by Carey Corp
Finally, we reached the curtained alcove I’d been searching for, and, ignoring the judgmental eyes of an immortalized king, pushed through the opening. I let go of Jamie’s hand long enough to close the drapes behind us. Then I whirled and pushed him against the wall with a thump, knocking a breath from his lungs. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I stood on my toes and kissed him as if it were the last time.
It only took him a heartbeat to return my affections. Our lips slanted, and it was like I was drowning or falling from a cliff, but I didn’t want to be saved. If something went wrong, and I died tonight, there was nothing I would miss more than this — more than him. He ran his hands up and down my back, seeking until one hand wrapped around the back of my neck and the other caressed my bare shoulder.
The touch of his fingers rushed through my nerve endings, lighting me on fire. I pressed against him, unable to get close enough. Jamie grasped my arms, turned us in a circle until my back met the cool stone wall and his heat surrounded me. His lips trailed over my cheek and to my ear as he hooked a finger in the top of my glove and peeled it from my skin. Gently, he sucked my earlobe into his mouth as he removed my other glove. I made an inarticulate sound and entwined my fingers in his hair, my other hand exploring the hard muscles of his chest through the thin layer of his shirt.
His mouth returned to mine, questing. He pushed against me, our bodies perfectly flush. The heavy weight of him had me on the edge, on the precipice of losing control. But as much as I wanted to, I knew we’d both regret it if we didn’t stop.
I lifted my hand to his face, pulled my lips from his and murmured, “I don’t think we want to do this right now.”
Jamie drew back, disoriented, his breath ragged. I caressed his cheek, and he met my gaze before tucking me underneath his chin. We stayed that way for several seconds, and then he stooped and smoothed the layers of my rumpled skirt.
Retrieving my discarded gloves, he straightened and handed them to me before taking a step back. “I’m so verra sorry.” He shoved a shaky hand into his hair, and pushed the gold strands off his forehead. “I lost my head a bit. But I’ve the upmost respect for your virtue.”
“I know you do,” I whispered with a small smile, his remorse reminding me of the huge gaps between our cultures. A modern boy would likely accuse me of leading him on after I’d dragged him into a closet and didn’t deliver. But not my noble prince.
I took his hand. “We got carried away. It happens.”
“No’ to me it doesn’t.”
“What do you mean? It happens to us all the time.”
“I mean before you . . . before us.” He sighed. “I’d kissed plenty of girls.”
“Clearly.” I held no delusions that I’d been his first.
“But I dinna lose control. It’s not who I am.” He turned his head, staring past me.
“Jamie, I know exactly who you are. You’re one of the strongest, most disciplined people I know.” I touched his chin and tilted it so he’d meet my eyes. “But if you didn’t lose a wee bit of control with me, I’d be insulted.” I actually loved that I was the one thing that could make him forget himself.
He stared at me until a slow grin dawned across his face, white teeth flashing in the dark. “Aye.”
“Now, we better get back before we’re missed, and Fergus forces us to have a shotgun wedding.”
As we made our way back to the ball, Jamie asked, “Is a shotgun wedding what I think it is?”
“I’d imagine so.” We entered the hallway that lead to the ballroom, and I did a last check of my dress to make sure everything was in its proper place.
“Forced to marry at gunpoint because the couple went too far?”
“That would be it.”
Jamie was quiet so long I glanced in his direction.
His ardent gaze captured mine and wouldn’t let go. “No one would ever have to coerce me into marrying you, Verronica.”
I resisted the urge to fan my suddenly flaming face. This was a topic I’d avoided like a plague of Stephanie Heartford spray-tanned, cheer clones. Jamie’s antiquated value system had a flipside, one that compelled him to higher moral ground than I was ready to consider at the age of eighteen. And especially not tonight.
Seeming to sense my unease, Jamie chuckled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. “’Tis true. But we have plenty of time for that, eh?”
“Absolutely,” I replied with a decisive nod as we entered the ballroom. A series of chimes drew my attention to the ornate grandfather clock in the corner, and my stomach did a nauseating pirouette. Less than an hour.
