Mario kissed my cheeks and then Vee’s, saying, “Signorine, I hope next time you dine with us, you will be able to meet my beautiful wife. My Sharron and our seven bellissimo bambini.” I thanked him profusely for the pizza before I took Vee’s arm and we stepped out into the warm night.
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 A Christmas Carol. I half expected Ebenezer Scrooge to round the corner any moment and bellow “Bah humbug.” The image was enough to remind me that despite the little pepperonied slice of home, we were trapped in another time and place.
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 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.