The Princess and the Laird

by C. A. Szarek

  Duncan cleared his throat, and his eyes landed on his twin.

  Their father stood next to him, wringing his hands in front of his plaid-clad form. The older man’s nerves were evident, making the same skitter down Alex’s spine, and he fought a shiver.

  He should feel crowded with their tall forms surrounding him next to the altar, but they were his family. It was right that they were present.

  Neither looked pleased with the current circumstances, although Iain had been validated and quite smug that the Fae were actually real.

  When he’d met Alana and Xander moments before, Alex’s father had been quiet, as if hesitant to believe they were before him, and he couldn’t gather words to speak. Then he’d blurted that there was Fae blood in their line.

  Alana had smiled and nodded, before launching into a story about a Fae princess named Sima.

  Iain’s shoulders had loosened then, and he’d grinned triumph at both his sons. That happy sentiment had seemed to dissolve now as tension shot up, filling the usually peaceful space.

  They didn’t have time to share with him what they really thought about his wife-to-be or her cousin, but he was grateful neither had protested when he’d explain the marriage was to occur now.

  Alex hadn’t shed light on Alana’s situation to anyone, not even his brother, and his family didn’t know she couldn’t stay in their realm after they’d exchanged vows.

  They’d rushed the nearest priest to Dunvegan, and the portly balding man was currently on the dais scowling down at them. He had the Bible open and his glare softened as he scanned the holy words he would soon recite.

  Alex tried not to let Father Alban’s displeasure make his nerves even worse. The older man was set in his ways, and he could only imagine what his twin had had to promise the codger to get him to come to Dunvegan in the evening on short notice to perform a wedding.

  Movement at the chapel doors snagged his attention, but then his eyes were frozen on the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

  She was walking toward them—to him—on Xander’s arm.

  Alana was still covered in purple, but she’d changed into a fancy gown with long flowing skirts, and a bodice that seemed to be covered in feathers stained the same rich dark hue—royal purple, of course.

  The fabric shimmered and caught the candlelight surrounding the raised altar and two steps, and it had a train that trailed behind her. Her shoulders were bare, and he had to suck in a growl of protest at her breasts, which were pushed high, on display.

  Her hair had been bound and placed up, and she wore a glinting jeweled tiara atop her head.

  She looked like…well, the princess she was.

  So gorgeous his breath evaporated.

  Mine.

  Her smile was brilliant and made his heart stutter.

  Alex bid himself to relax. If she could let go of her worries and fear, so should he. This was his wedding. It was supposed to be the happiest day of his life—and it was. He needed to hold that close and push all the negatives away.

  They could—and would—deal with it all later.

  He grabbed her hands when she reached for him, and helped her step up in front of the priest.

  “Alana?” Alex whispered.

  “I couldn’t very well marry you in trews and a cloak.”

  His brother chuckled and some of the tension lifted.

  Alex let himself smile and leaned in to his betrothed. “Magic?” he said into her ear.

  “Aye,” she said back, and there was a twinkle in her violet eyes that matched the fabric of her pretty dress. Hopefully the priest wouldn’t notice—or remark—on how unusual the gown’s style was.

  Alana’s cousin hovered over her with a frown firmly in place, but he took his position opposite Duncan and Iain beside the dais without a word.

  Alex really wanted to dislike the tall fair-haired warrior, but Xander was fiercely protective of Alana, so he had to respect him. The few conversations they’d shared had showed him the stoic man was good, caring. He had no doubt of his skills as a warrior, either.

  Father Alban cleared his throat and didn’t bother asking if Xander was giving Alana to Alex. “Ye have no contract?” Disapproval coated his tone.

  Alana’s eyes locked onto his before they both shook their heads.

  “I approve of tha union, Father,” Iain said. “Just join them in tha eyes a’ God.”

  Relief and gratitude for his father washed over him, and Alex released a breath.

  Alana shot a look to the former laird, and mouthed, ‘thank you’.

  Then she looked back at Alex and he got lost in her eyes, her love, her joy. She was radiant.

  And she was about to be his.

  Officially.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Alana rounded the corner, headed into the vast guest wing of her father’s palace. Xander wasn’t with her, but this time she didn’t want her cousin there when she ordered Seamus to all five levels of Fae Hell in detail.

  If only I could.

  She had to be strong enough to face him alone. She prayed to the Goddess for a steady voice for this argument. She wasn’t naïve enough to think seeing the prince would be a mild confrontation.

  Alana had no bargaining material, she’d have to beg.

  Seamus hadn’t graced her with his presence in three days…since he’d dropped the information as sure as a blast-spell that she was carrying Alex’s child.

  Not seeing him had helped in some ways, she’d been able to think and calm, but it was also bad—she was paranoid he’d already told her father, despite her sure words to Xander that he still needed her. She’d been certain…at the time.

  Doubt was her new reality. She’d woken in a cold sweat several times during the previous nights—terror had caused her to hear things, such as stomping boots of full wings of Fae Warriors marching to her door.

