Forever Doon Read online

  I waited until Fergus left the tent so I could speak to my brother alone. Jamie stood behind a makeshift table of weapons, cleaning them. I joined him, picking up a small dirk and sharpening the blade with a whetstone. When I finished I replaced that dagger and picked up another.

  “Mackenna and I are nearly ready to leave for the Brig o’ Doon.” My brother and the queen were to accompany us, not only so that Veronica could open the portal, but also to test the Calling between our lasses once we’d crossed. It would be extremely beneficial if they could communicate with one another as needed. “I’m wondering what to do about the auld man.”

  Whatever fault made Jamie blind to himself, he was an excellent judge of character where others were concerned. Pausing in his work, he turned to me. “I believe Alasdair’s on our side.” He went on to tell me about the conversation my kinsman had had with Queen Veronica at the skeleton field.

  “Shall we leave him here then?”

  “Aye.” Jamie nodded.

  “The fewer people to cross the bridge, the better,” I replied.

  “An’ Mabel?”

  At the mention of my beloved horse, I frowned. “What of her?”

  “Will you bring her back wi’ ye?” Jamie asked casually.

  “Nay.” I’d given the matter much thought during my time in Alloway. Mabel was the one creature I could keep safe; therefore, she would stay behind under the meticulous care of our solicitors.

  Changing the subject, I opened my sporran, selected the MacCrae family ring, and presented it to Jamie. “I thought ye might want this back,” I said.

  As he stared at the lion-headed ring in the palm of my hand, he flinched. For several moments he stood by in silence, lost in thought.

  At length he said, “I want you to have it.”

  “Nay.” I made to give him the ring, but he snatched his hand away like I held a burning coal. “That ring is meant for a ruler, a king . . . not for me.” Intending to put an end to the discussion, he resumed weapon cleaning.

  “So what? You’re no longer royalty? You’re the firstborn MacCrae and your intended is the queen. I think that more than qualifies you ta wear it.”

  Jamie shook his head. “If you knew what I’ve done, you’d think otherwise.”

  “Then tell me about it.”

  Still avoiding my gaze, Jamie lay the sword on the table. “We should leave for the bridge.”

  He tried to step around me, but I blocked his path. “When it comes to advice, you’re all bum and parsley.” He glared at me to back off, but I persisted. If Jamie was to have any chance of moving forward—to heal—he would have to face his demons. “I see the wedge you’re driving between yourself and the queen.”

  His body stiffened, telling me that I’d struck a nerve. Avoiding my eyes, he said flatly, “She deserves better ‘n me.”

  “So that’s it, then—you’re just going ta freeze her out. You want ta see her with Murray? King Ewan—has a nice ring to it, dinna ye think?”

  Coiling like a lion about to pounce, he growled, “Get out of my way, Duncan.”

  I stepped aside and then turned to regard his retreating form. Just before he reached the tent entrance, I said, “All hail, King Ewan!”

  With a sound more like a bull than a lion, Jamie spun around and charged. Before I could brace for impact, I was flat on my back with my brother’s fists pummeling me.

  Snaking a hand around his throat, I rolled until I was on top of him. Normally with my size advantage and his quickness, we were evenly matched, but his raging emotions made him wild, allowing me to stay out of his reach as I squeezed just enough to subdue him. The instant he stopped struggling, I let go.

  “Now, canna we—” Jamie’s fist connected with my diaphragm, knocking the breath out from underneath my words. Squirming onto his stomach, he started to crawl away, but I grabbed ahold of his boot. He kicked back, narrowly missing my jaw with his free foot.

  Pulling him toward me, I rammed a fist into his head and anchored a knee in the small of his back, pinning his arms. As I loosened my grip, he started to roll out from under me. I scrambled after him, putting him in a headlock before he could get away.

  As boys, I spent many a fight on the receiving end of Jamie’s headlocks, and as much as one might think to the contrary, it gave me no pleasure to turn the tables. “Now I’ve something to say and you’re goin’ to listen.” I tightened my grip as he struggled in vain to get free. “I canna claim ta know what happened when ye were Adelaide’s prisoner, but I see the demons you’re carrying around because of it.

