Shades of Doon

by Carey Corp

  Grabbing a small clutch, I left my room with Eòran following closely behind. In the castle courtyard, framed by the glow of late-afternoon sun, Jamie waited for me by the open carriage. He’d changed into leather trousers and a forest green tunic, the thin material hugging his chest and broad shoulders. And he’d retied my ribbon around his bicep.

  His most recent gift to me sat by his booted feet — a Scottish deerhound puppy. The moment the dog saw me, his shaggy tail wagged so hard that his entire back end shook, his blue-gray fur quivering in anticipation. The breeder had named the dog Blaz — German for “unwavering protector.” I’d decided the name fit, since he was also the fastest thing I’d ever seen on four legs.

  The pup strained toward me, and Jamie made a sharp noise as he nudged the dog’s neck with two fingers. Blaz lowered to his haunches with a whine. Jamie’d made it his mission to train him as a proper guard dog. But I didn’t give a care about that. I had more than enough guards. I’d fallen head over heels in love.

  With a baiting grin, I stopped several yards away, lowered to the dog’s eye level, and made a kissing sound. Before Jamie could react, Blaz shot forward, almost knocking me over when his over-sized paws landed on my shoulders, his warm tongue coating my face. I laughed and pushed him away. “Hey, buddy.” I scratched his silky ears and then stood, the dog glued to my side as I walked to join Jamie at the carriage.

  “That just isna right.” Jamie shook his head, shooting Blaz a look of betrayal.

  “You wanted him to be devoted to me, right?”

  “Aye, but not blindly so.” Then Jamie’s eyes shifted to me, darkening as they swept over my face. “Though I canna say as I blame him. He’s besotted with you, just like every bloke in this kingdom.”

  I leaned against the strong heat of his chest and rose on my toes to press a kiss to his delectable mouth. “Well, then take me on a proper date,” I whispered.

  Jamie’s strong arms encircled my waist and pulled me closer, igniting tiny sparks all over my skin. A cross between a cough and fake sneeze stopped us just before our lips met again. I’d completely forgotten about Eòran.

  As Jamie and I separated, my loyal guard limped into view. “Excuse me, my queen, but I believe the céilidh is about ta begin. And ye wouldna want to miss the openin’ dance.”

  “Yes, of course.” For some reason, my cheeks flamed as if I’d been caught doing something naughty by a parent. “Then let’s be off.”

  “Och! I almost forgot.” Jamie snapped his fingers and then jogged around to the other side of the carriage. “Wait right there! And close your eyes.”

  I shook my head in wonder before squeezing my eyes closed. A whoosh of air informed me that Jamie had returned, but his normal masculine scent was masked by a beautiful aroma. Sweet, fresh, and green. I drew in the unmistakable fragrances of lavender and honeysuckle. And for a brief moment, I was a little girl chasing hummingbirds in our backyard in Indiana while my dad cooked hamburgers on the grill. “Come on, Vee-Vee! It’s time to eat.”

  I opened my eyes to a riotous mix of color. The blooms were beautiful, but the memory hit me like a snowball to the chest. I hadn’t thought about my dad’s nickname for me in a long time. Hadn’t allowed myself to remember how good things had been before — before drugs had stolen him from us.

  My eyes flooded with tears as Jamie said, “I picked them myself in that meadow down by the loch . . . Why are ye cryin’?”

  As his face became a stark mixture of hurt and panic, I swiped the moisture from my cheeks and pushed my dark thoughts away. “It’s just that no one’s ever given me flowers before.” It was true. And I had to fight the rise of emotion for an entirely different reason.

  Jamie’s crouched brows rose, and a slight pink washed over his smooth, shaven cheeks. “Oh, well . . . I . . . just thought ye might like them since — ”

  “I love them, you crazy boy!” I took the bouquet and threw my arms around him. “Now let’s go get some dinner. I’m starving!”

  After instructing a page to put my flowers in water, we all piled into the carriage and the driver took off at a quick trot. Blaz claimed the seat beside me, leaving Jamie to share the opposite bench with my guard. From the pinched look on Jamie’s face, and the fact that he’d arranged to have a driver other than himself, I figured this wasn’t the romantic beginning to our date that he’d envisioned.