I glanced up at Jamie’s profile. Even if I wasn’t ready for wedding bells just yet, his cool assurance that we would have more time after tonight — after the limbus was defeated and everything was back to normal — bolstered my confidence and calmed my nerves.
But then I saw something that stopped me in my tracks — the other looming disaster in our midst.
“What is it?” Jamie asked.
I tilted my head toward where Kenna and Duncan stood on the dance floor, as stiff-armed and fake-smiled as two crashtest dummies. “Their Calling is real, you know.”
“I suspected.” Jamie steered me toward the buffet table. “But my brother doesna talk to me about anythin’ of importance. At least, no’ anymore.”
I picked up a plate, and selected a few hors d’oeuvres at random. Jamie loaded his plate with at least one of everything and then paused. I followed the direction of his stare to Kenna and Duncan making painful progress around the room. I wondered if their dissention was as obvious to everyone as it was to us. “Neither one of them will ever be happy without the other, will they?”
“Likely no’.” He turned to me and tucked a loose curl behind my ear. “But I know another couple who was just as stubborn, not so verra long ago.”
“And we found our way to each other.”
Jamie’s eyes became thoughtful. “Sometimes all one needs is a bit of motivation.”
And with that, he set off in the direction of his brother. Knowing Jamie’s powers of persuasion first hand, I smiled at the purpose in his stride. Beware anyone who attempted to defy him when he fixed his mind to something.
A wave of dizziness swept over me and I gripped the edge of the table. Remembering that I needed to eat, I popped something into my mouth, but it tasted like glue and sawdust. The music changed tempo, and my eyes were drawn to the middle of the dance floor. Like a mash-up of a hoedown and a Riverdance, Doonian ladies hitched up their skirts and high stepped to the lively fiddle. Men kicked up their heels in abandon and swung their partners in the air. I even spotted a few of the Destined in the mix. Those not participating stopped what they were doing to clap and shout encouragement. Everywhere I looked, I was greeted by broad, carefree grins.
If Kenna and I didn’t destroy the limbus tonight, this could all be gone in a matter of days — the glorious melting pot of individuals, the village, the castle, the Auld Kirk, all of it. My eyes burned as they skipped around the room to Jamie’s golden head, Duncan’s broad back, Kenna, Fiona, Fergus, the Rosettis, and even Emily and Analisa. All the people I cared about were in this room, and all of them were relying on me, as their queen, to keep them safe.
I straightened my spine, set down my plate, and wiped my leaky eyes. I planned on living in this beautiful kingdom with my prince for a very long time. It didn’t matter what the limbus threw at us tonight. I reached into my pocket and found the pendant. There was one major difference between Queen Lynnette and myself — I was following the will of Doon’s Protector, and therefore, I would not fail.
CHAPTER 26
Mackenna
Many cultures have a version of Cinderella — ours has several. I was a fan of the Rogers and Hammerstein version myself. The fair maiden dressed as a princess makes her big entrance . . . the prince looks up . . . their eyes meet . . . and Bang! Crash! . . . Instalove, complete with a melodious duet.
In none o
f those stories does the maiden make such a mess of things that the couple can never recover. Never does she have to stand by while her dream guy waltzes away with some other, more exotic-looking maiden. Maybe the evil stepmother was right all along; love is a childish fancy.
I stepped into the ballroom prepared for the worst, but when the handsome prince’s gaze met mine across the crowded room . . . Bang! Crash! Just like in the fairy tales, we were compelled toward each other. The rest of the world fell away as Duncan’s crooked smile reeled me in. He always looked insanely gorgeous, but the sight of him in his dress kilt — gentleman on the top, clan warrior on bottom — stole the air from my lungs.
The admiration on his face made it even harder to breathe as he said, “I didna think it was possible for you to look any lovelier . . . But I was wrong.” He took a small step back and continued his appraisal. “I shall have fantasies about how you look in this moment.”
With a courtly bow, he reached for my hand and lifted it to his lips. Electric currents rippled from the kiss to fill my whole body with warmth — or was that the beginnings of a blush from his compliment?