  “You have to find a way ta let them go. For the sake of our kingdom. For Veronica’s sake—because she needs you. And for your own sake.”

  “You dinna understand.”

  “Then help me,” I pleaded. Jamie had stopped struggling, but I dared not let up. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I did things . . . things I thought I’d never do. There’s blood on my hands and I canna get them clean.” He sobbed a single dry heave. “I don’t deserve ta be king and I certainly dinna deserve Verranica.”

  “What about what she deserves? Does she no’ deserve to be with the lad she loves?”

  He grunted in answer.

  “And what about what you deserve?” Slowly, I released my hold. As I suspected, the fight had left him and he didn’t move. “Don’t ye deserve forgiveness? And happiness?”

  “Not anymore.” He shook his head and I moved to face him.

  “I know you, brother. Whatever you’ve done, ye had your reasons.”

  He looked up, the pain in his eyes hard to witness. “I had a choice, Duncan, a moment in time when I could’ve . . . should’ve made the right decision and I failed.”

  “Right or no’, you’re entitled ta forgiveness. Stop punishin’ yourself.”

  “How?”

  “Start by takin’ your own advice. Tell Veronica everythin’. Do not let this darkness come between you.”

  After a moment, his jaw hardened and he straightened his shoulders. “Ye’re right, I need to face the consequences o’ my actions and let my queen decide.”

  I opened my hand, where I still held his ring. “Will ye take this now?”

  With a tight nod, he lifted it from my palm. Although he slipped the ring into his pocket instead of putting it on, his acceptance of the imperial symbol heartened me.

  He stood and extended a hand to help me to my feet. “My thanks, bráthair. I know what I need ta do now.” He clasped a hand on my shoulder. “After we see ye off at the Brig o’ Doon, I’ll find a way to tell Verranica the truth. All of it.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Veronica

  Mending one’s cloak didn’t seem like the best use of time when others prepared for battle all around me, but I found the mindless kinetic activity calming. Even if I sucked at it. I stared at the uneven stitches tugging the gaping edges of the rough-hewn fabric together, and inexplicable tears stung my throat. Addie had torn a hole in Jamie, one I had no idea how to fix.

  We were headed into a fight that we may not survive, but instead of facing it as a united front, the gap between us grew wider by the day. I needed him whole and by my side. Puncturing the fabric, I yanked the thread up and then down again, tugging tight. If only I could bring Jamie and me back together so easily.

  “Will ye please come with me, Yer Majesty?” I started and pricked my finger, blood surging in a scarlet bead. I stuck it in my mouth and glanced up to find Gabby Rosetti’s pale green eyes sparkling with mischief.

  The girl likely had some diversion planned and I’m sure she meant well, but I had a million and one things on my to-do list; after I finished sewing my cloak, I had a meeting with Oliver to discuss a strategy for his explosive devices, then target/self-defense practice with Ana, followed by a gathering to resolve several disputes that had cropped up around camp. I took my stinging finger out of my mouth. “Thank you, but I can’t—”

  Before I could finish, Sofia appeared and took my arm, liftin
g me to my feet. The girl was tiny, but mighty when she set her mind to something. “Queen Veronica, Prince Jamie has requested your presence.”

  My gut clenched. Jamie’s unpredictability made me nervous, and I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I’d been avoiding him.

  “And we’re ta prepare ye!” Gabby took my other arm and tugged me away from the fire circle.

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean, prepare me?”

  Gabby squeezed my arm and whispered, “ ’Tis a surprise.”

  We entered the laundry tent, where huge pots of clothing boiled over a fire, the scents of lye and pine coating my throat. I raised my hand to cover a cough. Women scrubbed fabric against washboards and then dunked them into the vats, stirring with long poles. Lines were strung above our heads, draped with clothing of all shapes and sizes in various states of dampness. The laundry shelter had been set up to protect our clothes from the frequent rain showers. Doc Benior had advised that dry clothes were essential to keeping illness at bay.

  “Ma, did ye find what we requested?” Sofia asked.