  The crisp afternoon breeze ruffled my hair and skittered through the russet and scarlet leaves of the oaks framing the road. As we neared the end of fall, Doon only became more beautiful.

  Soon, we rounded a bend and turned onto the packed streets of the village. The Doonians called out greetings as we passed by. I smiled wide and waved like I was in the Scottish version of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. Lively music floated through the air. The vibrant colors of a maypole twirled in the distance. Hot spiced cider and fresh hand pies from a nearby vendor’s cart filled the air with the mouthwatering scents of autumn. And just like my first carriage ride into the market, I couldn’t wait to escape the confines of the vehicle and experience the sights, sounds, and tastes of everything around me.

  Jamie shot me a knowing look before instructing the driver to pull over and park on a side street. We rolled to a stop and Jamie jumped down. I stood, ready to follow behind him.

  “Wait. Let me assist you this time,” Jamie said with a wink before he reached up and encircled my waist, lifting me down as if I weighed next to nothing.

  “What? You don’t want me to tackle you to the ground?” I batted my eyelashes at him innocently.

  A naughty grin tilted his lips. “Tackle me all ye like, love. ’Tis never a hardship to break a pretty wench’s fall.”

  I pulled away from him and swatted his inanely hard bicep. “I’m a wench, am I?”

  Jamie’s laugh was rich and deep as he put an arm around me and led me away from the carriage. “Aye, but a bonny one. You look exceptionally lovely today. I especially like this new crown.” He leaned over to inspect the tiara more closely. “These stones practically glow against your dark hair.”

  “You don’t mind that I’m not wearing your mother’s crown?” I lifted my head and met his melting dark eyes.

  “Nay. I think she’d greatly approve.” He gave my waist a squeeze. “And no’ just of the crown.”

  I swallowed the sudden baseball in my throat as Blaz shot past me into the crowd, Eòran close on his heels. The people parted for us as we approached, dipping into bows and offering well wishes.

  A thrill of pure happiness rushed from my heart to my toes, making me want to dance. Kenna’s assessment had been dead-on. For once, all was right in our world. And I wasn’t about to let a few headaches or PTSD hallucinations stop me from savoring every single perfect moment.

  CHAPTER 4

  Mackenna

  In my experience, the best — and worst — things often happened while dancing. With each whirl, the present became clearer while the world beyond, with its future worries, dissolved into a dizzying blur. But eventually, when the music stopped, a terrible reality would come crashing in to shatter the illusion.

  In the past, dancing with Duncan had always been bittersweet. But this time was different, because when the music stopped the only thing we’d be facing was our happiness. Tomorrow we would still be together with our arms around each other, and we’d never have to come down to earth again.

  That comforting thought urged me to snuggle even closer to the boy who held me. My nose burrowed into the hollow of Duncan’s collarbone as I inhaled his summery scent of saddles and soap. His Adam’s apple brushed against my temple as he swallowed. Embracing the moment, I tipped my face up and kissed his throat.

  He smiled down at me, his dark eyes twinkling with surprise. “What was that for?”

  Blue and green paper lanterns, strung between posts so that they crisscrossed the open air pavilion, swayed gently over our heads. With my heart near bursting and my head about to pop, I replied, “For being you. And for
not giving up on me.”

  “I couldna if I tried.”

  I settled my face against his neck, only to notice the odd scrap of black cloth peeking out of his breast pocket where his handkerchief should have been. “What in the world are you wearing — is that my sock?”

  “Nay.” With mock solemnity, he said, “It is a priceless token given to me by my most esteemed and beautiful lady. Her footwear is more precious to me than rubies or gold.”

  I missed a step, laughing as I swatted his bicep. “Dork.”

  “If my lady commands it, a dork I shall be.”

  Duncan was in rare form tonight. I had missed his sunshiny demeanor. Needing a moment to catch my breath, I asked, “What if your lady commands a cold beverage?”

  He captured my hand and bent down to kiss it. “As you wish.”

