Destined for Doon (5 page)
Fiona squeezed my shoulder. “Ye did a fine job, Veronica. Now do tha’ a few more times, and we can be done for the day.”
When I closed my robe and placed the crown back on my head, the weight pressed into my skull, giving me an instant headache. I straightened my spine and ignored the pain. One down, and “a few” more to go. I could do this.
Fergus bowed deeply, but when he straightened an impish smile curled his lips. “Laird Jamie MacCrae seeks an audience with Her Majesty.”
I sucked in a breath and my prince stepped through the door, bringing the light of the sun with him. As he strode toward me, I soaked in his powerful form, from his fitted leather pants tucked into tall boots to his forest-green tunic stretched across broad shoulders. All the time he’d spent training outdoors looked good on him. When he reached the dais, he shoved the strands of honey-blond hair off his forehead and flashed a dimpled grin, the white of his teeth in stark contrast to the golden tan of his skin. My heart mamboed a quick rhythm in my chest.
Jamie swept into a low bow, a leather bag tucked underneath his arm. “Queen Verranica, I come bearing gifts.”
“What? No grievance, my lord?” I teased.
“Only that Her Majesty doesna have enough time for her favorite subject.” His dark eyes twinkled, one corner of his mouth tilting. “But I’ve come to remedy that travesty with an offering.”
Although we’d officially been a couple for several months, after everything we’d struggled through to be together I was still astonished that Jamie MacCrae was mine. Maybe that explained the acrobatics going on in my belly, and why every one of my nerve endings strained toward him. But he was still Jamie, the boy with a bit too much confidence for his own good. So I tilted my chin and gave him a superior smirk. “Who says I have a favorite subject? I vow to remain supremely objective, no matter what bribery you offer, sir.”
“We shall see about that.” His warm brown eyes danced with a mixture of humor and devilry. “A little birdy told me . . . or perhaps no’ such a little birdy.” Jamie threw a glance over his shoulder at Fergus, then turned back to me and winked. “Told me ye were a bit uncomfortable in your royal regalia.”
As if to punctuate his sentence, the enormous crown on my head toppled to the side and caught on the skin of my ear still raw from the last fall. I winced. Fiona took the torturous piece of metal and placed it in its velvet-lined box before curtsying to Jamie. “My laird.”
“Fiona.” Jamie bent in a cursory bow as Fiona glided past him and out of the room. At her gesture, Fergus and the remaining guards followed her, leaving us blessedly alone.
A true grin, the first one I’d felt in days, broke across my face as I swept the cumbersome cloak off my shoulders and flew into Jamie’s arms. He squeezed me against the hard expanse of his chest, my feet lifting off the floor. I nuzzled into the warmth of his neck where it sloped into his shoulder, breathing in his distinct scent of the air before a storm. “I’ve missed you,” I whispered as he put me down and cradled my cheek in his palm.
“And I, you.” His gaze swept down the length of my aqua blue dress, and then back up to my face. “Lovely dress. Is that new?”
I nodded as I rose on my toes and brushed my lips against his, the room spinning around me as I lingered, my fingertips skimming the firm, silky stubble on his cheek.
People are waiting for me, right? Yes, I’m the queen now . . . responsibilities and all that.
With great effort, I pulled away, but the moment I did Jamie’s hand cupped the back of my neck. He lowered his mouth to mine, his lips and tongue performing a seductive dance that washed every thought from my head. Both his hands tangled in my hair as he deepened the kiss. I stood on my toes, pressing against the strong, solid heat of him, wishing I could get closer.
“Arrrhmm.”
With agonizing reluctance, I slid my lips from Jamie’s. I must have looked as off balance as I felt, because he smiled into my eyes and kept an arm around me as we turned to see Fergus leaning into the room around the half-open door.
The giant’s cheeks were a kaleidoscope of pink and red. “Excuse me . . . er . . . my laird. Yer Majesty, ye have several people awaitin’ an audience.”
“Give us five minutes, Fergus,” Jamie replied before I could respond.
With a quick nod, Fergus pulled back and shut the door.
“Now, where were we?” Jamie growled.
“No way.” I ducked out from under his arm and skipped away. I glanced pointedly at the leather bag that had fallen at his feet. “Didn’t you say something about a gift?”
