At the tiny table in our sitting room, I speared my last bite of pancake. The fluffy morsel oozed with sweet blueberries and dripped with fresh-churned butter. I’d never tasted anything so heavenly in all my eighteen years. Dredging the cakes through a puddle of warm maple syrup, I popped the bite in my mouth and closed my eyes in bliss. “Mmm …” Sorry, Aunt Jemima, but there is no substitute for just-tapped syrup.
“Geez, is that your sixth or seventh pancake?”
I opened my eyes to find Kenna scrutinizing me like I was some kind of science experiment. “I lost count at five.”
“I’d give my left boob for your metabolism.”
“Yeah? Well, I’d give my right butt cheek for one of your knockers.”
She barked out a laugh and spewed a mouthful of tea back into her cup. “I’m thinking we’d both look pretty funny after that exchange.”
With a giggle, I leaned back and patted my full stomach, surprised to find it still flat. “I think I need a nap.”
After recovering her ability to breathe, Kenna poured me another cup of coffee. “Drink up, Buttercup. I can’t stay locked in this tower all day.”
My gaze wandered to the breathtaking view of rolling moors and stately mountains; all of Doon spread out before us just waiting to be explored. After a solid five hours of sleep and a belly full of the best pancakes in the universe, I felt my optimism returning.
Jamie’d used his body to protect me, taking a major-league smack to the head that’d been meant for me. Which, I had to admit, was pretty darn heroic. Regardless of the reasons he’d lashed out afterward, he’d saved my life without concern for his own, which meant that on some level he cared.
The possibility made me sit straight in my chair. I took a gulp of coffee and shook off my food coma. “You’re so right. What should we do today?”
A light tap sounded on the door, announcing Fiona before she swept into the room. “Good morn’, m’ ladies.”
“Morning, Fiona.”
“Hey, girl,” Kenna replied, our greetings overlapping.
“Prince Jamie and Prince Duncan send their regrets tha’ they canna accompany you today, as they’ve urgent business to attend.”
A wave of disappointment rolled through me as she added, “However, they ask that ye stay inside the protective walls o’ the castle. For yer own safety, o’ course.” No surprise that the girl knew about the attack; it seemed nothing happened in this mystic microcosm without her knowledge.
“And …” A brilliant smile lit Fiona’s whole face, causing her hazel eyes to shimmer. “The MacCrae asked me ta give you this, Veronica.”
She removed a small giftwrapped package from her pocket. My hand froze in midair, and then dropped, my coffee mug hitting the table with a thump. The MacCrae, as in Jamie?
Fiona brought the package over to our table and set it in front of me with great care. I stared at the small box wrapped in heavy cream-colored parchment. There was a folded piece of paper tucked beneath a golden raffia bow.
“Well, are you going to open it or should I?” Kenna reached across the table, but I snatched the package away from her grasp. I longed to take it into the bedroom where I could open it in peace without the heavy expectation radiating from Kenna and Fiona. But if I knew my best friend, she would only follow me.
Unhurriedly, I slid the note from under the tie and opened it. I scanned the strong, bold strokes of Jamie’s handwriting as I propped my trembling hands on the edge of the table and read the note aloud.
Dear Miss Welling,
I must apologize for my abruptness last evening. My brother assured me that you were unharmed during the attack, for which I am grateful.
I saw you admiring this trinket in the village yesterday and felt it an appropriate moment to give it to you. Please accept my apology and this gift as a token of my eternal esteem. I hope that you will cherish this small piece of Doon, always.