  As Duncan disappeared into the crowd, Fiona waved at me. Next to her giant-sized husband, she looked like a doll, although she definitely wore the pants in that relationship. Fergus was a big old softie, but lethal with a blade — that, plus a petite yet formidable wife, made for an interesting combination. Adjacent to them I spied Analisa and the oldest Rosetti boy, whom I was really trying to think of as Giancarlo and not just local arm candy. Now that Duncan and I were together, Ana had made her relationship with the hot half-Italian, half-Scotsman official. Ana, who was half-Japanese and a forger by trade, was exotic in her own right; together she and Giancarlo were a walking, breathing Teen Vogue cover.

  Ana offered me a wink, to which I nodded in reply — probably the friendliest we would ever get. I wasn’t sure I’d ever entirely get over feeling jealous about her close friendship with my boyfriend. However, she’d proven her trustworthiness by helping us out of more than one tight spot. When Vee and I had been taken by an angry mob, Ana had secretly followed. While we faced the limbus, she’d infiltrated the opposition and untied the princes, who then overpowered their captors. By the time Vee and I had returned from the limbus covered in ash, Jamie and Duncan were in control — all thanks to Ana.

  Duncan approached with two mugs as Vee and Jamie spun past. Their dancing on the whole seemed far more ambitious than that of the rest of the villagers. They shimmied and high-stepped like something straight out of Dancing with the Medieval Stars. When the music swelled, Jamie plunged Veronica into a low dip and then held the pose as the tune ebbed into silence.

  The Doonians applauded their queen and her royal hottie as Jamie skillfully raised my bestie back to standing. For the first time since Vee’s collapse, Jamie seemed to let his guard down. But I harbored no illusions that the slightest case of indigestion on her part wouldn’t cause Jamie to relapse into Prince Overprotective mode.

  Truth be told, I couldn’t blame him. I still had nightmares about Vee crumpling to the ground, impossibly pale and as still as death. I thought my best friend was dying. Could I really blame the boy who loved her more than life for doting on her in the extreme? They were lucky to have one another — we were all lucky.

  I took a sip of cold, berry-infused water as the commotion died down and the elderly Reverend Guthrie took the stage. From the services I attended at the Ault Kirk, I knew him as an engaging and charismatic speaker. He cleared his throat and paused dramatically, waiting until all eyes were riveted to him before speaking in a strong, rolling brogue. “Many of our citizens have been learnin’ the art of storytelling from Calum Haldane, our verra own seanachaidh.”

  Duncan’s mouth brushed my ear, and the reverend’s words faded away as he whispered, “Seanachaidh” — which he pronounced shan-ah-kee — “means ‘storyteller.’ Calum’s family have been official storytellers in Doon for generations.”

  I nodded, caught between Duncan’s intoxicating nearness and Reverend Guthrie, who pointed in my direction. “Calum’s latest story, ‘The Piper and the Boots,’ should be o’ particular enjoyment ta our newest addition, Mackenna Reid.”

  The crowd’s focus shifted to me as I pasted on a polite smile. After a moment, Reverend Guthrie recaptured the audience, saying, “Now I give to ye, Calum Haldane.”

  Everyone clapped as a stocky, middle-aged man took the stage and began to speak in animated tones. As he recited, I couldn’t help but feel like an alien observing a far-off civilization. My muses were modern, like the Stephens — Sondheim, Schwartz — not seanachaidh, with their old Scottish wives’ tales. The drama of this world wasn’t mine. As if she were reading my mind, Vee glanced over her shoulder, catching my attention before I could look away. Her concern caused my eyes to sting. My vision swam and I refocused just beyond the little stage in the hope it would seem like I was watching the show. In my peripheral vision, I sensed more than saw as she turned back to the performance.

  Although Vee’s assimilation into Doon did have challenges, the conviction of her heart had never wavered. As I stared at the seanachaidh, I envied her certainty. Would I ever feel like this place was home? Could I really have a career here? What if I just ended up a baby-making housewife . . . producing little princes and princesses while my husband helped lead the kingdom? A tear slipped down my cheek as I grappled to discover my songs for this new world.

  Duncan’s warm hand found mine in the darkness and gently squeezed my cold fingers. His warm breath tickled the hairs on my neck as he whispered, “Come with me.”