He snatched up the sack and quirked a mysterious grin. “Tha’ I did.”
He untied the cord on the leather satchel, and what he removed made me gasp in wonder. It was a circlet of silver, so delicate it looked as if it could easily snap in his large fingers. But when he held it out, I could see by the intricate weave of
silvery branches that the construction was solid. Leaves, dotted with tiny green jewels and what appeared to be amethyst and topaz flowers, caught and reflected the light.
“Oh, Jamie, it’s exquisite!” He set it lightly in my hands. “Where did you get it?” As far as I knew, the ceremonial crown I’d worn that day was what the queen had worn for generations.
“T’was my mother’s favorite. She couldna stand that beast of a crown either.” The light seemed to leave his face, his gaze fixated beyond me to somewhere in the past. “Before she passed, she gave it to me, to give to
my
queen someday.”
When he focused back on me, the temporary grief was replaced by something as hopeful as a summer sky. “May I put it on you?”
“Please.” I handed it back to him. “I wish I had gotten the chance to know her.” A little tear opened inside me. If Jamie’s mother were still here, I could have had a role model to help groom and prepare me for what was ahead — instead of being thrust head first into a duty I was so pitifully unprepared to face. And just maybe I could have shown her that I was worthy of her son, and her kingdom.
Jamie set the circlet upon my head and it settled on with comfortable ease, as if it had some magical property that made it mold to each queen who wore it. I stood a little straighter, held my head a little higher, feeling connected to the woman whose shoes I was trying so desperately to fill.
My prince brushed a length of hair behind my shoulder, his hand lingering on my back as he searched my eyes. “She’s here with you in spirit, Verranica. Dinna ever doubt — ”
A crash, followed by shouts, sounded from the outer corridor. Jamie spun and pushed me behind him just as the door slammed open.
“Where is she?” a ragged voice bellowed.
“Gregory, what’s happened?” Jamie’s voice was like smooth-edged steel.
A horrific groan echoed through the chamber. My curiosity propelled me around the protective barrier of my knight’s body, and my jaw almost hit the floor. A man staggered toward us, his right hand thrust out before him. Like something straight out of a horror movie, gory bits of flesh hung in ragged shreds off of the exposed bones of his fingers. Dark red spattered his clothes and soaked the remaining fabric of his sleeve. I choked back a gag. Two sword-wielding guards followed behind the man with wide, terrified eyes, clearly afraid the grotesque degeneration of the man’s arm might be catching.
“It . . . it took my brother!”
Bile rose in my throat at the agony in the man’s voice and the implication in his words. I prayed he wasn’t saying what I thought he was saying.
“It’s her, I tell ye! This dark magic is all her doing!” His eyes swiveled in his head like a wild horse before locking in on my face. “Yer nothing but a queen of the damned!”
“Guards, seize him!” Jamie commanded. The guards glanced at each other and shook their heads.
Jamie edged over to block me from view, but as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t hide behind his strength. I moved around him and took several steps toward the injured man.
Keeping my attention away from the melting flesh of his arm, I begged, “Sir,
please
tell us what happened so we can help you.” I stopped and reached an open palm in his direction to show I was unafraid. The man hesitated, his frantic gaze shifting from me to Jamie, who poised at my side like a tiger ready to spring.
Gregory’s posture seemed to wilt as he reached a shaking arm across his body to clutch the bicep of his injured limb.
Green eyes spilling over with tears, he began to speak. “Drew and I were choppin’ trees by the northern border . . . and . . . carrying them to the river ta be sent to the mill, but . . . but . . .” He trembled so hard every word was a struggle. “But his end dropped and . . . and he was just gone, sucked into . . . nothing. I went to the spot where he disappeared. I could see his shadow and I reached out, but . . . it hurt so terribly, the very air eating the flesh from my arm.” He paused and his entire body began to convulse, his voice catching on a sob. “He was screaming som-somethin’ terr-rrible, but I pull-lled back. I . . . I couldna ss-save him.”
Jamie stepped forward just as the man collapsed, catching him before he hit the stone floor. He cradled the man’s head against his bent knee and ordered the guards to send for Doc Benoir. Both men rushed from the room and several Doonians spilled through the door followed by Fergus. Blood streamed from his temple, and Fiona attempted to prop the giant up with her shoulder.
