The Princess and the Laird

by C. A. Szarek

  Her gorgeous violet eyes had been filled with such fear when she’d spoken those words. Even if that hadn’t been the case, he would’ve believed her, but that genuine terror had rocked him—at the time. But she loved him.

  Alex loved her, too. Wanted to have her as his wife. Would have her.

  She was his.

  He’d spoken the truth that he wasn’t afraid to fight, but what would that really cost? He growled and pushed those thoughts away.

  They loved each other, and they’d be together.

  Alana believed them fated, or so she’d told him. So it had to be true, right?

  The strength of his draw to her couldn’t be explained any other way. How she’d felt in his arms had been unmatched by any other lover—another sign that his love, his heart, had been correct. They were supposed to be together.

  Damn the Irish prince and his threats.

  Alex would have Alana as his own. Soon.

  She’d never belong to another.

  “Alex?” Duncan prompted softly.

  He’d taken too long to speak. “Nay, no’ bad news. Only tha best kind of news.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m ta be wed.”

  His twin sputtered and pushed back in the chair until two of the legs rocked off the floor, and slammed into the stone with heavy thunks. “What?” he gasped.

  Alex tried to convince himself not to be offended. “Aye. I’ve asked Alana ta be my wife and she’s agreed.” He didn’t need to go into anything more…at the moment. Guilt niggled. He should tell his brother the whole truth.

  He didn’t doubt the dangers to their clan. He just cared more about making his princess belong to him officially than he was worried about Fae Warriors—as she called them—coming out of the shadows.

  That voice again whispered, this time calling him selfish.

  Is that true? Am I?

  “Are ye mad?” Duncan’s question was half-bark, half filled with almost wonder.

  As if his twin did think his mind had fled.

  Alex frowned. After all his brother’s demands to meet her, his reaction wasn’t what he’d expected. “Mad? Nay. I’ve ne’er been clearer. More sure of anythin’.”

  “Ye can’t wed a lass none of us have met, Alex. Nor a lass Da dinna approve. Ye canna have jus’ any match, brother. Yer tha laird. Ye’ve responsibilities. All tha’, a’ course, leavin’ off the mention of her bein’ Fae.”

  He reared back. “So, ye still dinna believe me?”

  “I…”

  “What happened ta all tha demands ta meet her? Ye dinna doubt then!”

  “‘Tisna like tha’. Alex—”

  “Dinna, ‘Alex’ me, little brother.” He scowled. His mood dipped and Alex wanted to grab his brother and shake him. Of all people, he needed his twin on his side.

  Needed his support.

  “An’ I ne’er said I’d wed withou’ her meetin’ Mother, Da, and Janey. She canna always come here, an’ I—”

  “Bein’ tha laird dinna give ye freedom ta wed whoe’er ye like, an’ ye know tha’. Da ‘twill have a say.”

  Alex glowered. “I am tha laird, as ye say. Bein’ such, I will wed who I want.” He put his fists on the surface of the desk to resist the urge to plant one in Duncan’s face. He rose up, and his brother’s gaze followed, looking up at him.

  His twin remained seated.

  Good.

  “Alex—”

  “As laird, ‘tis my duty ta find matches fer my siblings, as weel.”

  Duncan frowned.

  “I can match ye wit’ who I see fit. Janey, too.”

  “Dinna threaten me, Alex MacLeod.” His brother re-crossed his arms over his chest and stared him down. “Yer no’ listenin’ ta me.”

  “What’s ta listen ta? I’m ta be wed. There’s nothin’ more ta say on tha matter.”

  “What’s this nonsense?” Their father’s boom had Alex’s eyes shooting to the doorway of his ledger room. The older man stood there with Janet.

  Damn, his brother hadn’t closed the door when he’d come in.

  He swallowed but wasn’t about to squirm. He was a man, and he was the laird.

  “Da—” Duncan gasped—much like he had earlier with Alex’s declaration. He scrambled to his feet as if they’d been caught in mischief. His twin paled a little, but he didn’t pay it any mind.

