“Really? I can trust you? You have no idea what yer saying! The very fate of Doon rests on me. And you …” His face contorted with torment. “You touch me and I’m ready to throw it all away!” He shook me as if the violent movement would make me understand. “What I feel doesna matter. If yer truly connected to the witch … there will be no mercy. I have to remain strong. Don’t you see? I dinna have a choice!”
“Strong, how?” I whispered as tears stung the back of my eyes. I already knew the answer—strong because he had to deny what was between us, so he could objectively sentence me to death or whatever punishment Doonians reserved for conspiracy to commit witchcraft.
He abruptly loosened his hold on my arms, and I stumbled back several steps. He reached out and steadied me but stepped away quickly. “This”—he gestured toward me and then back at his chest—“canna go on.” His voice was strong and sure, but his eyes filled with regrets.
Thunder bellowed across the sky. All the blood seemed to drain out of my body as I took a step toward him. “Jamie, please believe—”
“M’ laird!” A shout in the distance cut me off. The male voice was familiar, but too distorted with agitation for me to place.
Jamie turned toward the passage without a backward glance and began to run. Cursing my stupid skirts, I yanked up the material to my thighs and followed.
Ahead, Fergus burst through the trees, his face mottled crimson. Leaning over to catch his breath, he watched us approach with anxious eyes. “M’ laird,” he gasped, “’tis yer father. There are horses waitin’ for ye on the low path. Duncan’s already gone ahead. Ye must make haste.”
Jamie put his hand on Fergus’s massive shoulder. “Stay with the lasses. See them safely back to the castle.”
“Aye.”
Then without so much as a word, or even a glance in my direction, Jamie MacCrae was gone.
CHAPTER 20
Veronica
I plodded along behind Fergus through the forest and back toward the glen, dragging my battered heart behind me. Not even Eric had emotionally sucker punched me like the future king of Doon. Guys were idiots. Plain and simple.
I knew the connection between Jamie and me was real—more real than anything I’d felt in my life—so why did he think he had to resist it? Did he really believe I was in league with the witch? Or maybe his history with Sofia trumped anything he felt for me. I kicked a pebble, sending it shooting through the underbrush. I still didn’t know if we’d shared the same visions, or dreams—whatever they were.
And why did I care? Obviously, he didn’t.
Fergus stopped so abruptly I almost smacked into his arm. Quick as lightning, he drew his weapon and maneuvered me behind him. “Gideon, man, ye better start talkin’.”
“I arrived and found the girl standing over them.” Gideon’s voice sounded strange, even for him—agitated, almost frantic. “I subdued her for my own protection.”
Peeking around the giant guard, I had to blink several times before I comprehended what I was seeing. Kenna sat rubbing the back of her head, looking dazed, surrounded by bodies. Dead bodies—soldiers I recognized from the castle guard—with faces frozen in various stages of terror.
“Lass, do ye know how this happened?” Fergus asked Kenna, his tone carefully modulated. These soldiers could’ve been his friends, men he’d worked alongside every day.
Kenna seemed on the verge of tears. “I … I don’t remember how I got here.”
“She’s killed them wi’ her evil magic. The witch must die!” Gideon proclaimed, his skeletal face emanating zealous triumph. Gideon held a broadsword in one hand and a wicked-looking dagger in the other.
Like a scene from a movie, Gideon charged at Kenna, his face contorted in rage as she let out a strangled cry. Racing against Gideon, who was just a dark blur in my peripheral vision, I leapt forward and tackled Kenna. We both slammed into the ground. The air whooshed from my lungs as I gripped her shoulders and braced for the impact of a sword in my back.
But it never came.