  Sharron Rosetti appeared, swiped a strand of sweaty, gray-blonde hair off her forehead and grinned. “That, I did.” Then she hustled away.

  “Sofia, what’s going on?” I hated surprises. In my experience, they never turned out well.

  “Here it is!” Mrs. Rosetti said in a singsong voice as she held out two garments—something that resembled a short sundress in a faded plaid and a pair of lacy pantaloons in a matching seafoam green.

  “What in the heck is that?” I yelped.

  The Rosetti sisters giggled, but didn’t explain.

  “Oh, and I found the matching bonnet!” Sharron said in triumph as she pulled a ruffled cap from her pocket. She leaned in and whispered, “Embrace this second chance ye’ve been given.”

  I wanted to. I really did, but apprehension squeezed my chest and stilted my breath. At first, it had been enough that Jamie lived. Now I worried the boy I’d fallen in love with was gone forever. And since he wouldn’t talk about what he’d gone through, I had no clue how to help him. To reassure the woman who’d become like a mother to me, I pasted a smile on my face, thanked her, and accepted the weird outfit.

  Once we were outside, I hissed, “Please don’t tell me this is the Doonian version of lingerie.”

  That elicited further giggles as we entered the teepee we shared. “Don’t be such a prude, Ver—I mean, my queen,” Gabriela admonished.

  I had to laugh at that. These girls would faint dead if they saw modern-day underwear, or swimsuits for that matter. And then it hit me—the garments were vintage swimwear! What was Jamie thinking? The weather had turned a bit warmer, but low sixties with a cool breeze was by no means swimming weather.

  Blasted Scotsman!

  His audacity reminding me of the Jamie I knew, I deciding to play along by wearing the swimsuit, but rejected the hideous cap. The girls helped finger-comb my hair and then wound the waist-length strands into a loose bun on top of my head. Wishing I had a mirror, I glanced from my bare legs up to the lace-edged shorts and the A-line plaid dress, fitted in the waist and bodice. It looked a bit like a ballet tutu with frilly spanks underneath. I felt ridiculous.

  Gabby clapped her hands together beneath her chin and exclaimed, “Ye look lovely!”

  “Please don’t make me wear this. I’ll meet Jamie wherever he wants, but if he sees me in this, he won’t be able to stop laughing.”

  “My friend.” Sofia grasped my shoulders and stared me in the eye. “In our world, this is considered provocative. Believe me when I tell ye, Jamie will no’ laugh.”

  Extremely grateful that my BFF was not around to crack Ethel Merman jokes, I allowed them to slip fur-line moccasins on my feet and a light cloak over my shoulders. I was ready, but trepidation still rolled through me at the thought of being alone with Jamie for the first time since his return.

  Gabby exited the tent. As Sofia followed, I reached for her hand to stop her. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  She turned. Her wide, dark eyes examined my face and her expression sobered. “Of course.” After telling Gabby she’d meet her later, she joined me back inside the shaded warmth of the teepee.

  “You dinna want to go?” As usual, the girl saw more than I’d intended.

  “I . . .” Instead of answering, I asked, “Where’s Eòran?”

  “I’ve occupied him elsewhere. Ye need this time alone.” She cocked her head. “Or are ye afraid?”

  “It’s not that . . .” I turned and faced the fire, not wanting her to read the pain on my face. “Since Jamie came back he’s . . . he’s not the same. It’s like something is eating him up from the inside . . . turning him into someone I don’t even know. He can be fine one moment and then something triggers a change and he snaps. I never know which Jamie I’m going to get, moment by moment, and it makes me . . . leery of being alone with him.”

  “Veronica, when you first came here—to Doon—ye were broken, were ye not?”

  I thought back to the abandoned, insecure girl who’d crossed the bridge looking to escape the pain of her life. She was right. This place, the miracles I’d experienced, and Jamie’s love had healed me. But it had taken many ups and downs. Just a short time ago, in Indiana, I’d had a hard time accepting that men weren’t all like my father—that they wouldn’t leave when things got hard. Jamie had said he would choose me no matter what the future held. That he would choose me over and over until I understood that he always would.

  Unable to speak around the scorching in my chest, I faced my wise friend.

