“To have a Calling.”
It appeared that here in Doon, receiving a Calling was like winning the romance lottery. For a medieval land, they appeared surprisingly enlightened. So why was everyone absorbed with getting hitched? “What’s so great about a Calling, anyway?”
Duncan turned his attention back to me. His eyes blazed with a light that matched his impassioned words. “It’s divine confirmation of your partner—that you’ve found your perfect match in every way. No uncertainty. And that love will only grow. It will never fade, never die. It lasts forever.”
“You believe Jamie’s had a Calling?”
“Aye.”
“What does he think?”
“He thinks it’s complicated. He’s confused. But in my opinion, the problem is he’s busy thinking when he should just trust his heart.”
Somehow Duncan and I had drifted closer together during the last bit of conversation, and my face was now inches from his. When I glanced at his mouth, he angled his head and parted his lips in an unmistakable invitation.
What were the implications of kissing in Doon? Did they have such a thing as hooking up? Or would a little lip locking send Duncan scurrying to the imperial jewelers for a diamond ring?
Uncertainty caused me to roll away from him and sit up. “Aside from finding true love, don’t you have things you want to do with your life?”
He pulled himself up beside me and rested his forearms on his knees. “All I’ve ever wanted since I was a wee lad was to serve the citizens of Doon, my kingdom and my king.”
“Even if that king is Jamie?”
“Aye. He needs me.” I sensed Duncan would be satisfied to play second fiddle. His loyalties ran deep—he’d have no problem seeing Jamie as a king first and a brother second. As if he read my thoughts, he smiled impishly. “Though he still might need takin’ down a notch now and then.”
I imagined the big ogre beating the new king of Doon playfully across the butt with the flat of his sword and the royal outrage it would cause. That would nearly be worth staying for.
A flock of birds shot from the canopy of the forest like they were bent on avenging their stolen eggs. Duncan pointed to them. “Crossbills. They’re a type of finch.”
We watched as they disappeared into the thick gray clouds rolling our direction. I wondered how much time we had until the rain came.
After an eternity, Duncan cast me a sidelong look. “What about you? What do you want to do with your life?”
Resisting the urge to lose myself in his brown eyes, I struggled to put my aspirations into a context he would understand. “It’s always been my dream to become a professional actress. I have this amazing theater internship in Chicago.”
“And then what?”
“Then I conquer Broadway and win a Tony.” Duncan’s brows pinched together and I clarified, “Tony’s not a person. It’s an award—an accolade. It’s like the Calling of the theater world.”
He nodded in understanding. “And after Broad Way?”
“I die happy?” That was such a long way off. I always imagined I’d be like Betty Buckley, performing way into the sunset of my life.
With a hint of frustration, Duncan demanded, “What about love and a family?”
“Maybe … someday. But neither one is at the top of my to-do list. Your culture might be fixated on Callings, but for me, true love is one of the worst things that could happen. I can’t have my heart getting in the way of my dreams.”
Duncan regarded me impassively. “I see. Thank you for clarifying your position.”
As he began unpacking our picnic basket, I told myself it was better this way. The last thing I needed was to let some romantic entanglement get in the way of me leaving at the Centennial. And if flirting was the first step on the Doonian path to matrimony, better not to venture down that road at all. Perhaps if I were really lucky, Duncan Rhys Finnean MacCrae would get his Calling and turn his charms toward some nice local lass. Then I’d barely even regret not kissing him when I had the chance.