  “Yer ta be wed?” His sister asked as father and daughter slid into the room and Janet closed the door.

  Their father’s bushy eyebrows were as high as they could physically go without jumping off his face. His blue stare never wavered from Alex’s.

  He squared his shoulders and nodded. “Aye.” He’d planned to tell the rest of his family about Alana. It wasn’t like he could keep their upcoming nuptials a secret forever.

  Might as well be now.

  His father was always touting the Fae were real…Alex was about to confirm it.

  “Ta whom?” Iain demanded.

  * * * *

  “How could I not have known?” Alana plastered both hands to her lower still-flat stomach. Her body had betrayed her.

  Her hands, her arms, her spine, even her legs trembled, although Xander had lifted her and carried her to her bed as soon as Seamus had stormed from her suite with more dark vows.

  The prince had been so angry his face had been the same color of his glowing red medallion, but he’d not stated what move he’d planned next. He’d just…left.

  Xander had asked if she should go after him, but she hadn’t wanted to.

  Then, or now.

  She was reeling with news she should’ve been able to sense.

  Alana sat up against her pillows, but the softness behind her might as well have been an abrasive surface. Her back was scepter-straight, and her chest was tight, her heart still pounding against her ribs. Breathing was labored, too. She had to concentrate to get air down.

  Chaos reigned, taking over her mind and jarring her like her quivering form.

  I’m carrying a child.

  Alex’s child.

  Hope, love and joy bloomed, only to be quashed when her bodyguard spoke.

  “You have bigger things to worry about than that.” Her cousin shook his head, his frown so deep it jolted her to the edge of the bed. His wings vibrated, and his wide shoulders held a fine tremor, too.

  He was scared, and that rocked her to her core.

  The strong Fae Warrior was like a rock most of the time. Xander didn’t scare.

  Any Fae would kill her child on site. Some—like Seamus, evidently—could sense pregnancy with the barest touch, and it was said her race could smell human blood. Maybe some could, she never had.

  As the Crown Princess, she was always around members of the Scottish Court with great magic, and talents usually varied vastly. Being pregnant with Alex’s child could get her killed if other Fae could also sense mixed parentage within her.

  Not to mention the unwed-Crown-Princess-reality.

  Even if she could pass the child off as her betrothed’s, she and Seamus would be frowned upon. That wouldn’t help the situation anyway; her father would no doubt demand their nuptials take place immediately to cover the impropriety.

  Fae could be promiscuous before marriage, but procreation was for after the vows. Young Fae were supposed to be careful, and Alana didn’t exactly have youth to use an excuse, she’d long since shed girlhood. She’d never thought to be careful with Alex, even if she had knowledge of Fae blood in the MacLeod line. She didn’t have a justification; she’d simply let her feelings and passion for the human laird to carry away her sense.

  Alana shuddered.

  In any case, the prince would never agree to claim Alex’s babe, even if they could get away with the half-human issue. He’d been too angry.

  At birth, it would be obvious to anyone in her realm that her child wasn’t pure Fae.

  Death sentence.

  She told herself to breathe in and out. “How could Seamus be the one to discover—” />
  “Alana.”

  Her name was all warning, and her gaze flew to Xander’s. “You’re carrying a child.”

  “Aye, I am aware.” She tried to keep her voice wry, but his tight expression held real fear, and ice slid down her spine.

  “Are you?” He cocked his head to one side, narrowing his violet eyes.

  Her heart skipped. “Of course. What—”

  “A child who is half human.”

  “Xander—”

  “Your life has never been in graver danger.”

  Alana fought convulsions and didn’t dare answer him. “I have to tell Alex. Now.” She hurried off her bed to stand on shaky legs and reached for the bedpost at the same time her cousin grabbed her other arm to steady her.

  “Nay, Alana.”

  Their eyes locked. “Aye, Xander. I promised to meet him up on the ridge tonight anyway. Now my reason is different. I’d merely wanted to see him, but now I have to see him.”

