“See that Fiona gets you your own.” And with that parting order, he was gone.
Even as the echo of his footsteps faded, I questioned the sanity of agreeing to go anywhere with this boy. His presence lingered in my blood like a drug, making my head spin. What would a whole afternoon spent with him do to me? I took a deep, steadying breath. Regardless, I had to find out if he was the reason I was here. And more importantly, if he wanted me to stay.
CHAPTER 18
Mackenna
More provincial costumes, more petrified villagers on the verge of a hate crime, and more of creepy, bulge-eyed Gideon. Ugh. Top that off with religious conformity and the Centennial could not arrive soon enough.
I stood outside the old stone church, Ye Auld Kirk o’ Doon, determined not to let my intimidation get the best of me. My folks had never been churchgoers, so the whole worship concept—from the unnatural dressy clothes to the organized rites that everyone seemed to perform by osmosis—felt foreign and forced. Like doing a mash-up of Spring Awakening and Spam-a-lot.
I’d wanted to ditch, but Fiona had insisted it would appear worse if Vee and I didn’t attend. So I’d let her dress me in yet another Girl-Scout-meets-pirate-wench ensemble: a calf-length skirt—dove gray—and a white cap-sleeved top that laced at the neckline. Vee, my mirror twin, wore a matching top and a pale turquoise skirt. We both sported plaid sashes bearing the Doon colors, but I drew the line at the matching hats. I would never be that desperate to blend in.
Fiona sensed my unease and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Be at peace, Mackenna. This house is come as ye are.”
“Yeah, don’t sweat it, Ken.” Vee meant to be helpful, so I resisted the urge to reach over and flick the royal blue pom-pom on the top of her head. Of course, she looked fabulous in her tam—all native and confident. I, on the other hand, felt conspicuously out of place … and time, for that matter.
Rather than voice my feelings, I managed a somewhat sincere smile. “Let’s do this, then.”
As we entered the ancient structure of hewn rock and stained glass, I couldn’t help but search for Duncan’s gorgeous face. His velvet-brown eyes fastened on mine and his mouth widened into a lopsided grin. Across the distance, he sent a message meant only for me, a wink of reassurance even more intimate than our dancing the previous evening. My cheeks began to burn with the curse of the ginger and I dropped my head, annoyed that the charming ogre could make me blush with the merest facial tick. To my immense relief, rather than join him we took seats about halfway back.
From directly behind the princes, Gabby waved and flashed an impatient smile. I had no doubt she was anticipating a dance-by-dance recap of the previous evening. The kid meant well, but I wanted to spare Vee the agony of reliving the night at all costs.
As the service started, Gabby reluctantly turned around to face front alongside her parents and multitude of siblings, including the breathtaking Sofia. Gabby whispered something in Sofia’s ear, which caused her to glance over her shoulder in our direction before giving her full attention to the proceedings. Teeny-weeny Sofia was not smiling.
Commotion up front indicated the start of the service. The minister, an elderly man with thick, gray sideburns, whom we’d already met a handful of times since our arrival, cleared his throat and pronounced, “Let us commence by remembering the Miracle.” His strong rolling brogue echoed through the space.