I awoke to the harsh light of day and the knowledge I had a little over forty-eight hours left in Doon. I just prayed that the Covenant would protect all of us from the witch’s malice until I could get the journal out of the kingdom. Now that I knew I couldn’t leave until the portal opened at the Centennial, each minute felt like a ticking time bomb.
In vain, I searched for a clock. How much time had I wasted sleeping?
Jamie must have covered me during the night because I was buried under a mountain of thick wool blankets. Rolling over and sitting up, I became aware that the sun was high in the sky, filling the cozy room with early afternoon light.
Make that less than forty-eight hours left in Doon.
With a sigh of resignation, I pushed off the covers and stood with a yawn. A sleepy-eyed Jamie emerged from the other room in the pants he’d been wearing the night before—and no shirt.
Oh no.
His broad shoulders and perfectly sculpted torso would’ve put the models on the giant Abercrombie and Fitch posters to shame. He was all bronze skin and smooth muscle.
“Good mornin’.” His voice sounded rough from sleep. Rubbing his open hand against his eight-pack abs, his eyes crinkled against the sun and a languid grin spread across his face. He’d never looked hotter—correction, I’d never seen anyone look hotter. As my pulse skyrocketed out of control, I acknowledged that I’d made a huge mistake. I should’ve demanded he take me back to the castle the night before, no matter how exhausted I’d been.
“Good morning,” I mumbled as I self-consciously smoothed my hair and straightened the huge shirt he’d loaned me.
“Oh!” Startled, I glanced down at my bare legs. I was fairly sure I’d been wearing pants the night before. I tugged the shirt down to cover my thighs and wondered why I felt so embarrassed. My cheer-skirt barely covered my behind, and I’d practically lived in it during football season. Maybe it was all the long skirts and stockings I’d worn for the last two weeks.
“What are ye—Och!” Jamie cut off as he noticed my missing clothes.
“I must have kicked them off during the night,” I explained as I sat next to the mound of blankets and began searching for my pants.
“I have seen legs before, ye know,” Jamie said with studied casualness.
I glanced up to find him staring at me with a boyish grin, his eyes fixed on my one bare leg visible between the disarray of blankets. I was pretty sure viewing a woman’s naked legs—especially the length that was currently visible below my shirt—would be considered taboo in his culture. Something about the situation made me feel giddy—and a little powerful.
Without taking my eyes off him, I experimentally removed the blanket covering my right leg and watched in satisfaction as his eyes widened. Slowly, I stood, allowing the shirt to fall into place just above my knees. Jamie cleared his throat but his eyes stayed locked in the downward position. Knowing I was playing with fire but unable to resist, I lifted my arms above my head with a great yawn. As I stretched onto my toes, the hem of the shirt rose to the top of my thighs.
“By the saints,” Jamie muttered, shoving a hand through his sleep-tousled hair.
Fluidly, I lowered my arms and brought my feet to rest flat on the floor. The knowledge that I could beat him at his own game filled me with wicked satisfaction. Then I caught his eye, and the forceful heat of his stare hit me like a wave, almost knocking me back onto the sofa. With great deliberation, he moved in my direction. And I knew I was in way over my head.
“Ah … Jamie? I ah … need to … Is there a privy I can use?”
“Aye, it’s through that door.” His voice low, he pointed in the general direction of the room he’d slept in. But with a mountain of blankets blocking my most direct path and Jamie advancing toward me, I was trapped.