After days of estrangement, Duncan was back to his old self. His behavior gave me the strength to harness my voice. “There’s something I need you to know — ”
“Me first.” He continued to hold my hand, the heat of his touch soaking into my skin. “The last time we attended a ball, I asked you not to leave. Do ye remember?”
Of course I remembered. I’d been so tempted to comply with his request. I suspected he was about to give me the opportunity to confess that I really did want to stay. That my heart had developed new dreams that eclipsed Broadway and if he gave me a second chance at happily ever after, I would spend the rest of my days making up for my mistakes.
“This time” — Duncan’s sweet smile pierced my consciousness — “I’ll ask nothing so foolish. I believe you were called back to Doon to stop the limbus, and that after ye save the kingdom — which’ll be soon — you’re to return to your own world.” His gaze flitted to Analisa as she waltzed by and then refocused somberly on me. “In fact, I’m countin’ on it.”
I jerked my hand away. “You’re counting on me leaving?”
“I know you, Mackenna.” His now empty fingers rose to caress my cheek. “You’re not of my world. And regardless of the pretty promises that fall from your lips, you’ll no’ stay where you don’t belong.”
I was speechless. Duncan’s fingertips brushed my jaw as the hope I’d allowed to grow since Vee’s pep talk withered into dust.
His dark eyes glittered with feverish excitement as he leaned closer. “Tonight is about saying good-bye to Doon. It’s our last time together in the ballroom — our last ball.”
The last midnight . . . Kaboom — splat! Giants came crashing down from the sky smashing all my hopes and dreams. And now I was about to get my last and very costly wish. He was leaving me alone.
“What did you need to say?” Duncan blinked at me, waiting.
None of the words that had been on the tip on my tongue moments ago mattered. Pasting what I hoped was a sincere smile on my face, I sputtered, “Just that — uh, you look a-mazing!”
He flashed me another grin. The gleam in his eyes made him seem almost maniacal. If we’d been in Chicago, I would’ve suspected he was on something. He bounced on the balls of his feet, prompting me to ask, “Are you okay?”
“Aye. Just keen to dance is all. Will you do me the honor?” He held out his hand for mine. When I complied, his other hand settled gently yet firmly on my waist. “If this is to be our last time, Mackenna, I’m eager to make it count.”
An hour passed in a whirl of crinoline and satin. While Duncan’s smile never faltered, something was off with him. He was alternately talkative and silent. For a song or two he’d be all but mute, as if reflecting on some private thought, and then he’d start chatting about random things: some life-changing book he’d read as a child, music lessons at the age of ten that’d not gone so well, the first time he and Jamie had secretly tried ale.
You’d never know by listening that this was a momentous occasion — our last ball together. I tried to look interested, but his stories were all from a long time ago. As I listened to some vaguely familiar tale about the time he’d slipped a frog into the back of his Latin tutor’s trousers, inspiration struck.
“I have an idea,” I said when he paused between boyhood anecdotes. The musicians were talking a break, except for a classical trio who were in the middle of a slow set. “Let’s ask each other one last question. Like truth or dare but without the dare.”
“So truth or truth?” His eyebrows lifted in question as his head tilted slightly like he was trying to figure out my angle. After a moment of scrutiny, his hesitance melted away. “Ladies first.”
This was what I was counting on. In case Vee and I failed to defeat the limbus tonight and I never saw him again — I needed some answers. “Did you know from the moment I appeared in Doon that we’d known each other as children?”
He continued to lead me across the floor, his face neutral, his velvet brown eyes carefully watching. “Aye.”
Dancing somehow made the conversion easier. Epic details became small talk. “I don’t even get how that works. We weren’t kids at the same time.”
“Callings are a mystery. They’re a divine gift.”
“How come you didn’t tell me you were Finn? My Finn.”
“You needed to remember for yourself and decide what significance, if any, it had for our present relationship. As much as I wanted to tell you, I couldna force the information on you.”
“That sounds like a cop-out. You should’ve told me.”