  He frowned. “You have to stay here, and we have to deal with this.”

  She stilled. “Deal with it? What do you mean?” Her pulse throbbed.

  Xander couldn’t, wouldn’t—

  His braid danced when he shook his head. “I’m not cruel enough to suggest you end your—”

  “Don’t even say it,” she snapped. “I won’t do it.” Tears threatened and she blinked, then hastily swiped at her cheeks. They remained dry. For now.

  Her cousin sighed. “What’re you going to do if Seamus goes to you father? He could be there right now. He didn’t say he wouldn’t.”

  “He didn’t say he would, either.”

  “Your Highness—”

  “Seamus has too much to lose—namely Scotland. He wants my father’s throne too badly to give up the betrothal because of my…indiscretion.” She flattened her palm on her lower stomach. “He’ll keep the news to himself for now. He needs to plan and regroup.”

  Her cousin studied her. “You suddenly know your intended well.”

  “It’s not sudden. I’ve known him for years.”

  Xander sighed. “You’d better hope you’re right. I hope you’re right.” The alarm in his voice was still thick, and he flexed his wings.

  “He can’t kill me.”

  “Nay, he cannot wed a corpse.”

  She straightened and swallowed. “Nay, he cannot.” Alana closed her eyes and took a breath. She didn’t want to think about Seamus and marriage. She pushed off the bedpost still in her grip. “I need to go to Alex.”

  Her cousin cast his eyes to the ceiling. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “Aye, to ensure you come right back, so we can decide what to do about your idiot prince.”

  She scowled. “He’s not my prince, and I want to ensure he goes to every level of Fae Hell.”

  Xander smirked and moved the hearth with a spell to reveal the secret passageway.

  Chapter Twenty

  She’d taken him to the cave of the Faery Stones, and when she’d not returned his kiss up on the ridge quite enthusiastically enough, Alana had felt Alex’s nerves. She’d called him to their meeting spot hours early; it wasn’t quite twilight.

  He might be young, but he had good instincts, her love knew something was wrong.

  Xander’s presence when they were supposed to meet for lovemaking had probably given it away, if nothing else.

  Alana had asked her cousin to stay on the beach so she’d be alone with her laird, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think they had true privacy. She could’ve cast a soundproofing spell, but it was smarter not to. Xander would worry.

  Alex had taken the news about their child well. Her magic had told her he was happy, but his expression betrayed his nerves. Apprehension that was probably due to her double betrothal, as much as being a first-time father.

  She tried not to wince at the guilt churning her gut. She busied her gaze with glancing over the Faery Stones. She was only a few feet from the crystals, and their magic called to hers, she could hear the humming in her head, and the main Stone brightened.

  Alana would rather be on the beach with her cousin, the fresh sea wind on her face, even with the evening chill in the air. It would shuffle her hair and caress her in relieving waves. She loved sitting up on the ridge and watching the crashing waters smack into the rocky beach of Skye. It’d calmed her from the first time she’d waited for Alex up there.

  “Ye will marry me now.” His hard tone was unrelenting and Alex made fists at his sides.

  Her eyes shot back to his determination. Tears blurred her vision again, as if she’d never known any other existence. She couldn’t focus on his demand, or how happy it truly made her. Alana was far from free. “Alex…”

  He frowned, and her heart thumped.

  Her love had no doubt misinterpreted her wet cheeks. She wanted to marry him, as she’d already agreed. More than anything. And despite the initial panic, she was as happy as he that she was carrying his child.

  Alex crowded her, but his hands never wavered from his sides, as if he was afraid to reach for her, but Alana wanted nothing more.

  “Now. No’ next week, or in a fortnight, or a month from now, but this day. Ye will be my wife. Yer gonna birth my bairn as my wife.”

  She sucked in her bottom lip and ordered her wobbly emotions to every level of Fae Hell. Nothing worked. Her relief warred with her fear and the desperation to scream, aye! and jump into his arms.