I met Jamie’s somber gaze and saw my own horror reflected on his face. What we’d feared most had happened — the erosion of the borders had taken its first human life.
My only hope was that together, my BFF and I could pull off another miracle.
Oh God,
I prayed,
please let Kenna get here soon!
I
stood off to one side as Duncan tipped the Alloway driver generously. Since his first “horseless carriage” ten months ago, he’d become an expert at traveling by taxi. Despite the late hour, we’d decided to skip my aunt’s cottage and go straight to the bridge. My companion was anxious to get back to his kingdom . . . and away from me. He’d made that much as clear as the Phantom of the Opera’s high-pitched tenor.
As the taxi’s taillights disappeared into the night, he turned to me. “Ready?”
When I nodded, he reached into his pocket and produced a pair of rings. Not just any rings, but the ones that would open the bridge portal between my world and his so that we could cross into the Kingdom of Doon. He slipped the gold and ruby one onto the tip of his pinky finger as far as it would go. According to Fiona Fairshaw, who had special insight into the supernatural realms, the Rings of Aontacht chose their owners and not the other way around. If that were true, the gold and
ruby one had chosen my best friend Veronica. And my uncle Cameron’s silver and emerald one had chosen me.
Duncan offered me Cameron’s ring, and for an instant my treacherous heart imagined he was going to drop on bended knee. Thankfully he did not assume the proposal position, but extended his hand with the ring cradled in his palm. Doing my best Chuck from
Pushing Daisies
impression, I gingerly picked up the ring while avoiding any actual skin-to-skin contact.
An awkward moment followed. Given the colossal importance of what we were about to do, it would have been natural to hold hands. Heck, it might even be necessary to activate the rings like the Wonder Twins . . .
form of a hostile Scottish prince, shape of a girl who’s blown her shot at happily ever after
.
Before handholding became too tempting an option, I started across the bridge — alone. The minute I stepped onto the cobbled stones, an unbearable stench assaulted me — like rotting meat, decomposing plants, stagnant swamp, and sunbaked garbage all rolled into one odor straight from the pits of hell. Nose burning, eyes watering, I backpedaled, bumping into Duncan in my efforts to get away from the stink.
The prince’s arms encircled me as I tried to get off the bridge. Thrashing out of his grasp, I stumbled off of the stone path and collapsed into the cool grass of the riverbank. My throat burned as I gulped in ragged breaths of fresh air. My body shuddered as my stomach dredged up my afternoon venti mocha.
Suddenly Duncan was kneeling beside me. With one hand he held back my hair while the other kept me from collapsing in my own puke. After an indeterminable bout of dry heaving, I rolled away from the mess and flopped onto my back, shivering.
Duncan’s scowling face loomed over me. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” My voice sounded raw, so weak it was hard to hear over the whooshing sound of the blood in my ears. “Something’s wrong with the bridge. There’s an awful stench, like — ”
“Like what?”
“Death.” My teeth chattered as another bout of shivers racked my body. “I know it doesn’t make any sense, but it reminded me of death.”
Duncan stood and walked to where the grass bordered the ancient stones of the bridge. He glanced at the ring on his pinky, as if assuring himself that he still wore it, before scanning our surroundings. Streetlamps illuminated both sides of the riverbank at precise intervals with golden spheres of light. Only the center of the bridge remained in shadow. “I dinna see anything.”
I struggled into a sitting position. My body complained, like it’d been steamrollered by sumo wrestlers. “Do you smell anything?”
“Nay.” He cautiously took a step on the Brig o’ Doon as I cried out a warning. But he only shook his head. “I don’t sense anything.”
“I’m not lying about this.”
“I dinna say you were.” He continued to stare at the opposite riverbank, but with his back to me I couldn’t read his face.
I forced myself to my feet. Lightning fast, Duncan turned and was by my side helping me up. The temptation to sag against him, if only for a moment of reassurance, was strong. But before I could act, he let go.
He crossed to the edge of the grass and I followed, careful not to come in contact with the stone pathway. The riverbank on the opposite end of the Brig o’ Doon looked normal. The air was fresh, and I felt none of the terror that had gripped me
moments before. Perhaps I had hallucinated it? Like an extreme stress reaction or something . . .