He frowned without missing a step. “Cop out?”
“A convenient excuse but not the whole truth.”
For at least a minute he was quiet in thought. During that time I was achingly aware of his hand at my waist, how his fingers moved against my hip bone in rhythm with the music. Occasionally his legs would brush mine against my skirts, causing tiny electric jolts to zing through me.
When he finally answered, his words were difficult to hear. “The truth is . . . I was scared. Scared if I told you, you’d feel even more trapped — like I was taking away your choice. Afraid the truth would give you more reason to run away.”
“I didn’t run away.”
“Didn’t ye?”
Totally unfair. I knew Duncan would never be happy in the modern world the way he was in Doon. Still, I deserved to know before I . . . left him. “You should have told me.”
“Aye.” The song ended and Duncan stopped moving. While other couples took advantage of the break to eat or get some air, we stood rooted to our spot. Duncan regarded me gravely. “Time for my last question. Tell me this, Mackenna, what would ye have done with it — the knowledge that I was your Finn? Would the knowledge have changed your course?”
Vee’s words echoed through my head. If I couldn’t be brave with her or Duncan, could I at least be honest with myself?
Would knowledge of Finn have made a difference? Would I have stayed? Or not abandoned him on the bridge? I wanted to tell myself that it would’ve made all the difference. But some still small voice deep inside told me that it wouldn’t have changed anything.
This sudden revelation did not make me want to sing “Kum ba yah.” In contrast, my heart pinched, and I wanted to throw something. The truth sucked asphalt!
Duncan and I stood in the middle of the now empty floor. Instead of answering, I replied, “I guess we’ll never know. Will we?”
And then I walked away.
Without a clear destination in mind, I found myself near the pastry table. Not that I subconsciously wanted to indulge a sweet tooth — far from it. But the odds of encountering my bestie greatly increased if éclairs were part of the equation. Unfortunately, the only people in the immediate vicinity were the Rosetti twins, who appeared to be competing to see who could stuff the most cream puffs into their m
outh at one time.
When I glanced around the room for Vee, I noticed that Duncan had been detained by his brother. Jamie gripped Duncan’s arm while he spoke in a quick and determined manner. Although I was too far away to hear what was being said, I could tell from the younger prince’s Grumpy Cat expression that the brotherly talk was unwelcomed.
Without warning Duncan hauled off and punched his brother in the mouth. Jamie staggered back in shock as a small trickle of blood glistened in the corner of his lips. Shock quickly morphed into fury when Duncan showed no remorse for his actions.
The entire ballroom fell silent as they watched the sibling drama unfold. With a growl, Jamie launched himself at Duncan and socked him in the eye. Duncan lurched to the side but recovered quickly and drove his fist into Jamie’s ribcage, sending him sprawling. Before Jamie could retaliate, Fergus, the older Rosetti boys, and half a dozen other men I recognized but couldn’t name were pulling the MacCrae brothers apart.
Duncan shoved at those attempting to restrain him. After knocking four men to the ground, he used a crack-the-whip maneuver on the Rosettis. Turning in quick circles he slingshotted Rosetti boys in all directions. When he was free, he turned and stalked away.
Jamie watched his brother’s exit as Fergus hoisted him to his feet. Murmuring “I’m fine,” he rubbed at his bleeding lip. Whatever anger his brother’s assault had sparked was already gone.
As the room returned to normal, Vee crossed to Jamie. During the fight, Eòran had kept her back out of harm’s way. For the first time since my return, I was grateful for Mutton Chops’ Inspector Javert-like dedication to his duty.
Vee took Jamie’s marred face between her hands and surveyed the damage. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be disfigured for life, she gingerly kissed the undamaged side of his mouth. With quiet words and a few more doting kisses, she encouraged him to go off with Doc Benoir.
As soon as Jamie was occupied, Vee scanned the room. Her gaze locked on mine and she gave me a nearly imperceptible nod. The message “It’s time” whispered through our shared brain. She casually strolled to the doors that led to the gardens. The second Eòran looked away, she slipped outside.