  I started to question him, but he silenced me with a “shhh” and a gentle tug on my hand. Fingers intertwined, we slipped out of the performance and away from the festival. Cool air chilled my wet cheek as we walked in silence. When we reached the edge of the farmers’ market, I expected us to head toward the village, but Duncan gently led me in the opposite direction, down the deserted lane that led to farm country.

  “Where are we going?”

  He shrugged elegantly. “Ye will see.”

  Despite my melancholy mood, he piqued my curiosity. A low, full moon lit up the countryside so that I could clearly see the fence posts and dark clusters of sleeping sheep in the fields. In the distance, the trees gently swayed. The breeze reached me, carrying the familiar scents of heather and dung, and something sharper, like rosemary.

  After a few minutes, we came to a crossroads, and Duncan nudged me toward the grassy field. At the far edge of the paddock, I could just make out the larger shapes of cattle. In confirmation, a cow lowed.

  I’d recently confessed to Duncan the dream I’d had when we’d crashed in the icky barn during our journey back into Doon. I’d dreamt about Duncan kissing me and then I woke up to a moony-eyed cow giving me some unwelcome tongue action. Duncan thought it was outright hilarious and Vee had taken to referencing my kiss with Elsie the Amorous Cow as my “experimental” phase.

  I stopped at the edge of the lane where gravel road met grassy slope. “Wait. We’re not going to visit Elsie, are we?”

  Duncan turned and stepped into my space so that his body fit against mine. “Why? Do ye fancy her kisses more than mine?”

  “Difficult to say.” I pretended to consider his question. “She’s very fond of me.”

  “So you’re needing proof of my fondness, is that it?” He captured my face between his large, callused hands and examined me at an intense, yet leisurely pace. His eyes — the color of molten chocolate — studied my brows, my nose, my cheeks, and finally my mouth. After a breathless eternity, his gaze lifted to mine, his lips slightly apart as he closed the space between us.

  Kissing Duncan was like falling down a rabbit hole, the known world dropping away as I discovered a new, fantastical reality. It was equally as satisfying as being on stage . . . but less practical than drama as a vocation.

  Deepening our kiss, Duncan repositioned one hand on my waist while the other twisted into my hair. I wrapped my arms around his chest, my fingers digging into his muscular back as I urged him closer. My body came alive on a cellular level, feeling everything: his breath tickling my cheek, tiny goose bumps on my arms from the breeze, the searing heat of his body pressing into me, our frenzied hearts beating in duet as h
is soul intertwined with mine.

  Trembling, he pulled back enough to search my face. “Proof enough for ye?”

  “Maybe just a wee bit more.” I flung myself at him, and we resumed kissing until we were both senseless.

  When we finally parted, the world seemed sharper. Every molecule in my being zinged with awareness as Duncan slipped his fingers through mine and stepped into the grass.

  Despite his gentle tug, I refused to budge. “Where are we going, really?”

  He favored me with a crooked smile that was both cocky and mischievous. “Just a ways into the field.”

  “But I’ll get my boots dirty.” Before I’d even returned to Doon, Vee had commissioned a half dozen pairs of boots in my size in a variety of colors. They were a surprise for when I decided to stay. The soft moss-green suede ankle boots matched perfectly with my hi-lo dress — the latest design in Vee’s Royal Rock Star collection.

  “They’ll clean,” Duncan said with a chuckle.

  He gently tugged my hand again while I stared at my feet in dismay. “They’re new.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, woman.” Without another word, he scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of turnips. In spite of my half-hearted protests, he remained silent. When it became clear that resistance was futile, I calmed down and enjoyed the view — which was spectacular.

  When Duncan reached the center of the field, he carefully set me down on a thick patch of grass. Feigning irritation, I smoothed my skirt before meeting his expectant gaze. “Now what?”

  “I own this field.” His accompanying gesture swept his arms outward in a wide arc. “It’s not part of the MacCrae holdings. I purchased it outright last week.”

  So he was the proud owner of an empty field? Big whoop. He must’ve read the confusion on my face because he turned to the side, picked up a shovel, and presented it to me like a Tony Award. “Here. Take a scoop of the earth.”