Doon

“I wouldna jump if I were you.”


With a squeak, my heart accelerated like a stampede of wild horses as I spun around to find Jamie leaning on the wall directly behind me. His arms were crossed in front of his broad chest, one knee bent, his booted foot propped on the rough stones behind him. The bored look on his face made it appear as if he’d been standing there for hours.

“I wasn’t planning to, Your Highness.” Sarcasm seemed to be my best defense. I needed to keep him at a distance until I could work through my jumbled feelings.

Jamie answered with a disdainful smile and pushed himself off the wall. Arms still crossed, he moved to stand in front of me, stopping so close I had to tilt my head back to see his face.

“What are ye doing out of bed?”

“Why are you such a close talker?”

“Pardon?” He narrowed his eyes and took another step forward. “I asked why yer out of bed?”

“I … ah.” My sarcasm shield dissolved on the spot. I gulped down the nervousness his nearness brought out in me and summoned the image of him gliding across the dance floor with Sofia in his arms. I cocked my head to one side and continued in a calm voice, “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to get some air. Is that a crime?”

Turning my back on him, I moved back to lean against the windowsill.

The opening was wide, but when he leaned down next to me, resting his forearms on the ledge, our shoulders touched. His heat reached me through the thick fabric of the robe, causing my nerve endings to tingle, but I couldn’t move away. I glanced at his left ear where he’d taken a club to the head for me the day before, but there was no sign of the injury beneath the golden layers of hair. I jerked my gaze away; no way would I ask him about that again.

After several seconds of silence, my attention shifted from the moon-washed landscape to his large, well-formed hands as he played with a ring on his right index finger. The thick gold band had an intricately carved lion head in the center, its onyx eyes glinting in the moonlight.

As if there’d been no break in the conversation, Jamie said, “Of course being out of bed is no’ a crime. As long as you dinna leave the tower.”

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what he could do with his tower when he said, “Why can’t ye sleep?” His voice sounded strained, as if it took a herculean effort for him to form a polite question.

Choosing to accept his peace offering, I answered truthfully, “I feel antsy.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head angle in my direction.

“What do ye mean by antsy?”

I glanced at Jamie, and turned back to the view so I could think rationally. “You know, restless. I’m used to physical activity, which I haven’t gotten much of since we’ve been here.”

“Aye. That I can understand.” I got the feeling he could relate to more than just the physical nature of my restlessness. “We’ve been cooped up in meetings to plan the Gathering and the Centennial for weeks.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of the Gathering—the committee was wondering if you or your friend have anythin’ that would be of benefit to examine. Such as inventions, devices, or footwear.”

“They want to see my shoes?” I stared at his profile, the strong nose and the high slope of his cheekbone shaded by dark gold stubble.

“You can tell a lot about a civilization by the construction of their garments.” He turned and met my stare, coffee-colored eyes raking over my face. “But anything ye brought with you from the mortal world would be helpful.”

“Okay … I did bring a cell phone, and—” I choked on my next words, my stomach jumping into my throat. I’d been about to tell him about Gracie’s journal, but something—some instinctive warning—stopped me.

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