believe women and men should follow their passions.”
“Exactly.” I began walking so Duncan would have no choice but to move out of the obscurity of the shadows. “And my passion—my dreams—are back in the States.”
He looked at me skeptically—like he knew more about my dreams than I did and was completely willing to argue the point. “My mum’s dream was to be a weaver. She loved spinning wool inta yarn and creating beautiful fabrics.” His eyes got a far off look as he continued, “When she fell in love with my father, the prince, she worried that she’d be forced ta sacrifice her dreams for the responsibilities o’ the crown.”
It was a valid worry. “Did she?”
“Nay. She realized her destiny was not to trade one dream for another, but to have both. A life more abundant than she could’ve possibly imagined. And she did …”
My heart tugged, suspecting we shared the same wrenching loss. “What happened to her?”
“She passed a few years back. I miss her o’ course, but it was even harder on my brother.” Duncan shoved his hands in his pockets. “They shared a special connection.”
I rounded the corner and bumped into Vee. Hard. “What the—”
Before I could get the words out, Duncan stepped in front of the both of us. Arms wide, he backed us up until we were flat against a wall. His hand moved automatically to his side, where his weapon should have been. But he was weaponless—both princes were. In an effort to be civilized, they’d left their daggers in the carriage.
An unfamiliar voice, thick and slightly slurred, curdled the half-digested meal in my stomach. “Just hand ’em over, yer highness, and we’ll be on our way.”
On my tiptoes, I peered around Duncan’s shoulder. Jamie, his posture taut and coiled like an overwound spring, faced down a half dozen men. They ranged from young to middle-aged and, unfortunately, were not defenseless. Each man held some sort of improvised weapon—branches, rocks, and even a metal poker.
Utterly fearless, Jamie stood his ground against the mob. “You lads have been drinkin’. I suggest ye go home and sleep it off.”
The bearded ringleader sported an official-looking blue tam, with a creased top and a bushy white feather that was identical to the one Gideon had worn in the throne room. He brandished a wooden club like he used it on a daily basis. “We dinna want any trouble, m’ lairds. Just hand o’er the witch’s emissaries.”
Duncan, our human shield, took a nearly imperceptible step forward. “These lasses are under our protection.”
Shouts of dissention assaulted us.
“But they’re consorts o’ the witch!”
“My son’s got the croup!”
“And my livestock died!”
“’Tis witchcraft, I tell ye!”
“Hand ’em over!”
The ringleader advanced on Jamie, edging him back toward his brother. “I’m afraid we canna do what ye ask, yer highness. People are missing. Roddy MacPhee, and Robert Ennis’s wife, Millie. The kingdom will no’ be safe until the evil is cast out.”
The princes could not prevail against six burly, drunk men. Under certain circumstances, they might’ve been able to handle three apiece, but without weapons—not to mention the burden of having to keep us away from the mob—it was impossible.
Then several things happened at once. The ringleader and Jamie leapt toward each other as a man my father’s age charged Duncan, who braced for impact and then propelled the man through the air—like a rag doll. The old guy landed in the street with an overly loud thud and writhed with pain. He wouldn’t be jumping anyone again for a long time.
Three others rushed Duncan so that he crashed between Vee and me. As one burly dude punched Duncan in the jaw while another guy kicked him in the gut, the third raised his club high into the air like a major league ballplayer. With a sneer, he swung squarely at Vee’s head.
Her scream pierced the night.
In the final second before contact, Jamie lunged toward her and shoved. The blow meant for her cracked against the side of the prince’s head, and he slumped to his knees.
An instant later, Duncan—still fighting two of the attackers—smashed into me. His elbow crushed my diaphragm, knocking me off balance as my vision blackened around the edges. The golden cobblestones rose to meet me as darkness swallowed them up.
I came to my senses on hard ground to the sound of running feet and the sight of Duncan standing over me like a grizzly bear. Four men, including the old guy, lay in a crumpled heap at his feet. Another took off as the first group of guards rounded the bend.
A short distance away, Jamie sat on his royal rump near the unconscious ringleader. A small trickle of blood flowed from behind his left ear and down his neck. Vee pushed herself away from the wall where she’d ended up and stepped toward Doon’s future king. With a shaky hand, she reached down to assess his injuries.
“Don’t.” He snarled the word through clenched teeth. Irritation oozed from his every pore as he jerked away and lumbered to his feet. He pointed toward Vee, who regarded him with wide-eyed shock. “Duncan, get
“Aye.”
As Duncan turned around, I forced myself into a sitting position. The throb in my shoulder informed me that I would have a wicked bruise in the morning. Catching my breath, I looked up and steadied myself once I met the young prince’s eyes.
He knelt and smoothed a lock of hair from my cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. “Are ye all right, Mackenna?”
His concern stole the air from my lungs, so that all I could do was nod and try not to focus on what his touch was doing to my body. Before I could get to my feet, Duncan reached out and scooped me into his arms. Instead of protesting, I sagged against him and listened to his heart beating away like a massive jackhammer.
Since arriving in Doon yesterday, he’d saved me from Gideon, the icky dungeons, and now violent death at the hands of a lynch mob. Rescuing me was fast becoming “our thing.” It would’ve been so much easier if “our thing” had been something normal and less life-threatening … like karaoke.
CHAPTER 14
Veronica
Feathers floated around my head, landing on my eyelashes and sticking to my lips, but I didn’t care. I hit the pillow again and again. Sure, Jamie’d pushed me out of the way and taken a club to the head in my place. But then the callous jerk had acted as if the attack were my fault. As if I’d begged for a bunch of drunk, tam-wearing thugs to jump us!
“That’s cute, Vee. New dance move?”
I stopped spinning and put my knuckles in my mouth. Kenna stood in the bathroom doorway, swimming in a green velvet XXL robe, her damp hair piled on top of her head. Pulling my tender fingers out of my mouth, I said, “Ha, ha. Nice robe, but I think the circus elephant might want it back.”
Kenna giggled.
“It was hanging in the linen closet, and I was cold after my bath,” Kenna said absently as she wandered around the room picking up random items and setting them back down, finally sinking into a chair in front of the fire with a heavy sigh. I watched her with narrowed eyes. She had the appearance of a girl who was completely