  If Alana disappeared, Seamus would go to her father, and an army of Fae Warriors would come here. Wipe out Clan MacLeod, her love along with the rest of his people.

  “I cannot stay. Even as your wife.” The words made her knees buckle, but when she was about to fall, her laird’s hands shot out and supported her, then pinned her to his hard chest.

  “Alana—”

  “I’ve told you everything, Alex. Nothing has changed…I want to wed you more than anything, but I cannot run away. Seamus made vows, my love. Vows he will hold to, I promise you that.”

  His mouth crashed down on hers and she clung to him, to their fused mouths.

  Alana couldn’t pull away from his kiss, but she shouldn’t get lost in it, either. Yet, she didn’t have the strength to deny the man she loved, and gave herself over to the movement of his lips over hers, how he possessed and gave at the same time.

  He slanted his mouth again, shoving his tongue into hers, and heat shot down her limbs, warmth settled low. Alex continued to kiss her until they were both trembling and restless.

  Arousal was thick in the air, but they couldn’t undress and be together, her cousin was too close, for one thing.

  She panted and gripped him, trying to distract her mind from her singing pulse, thrumming body.

  “I care no’ mò chridhe,” he breathed, resting his forehead against hers.

  Alana shuddered, and fear shimmied down her spine, chasing away desire, despite the warmth of his chest and his arms around her. “You should.”

  “Nay,” Alex whispered. “Yer mine. We’re supposed ta be tagether. Now there’s a bairn.”

  She swallowed. Oh how she wanted to agree with him. “I love you,” was all she could push out.

  “I love ye, as well.” He dipped down and kissed her again, this time achingly sweet and tender. Soft, and bearing his love for her.

  He was holding her up; she wanted to burrow into him and never let go.

  “So…you want this babe? You’re not afraid of what it all means?” she whispered.

  “Aye. I want ye both.” He pressed his lips to her nose, then her forehead. “Yer both mine.”

  Alana whimpered and tightened her arms around his neck.

  He rubbed her back in long soothing strokes and she melted into his every touch.

  “Alana…” He sucked in air, pressing against her breasts even more.

  “Alex…”

  They stared at each other and silence filled the cave.

  She refused to shed more tear
s.

  He was right, they were supposed to be together, and as he’d said, there was a child now. They were having a child.

  “Ye said we’re fated, dinna ye?”

  “Aye.” Her voice quaked. “I did. I believe we are. You are my fate, Alex MacLeod.”

  “Aye, as yer mine.”

  That was the third time he’d reminded her she belonged to him.

  Perhaps, she’d needed to hear it.

  Alana managed a smile, but it was tremulous.

  “We will marry now, mò chridhe. Ye will be my wife. Taday.”

  * * * *

  Introductions were awkward, but not many questions were asked or answered as Alex’s family gathered with them in the MacLeod chapel—save his sister and mother.

  Janet would probably be cross with him later for missing his wedding, but she was keeping their mother company in her rooms.

  Alex didn’t know what she’d been told to keep her there, but only his brother and father had joined them in the chapel to be witnesses.

  Explanations and answers would be for later—as well as revealing that he’d soon be a father. Due to her health, his mother couldn’t be there to witness their nuptials, but she’d been happy when he’d told her he would soon marry. The day his father and sister had walked in on him and Duncan in his ledger room felt like months ago.

  The same relief and delight had radiated in her eyes as when his stupid brother had told her he had a lass. Lady Caitriona couldn’t wait to meet his wife.

  Sorrow and joy mixed in his gut and forced his pulse to throb in his temples. Alana would be his wife this day, and the mother to his firstborn in the months to come, but she still couldn’t stay with him.

  He wanted to gather men, storm her realm and slay the bastard prince that was keeping her from her proper place at his side.

  If they were fated, perhaps it would all work itself out?

  How? Reverberated in his head.

  He refused to be desperate at the moment. He was about to be wed to the woman he loved, the love of his life.