  “He’s hurting, Vee. I’ve known him all my life and I’ve never seen him like this either. But I ha’ to believe the Jamie we know and love can return to us.”

  My eyes stung and I couldn’t be sure if they were tears of hope or shame. It was my turn to choose him. To show him that, despite his broken places, I wouldn’t give up. That I would do whatever it took to heal him. To heal us.

  I pulled Sofia close and hugged her tight. “You’re so right. I have to show him that I haven’t lost faith in him. Thank you, my friend.”

  She pulled back and met my gaze, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “Dinna let the witch win this battle. The great love you share is worth fighting for.”

  Then I remembered—in the confusion of the last Centennial, Sofia’s Called soul mate hadn’t crossed the bridge. She’d lost her chance to find her own great love. Silently, I vowed that when this was all over, I’d find a way to complete her Calling. But for now, I needed to fix my own. “I’ll do whatever it takes, I promise.”

  The path Sofia sent me down wound through the trees, past the witch’s property, and through a rock tunnel. I heard the water before I saw it, a rush and splash like a fountain. No longer caring about my earlier fears or my strange swimwear, I picked up speed.

  When I emerged, a gasp escaped my lips. Jamie sat in a milky-blue pool, bare-chested to his waist, arms outstretched on the rocky ledges to either side. Clusters of candles drove back the darkening sky and steam rose off the water in tendrils, forming a sheer curtain between us. It was a geothermal hot tub.

  “Hello, love.” Jamie smiled, drawing a dimple out in his right cheek. “Will ye join me?”

  The sight of his half-nakedness, all golden skin and rounded muscle, had me fidgeting with the toggle on my cloak. He was male beauty personified, and I looked like a clown from the Mesozoic era. I shifted my eyes up to the rock walls stretching around us, the only break a narrow opening where water fell over the side and into the stream below. “I had no idea hot springs existed in Doon.”

  “ ’Tis the only one, that I’m aware of. It’s so close to the witch’s cottage that most Doonians avoid it.”

  “It’s . . . amazing,” I said, tucking my cloak tighter around my waist as a cool breeze blew down the tunnel behind me.

  “Even better if ye get in. I promise I won’t bite.”

  I studied him. His right hand
clenched into a fist, his bicep flexing. Despite his smiles and casual words, he radiated tension and a bit of my trepidation returned.

  “Considerin’ my brother near pounded my mule head into the ground this afternoon, this location is somewhat o’ a necessity for my sore muscles.” He rubbed his shoulder, temporarily covering the intricate loops of his tattoo.

  For the first time, I noticed the dark shadow on his jaw. And there was an even darker smudge on his pectoral muscle—black, like an open wound. Concerned, I dropped my cloak and laid it next to his on a nearby rock shelf.

  Jamie stood, water cascading over his bare skin as he extended his hand.

  Knowing he, like most Scotsmen, had little modesty, I breathed a sigh of relief to see he wore a pair of cut-off trousers.

  I dipped my toe into the steaming water and watched his eyes glaze over as they flowed up my bare legs. I almost laughed, realizing Sofia had been right about my antiquated swimwear.

  As I stepped all the way in, delicious warmth enveloped me like a blanket, relaxing my muscles. The bottom of the pool was smooth, slippery rock. I clutched Jamie’s hand harder as he led me over to a ridge that served as a seat. Raising my head to thank him, I froze in horror. Eye-level with his chest, what I’d thought was a wound stared back at me with a black, serpentine stare. I swallowed a gasp and lifted my finger to trace the impression in his flesh of the snake swallowing its own tail.

  He grasped my hand and tugged it to his right arm, where I felt an indentation around his bicep. “The witch’s brands.”

  My gaze shifted to the identical serpent circling his arm. I couldn’t breathe. She’d marked him. Burned her symbol into his flesh. He pulled me down to sit beside him and the water slid around us like a living organism.

  Gently, he lifted my chin with the tips of his fingers and his solemn eyes melted into mine. “There is much I need ta tell ye, and I want ye to know that after I’m finished ye will have a choice.” His gaze cut away as he lowered his hand from my face.