepid tea along with the lump in my throat.

Fiona stood and began to tidy the table, and Kenna rose saying she needed to get ready for church. But I couldn’t move. The weight of my responsibility pressed me to the spot. Kenna glanced at me as she walked by, her eyes filled with questions. Attempting to reassure her, I shook my head and rummaged up a small smile. I didn’t want to talk through what was bothering me. For once, I didn’t think she’d understand.

After my friends had gone, I couldn’t deny the questions burning inside me. What would the Protector want me to do?
Me.
A girl-queen with a handful of months on the throne. I’d lectured Jamie once about his lack of faith, about putting his own selfish desires above those of his kingdom and his Protector. But in fact, I knew nothing of the Protector’s will.

I’d waited all day. Jamie’d been by my side through services, a stilted luncheon with my advisors, and our weekly calls on the infirm, and still he’d told me nothing about the ticking time bomb of the limbus. I’d spent the remainder of the evening scouring every book that had anything to do with the original curse on Doon and felt no closer to discerning the Protector’s will for me, or for the kingdom. And now, at the end of a very long day, I stood in the middle of my beautiful tower suite, my gut coiling like a python around a rabbit, squeezing tighter with every breath.

Jamie’s lack of confidence in me only solidified that I was a figurehead — a queen in name only. I tugged at the tiara he’d given me, my scalp screaming in protest as the hair twisted
around the edges fought to hold it in place. With a vicious yank, I pulled it off my head, and blinked back tears as a few strands of hair went with it. I held it out and stared at the intricate design; regal jeweled flowers entwined in a simple setting of silvery leaves, anchored by sturdy branches. In my heart, it represented everything I wanted to be — noble, humble, and strong. Everything I knew I
could
be, if only the boy who claimed to love me recognized it too.

But if Jamie didn’t see it, how could I expect the people to? How could I be the queen they needed? The queen the Protector needed? I dropped the crown onto the table with a clink.

I had to
move
.

Sprinting into my bedroom, I stripped out of my dress and threw on my running clothes. I was halfway to the door when I remembered Kenna’s gift to me that morning — a solar battery pack. It was the sole thing I would’ve asked her to bring me from the modern world. But I hadn’t needed to ask. One advantage of sharing a brain.

After clearing a space in the middle of the room, I jogged over to the window seat and cheered. The tiny light on the box had turned green, indicating a full charge. I grabbed my cell phone, plucked out the small, flat battery, and replaced it with the charged one. The screen lit up with an electronic pixie jingle. As expected, the bars at the top of the display indicated zero connection, but I wasn’t trying to make a call. My fingers trembled as I plugged in the earphones Kenna thought to include and tapped the
Play Music
icon. I hit shuffle, and the first strains of a Justin Timberlake remix hit my ears and shot through my nerve endings.

God bless solar power!

Head bobbing, hips swaying, my chest throbbed with the beat. The deep bass line slammed into my brain, and then there
was nothing but the music. Pieces of an old hip-hop routine flowed into pirouettes and leaps. Time had no meaning as every ounce of my being was consumed by the current of movement, the dance washing away every worry and fear. I twirled and let the ebb and flow of the rhythm guide me. Feeling like I could fly, I jumped, extending my legs into a jeté and then landed with a whirl, the weight of the world spun off my shoulders.

As the beat built to a crescendo, I swiveled, tipped back, and extended my leg to the ceiling. Upside down, I caught a glimpse of tanned legs topped by a blue and green kilt. I straightened and pivoted so fast, I toppled to the side, barely catching myself on my other foot. Heat, which had nothing to do with the sweat coating my skin, prickled up my neck.

Jamie lolled against the doorjamb, taking up most of the arched entryway. His time leading the guard had thickened his already muscled frame, causing his shirts to stretch across his chest and shoulders like an actor in a superhero movie. My heart hammered against my ribs as he shrugged off the wall and in a few smooth strides closed the distance between us.

Less than a breath of space between us, he stopped, and I caught a hint of his scent — clean and stormy like the rain-washed sky. He glanced down at me, a slow grin spreading across his face, white teeth flashing in the setting sun. Then his lips moved, but I couldn’t hear. I plucked out one of my earbuds. “What?”

He lifted a finger and drew a line through the sweat on my upper arm. “I said, when you move, ’tis like silent poetry.”

A warm rush of pleasure buzzed through me. Jamie MacCrae had his ways of being charming, but banal flattery was not one of them. When he said something, you could be sure he meant it. I smiled into his dark eyes and replied, “Not so silent.” As a new song began, I stepped closer, took my other earbud and raised it toward his head. But before I got far, a hard
bass line blared and he tilted his head away. His brows lowered as he turned to glare at the miniature speaker, like a lion irritated by a new species of fly.

Giggling, I lowered my hand. “Hold on.”

I scrolled through my songs and selected one with a slower tempo. But when I lifted the speaker, he stepped back and shook his head. “Nay.”

“Just try it, okay? I want you to hear
my
kind of music.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded and stepped forward. I rose on my toes, brushed back his hair, and slipped the tiny bud into his ear. Jamie’s eyes widened as the song swirled around us, Christina Aguilera’s bluesy voice filling both our heads. I guided his hand to my hip and began to move with the languorous tempo. The tension eased out of him, and he relaxed against me, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Lost in the music, I closed my eyes and raised my arms. The notes swept through me, blocking every worry and transporting me to a place where I was not queen and no lives depended on my decisions. A place where the only thing that mattered was this moment with my ridiculously hot boyfriend.

Placing one hand on my ear to keep the bud in place, I swiveled to the slow beat and then wrapped my arms around Jamie’s neck. He began to move with me, our bodies synchronized like we were dancing together in a club. But when I opened my eyes, Jamie’s gaze was anything but serene. He gripped my arms, backed me into the table, and smashed his mouth against mine.

The music pulsing in both our ears, he cradled the sides of my head in his palms and slowed the kiss. With the smooth slide of his lips, I melted against him, digging my fingers into his rounded shoulders. As soon as he touched me, every rational thought flew out of my head. He was like an addiction, and I didn’t think I’d ever get enough.

Jamie deepened the kiss as one hand cupped my neck, and the other wandered down my back, his thumb tracing my spine. Hot and cold tingles shot all the way to my toes, and the world spun out of control. Dizzy, I grabbed a fistful of his shirt. He flattened his palm against the indentation of my waist, pressing me tighter against him. Then, low and deep, he spoke something unintelligible against my lips as he lifted me and set me on the tabletop. With a powerful shiver, I broke the kiss, startled by the urgency building between us.

Jamie lifted his head, both of us breathing hard. His eyes blazed into mine as he wrapped his other arm around my waist, and gently set me on my feet. I tucked my head into that perfect spot beneath his chin and listened to the rapid beat of his heart.

“I like your music.” He paused. “It’s no bagpipes and fiddle, o’ course.”

He chuckled and I savored the vibration of the rare sound against my ear.

“I’ve missed you, Verranica,” he whispered into my hair and tightened his embrace. “Missed this.”

I’d missed him too. Desperately. But his words reminded me of all the things that stood between us. Physical attraction had never been one of our problems. I breathed him in, pressed my lips to the warm, firm skin of his neck, and then let him go. I separated our limbs and took the speaker from each of our ears, before winding the cords around my phone. Reaching across the table, I set it inside the circle of my tiara.

Unable to believe I’d let his freaking amazing kisses distract me, I kicked the throw rug, unfurling it back into place. Was I just like Janet? Swayed by whatever man showed me affection? Changing to suit his whims? I could feel the weight of Jamie’s gaze on me, but I ignored him and picked up an end table.