medieval Calvin Klein ad—only with more clothing. And when the both of them smiled, I felt the resulting swoon deep in my girly parts.
Speaking of swooning, Vee blinked dreamily up at Jamie. “And Fiona doesn’t feel the same way.”
“Nay, she’s crazy about him too.” Duncan pulled the focus back to himself, but not before I noticed Jamie’s posture shift slightly away from Vee. “But he’ll not have an easy time of winning her.”
“Winning her?” While I wasn’t a brainiac like Vee, I didn’t typically need water wings in the shallow end. I was obviously missing something. “She’s not a prize turkey. If they like each other, why don’t they just talk it out? Honesty is the foundation of a healthy relationship.”
“That’s what I was saying to Jamie this very morning.” Duncan propped his chin on his fist, batting his lashes and favoring me with a disarming smile. His twinkling eyes drew me in like a magnetic force field. Imaginary music swelled, filling the tavern with the sweet love ballad of Christine and Raoul from
Unable to look away, I squirmed in my chair and sent Vee mental smoke signals. She reached across the table and lightly touched Duncan’s forearm. “Is Fergus any relation to Kenna’s uncle, Cameron Lockhart?”
For a moment, he appeared confused by Vee’s touch. But he quickly recovered and favored her with a million-watt smile that abruptly silenced the romantic melody in my head. “Aye. Cameron Lockhart was Fergus’s mother’s cousin. But he and his bride left Doon the year before Fergus was born.”
While Vee chewed thoughtfully at her lip, Jamie scowled at the juncture where her pale hand rested against his brother’s coppery skin. A barely audible growl rumbled up from his chest. Vee glanced toward the noise, noticed the murderous expression on Jamie’s face, and snatched her hand away as if stung.
Recognizing my cue to play rescuer, I quickly improvised. “But if Cameron left Doon more than fifty years ago and Fergus is—what, early twenties?—how does it work?” I was sooo not a math girl. On my best days, I struggled to add and subtract double digits.
Mario, the proprietor and import from Italy, paused in his task of clearing the table adjacent to ours. “If I may,
If I passed Mario on the street, I would’ve placed him in his late thirties or early forties—not in the hundreds. Yet he stood before us like the Italian cross between a Roman immortal and the old woman who lived in a shoe with all those kids.
Vee waved her hand, apparently unsatisfied with the breezy explanation. “But there must be some logical explanation.”
Vee turned to Duncan who, in turn, gestured to his brother. Cautiously, Jamie turned toward her and answered, “There’s no exact formula for matching the passage of time in Doon to the outside world, but it moves at approximately one-fourth the pace and can have a variable of eight years.”
Plunging into the mental deep in the prince’s wake, Vee hypothesized, “So, the Brig o’ Doon opens once each hundred years in the outside world, but it happens approximately every twenty-one to twenty-nine years in this realm?”
“Tha’s right. We call it the Centennial as a reminder of the passage of time in the world from whence we came.”
Vee turned to me, her eyes shining with the power of knowledge. “That answers a lot of our questions, doesn’t it?”
They’d been her questions, not mine, but the point wasn’t important enough to debate. Instead, I swung my head back and forth and reveled in gleeful ignorance. “Nope. Afraid it’s all Geek to me.”
As patient as Mother Teresa, Vee explained, “It’s like a sale where shoes normally cost $79.99 but are thirty percent off—you have to round up or down to get even sums. Because we’re in an alternate realm, it doesn’t match exactly. Like how we have leap year every four years to make time fit.”
“So you’re saying time
Before I could celebrate, Duncan leaned forward. His confidence had been replaced by an eagerness that made him seem as awkward as a freshman on his first date. “It’s common that those who’re led to Doon have visions or dreams about the kingdom prior to coming. Did either of you dream of Doon while ye were still in the modern world?”
Vee and I exchanged a cautionary look, wondering how much to divulge, when Jamie suddenly shoved his plate away and stood to tower over the rest of the table. While his words were meant for our conversation, there appeared to be some cryptic significance directed at Duncan. “Dreams have always played an important role for our people. We believe the Protector speaks to us through waking visions and dreams—
Duncan straightened in his chair, all traces of his easygoing disposition gone as he glared back at his older brother. “It would be a mistake not to trust the gift ye’ve been given.”
“Agree to disagree then. ’Tis late. Fergus and Fiona will be waitin’ for us.” Jamie put an end to the discussion as he turned stiffly to Mario and thanked him for the hospitality.
Undeterred by Jamie’s petulant mood, Mario kissed him on both cheeks. “Shall I send for the carriage, m’ laird?”
“Nay.” Duncan stood, pausing to roll the kinks out of his linebacker shoulders. “It’s a beautiful night. We’ll walk ‘round.
Throughout dinner, I’d noticed Duncan’s flawless Italian. The way his lips moved, his easy cadence. When he rolled his
Mario kissed my cheeks and then Vee’s, saying, “
Despite being summer, a light wind brushed over me, coaxing little goose bumps across my skin. I did my best to ignore the sudden chill and focus on my impression of the village after dark. The lit lampposts cast an amber glow over the cobbled street, like a set from
Arm in arm, Vee and I strolled down the main street until Duncan stepped up to my free side. Giving my arm a quick squeeze, Vee veered away and picked up her pace. Jamie, back to his Emo Stalker routine, trailed several paces behind.
With a low sigh of contentment, Duncan matched his gait to mine. “Mario’s a lucky man.”
“He might be, but his poor wife …”
Duncan stopped, his face hidden in shadow. “What’s your meaning?”
As Vee moved farther ahead, I registered the increase in Jamie’s stride as he silently skirted around Duncan. She rounded the corner and Jamie practically sprinted to catch up. With them out of sight, I returned to my own boy situation.
“I can’t imagine having all those kids … Actually, I can’t imagine having any.”
“Can’t ye, woman?” Duncan’s deep, soft brogue caressed me like the wind. “Not even for love?”
Someday I would probably want a couple of rugrats, but right now career came first. Well, career and getting home. I wasn’t about to jeopardize either one by making a medieval love connection. Maybe telling that to Duncan would get him to back off. “What I want is to get back to America. I’ve got an amazing internship waiting for me in Chicago. It’s a dream job, really.”
Despite his dark vantage point, I could sense Duncan’s scrutiny. “I’m not opposed to a career woman. I