  She hadn’t heard from any source—she’d asked Rannick to inquire discreetly—that the Irish prince had had an audience with King Fillan, but then again, maybe it wouldn’t be an official thing in his throne room. Alana was more frightened it would be—and had been—a small affair in private.

  Her father had not summoned her, but she remained on edge, waiting for it to occur. He’d have her locked in the tower instead of her rooms. Or worse.

  She told herself to breathe in and out slowly. She placed her hand over her stomach and was able to smile. Alex’s child was with her, so even if her love wasn’t, she had a piece of him to draw strength from.

  They were married now. Of course, only by human traditions, but according to Alex’s God, their union could not be torn asunder. That should give her strength, too, but it made her more petrified.

  Seamus is going to be so angry if he finds out.

  When he found out?

  ‘Keeping’ her human certainly hadn’t allowed for marriage, let alone the babe that her lover had gifted her. Then again, after her indiscretion had come to light, it would only be natural for Seamus to demand she stop seeing Alex, since she’d failed to do so ‘responsibly’. She wouldn’t, of course, and she’d have to avoid getting caught—again.

  For now, their child was safe inside her, but only because she was masked in special magic. It’d taken a trip to the archives to find the right spells. Eirini would never betray her, but Alana’s questions had been inconspicuous until she’d found the right scrolls.

  She couldn’t go to a healer, they would sense her child’s sire was of another race with one touch, and the royal healers held nothing sacred above her father, so a report to the king would be immediate.

  Xander’s mother had healing magic, so he had it in his blood even though it was far from his main magical gift. He’d helped her with the elaborate spell, but it’d taken a lot out of them both. She’d slept most of the day afterward, and no doubt her cousin had done the same.

  Alana could only hope—and pray—the magic was strong enough to cover her for the entirety of her pregnancy. She would not
be able to give birth in her realm. As soon as the child was born, danger became death sentence.

  She sucked back a breath, and her chest heaved. There were so many things she still didn’t know how they could move past. If they could. When they could be together in his realm. If they could.

  After the short ceremony officiated by the grumpy priest, Xander had whisked her away—Alana and Alex had not been able to consummate their vows. She’d plastered her new husband with as many kisses as she could steal, then had had to leave him standing up on the ridge where they always met.

  Alana had not seen inside his home—the castle Dunvegan, nor had she been in more than the small courtyard that lead to the chapel within the MacLeod grounds. She ached to see more of his world, and to remain in it.

  She’d meet him tonight and be with him again. She could ask the numerous questions swirling in her mind, including about his brother who looked so much like him, but seemed so different, even at just a glance and brief introduction.

  Alana hadn’t gotten to meet his sister, but she already liked his father very much, and couldn’t wait until she’d be free to converse with the older man. It was amusing that Iain MacLeod was actually a few years her junior, but looking into the eyes that matched Alex’s told her how her husband would likely appear when he reached the same age.

  He—and his twin—looked very much like their father.

  The noise of a door closing ahead in the wide corridor had her glancing up.

  Alana stilled, because it was her destination, and who she was seeing at the exit didn’t make any sense. She startled when he turned toward her, so she muttered a quick invisibility spell, and glued herself to the wall before he could look at her.

  What’s a Scottish Fae Warrior doing here?

  She memorized his face, because she didn’t know his name, but the epaulet on the shoulder of his green breastplate marked him the leader of a wing of warriors. He was tall and ebony-haired, with yellow eyes like Rannick’s. His build was typical to the soldiers, broad shouldered and well-muscled. His wings were folded, plastered low, as if he was also aware he couldn’t get caught in the guest wing. He would’ve done better to make himself invisible, but perhaps he didn’t have much magic. Some Warriors were more brawn.

  Alana tried to read his emotions, but they weren’t overt, as if he was covered in some mild stealth spell—which would make sense if was up to no good. She narrowed her eyes and watched him hurry past her, around the corner from the same direction she’d come.

  He wasn’t a messenger, her father didn’t use Warriors in that capacity, and he certainly wasn’t Irish, as his uniform was Scottish. His plait had been down to his waist—indicating he had a place of prestige amongst his brothers.

  “So what are you doing here, sir?” she whispered to the empty hallway. She would see Xander as soon as she was finished with Seamus, and identify the soldier. Her gut told her his presence with her would-be-husband couldn’t be good.

  Perhaps Alana had some newborn leverage over Seamus after all?

  She cleared her throat and hurried to the door.

  Surprise washed over his expression when she answered his call to enter, but he schooled his expression and frowned. “Why are you here?”

  Thankfully he was dressed this time, his green doublet elegantly embroidered, and his trews a mixture of green and gold-spun threading that made them shine. His wide-sleeved under tunic was ivory and of the finest material.

  Alana smirked and curtseyed. “I cannot visit my betrothed? Good morning to you too, Your Highness.” Her heart skipped but she tried to hold onto the guise that she was the one in control with both hands. Should she ask about the soldier?

  Seamus paused and gave her a onceover. Then he started to pace and mutter how ridiculous she was.

  She swallowed and smoothed her gown as she took a seat on the gilded sofa in his sitting area. As her room had been decorated in colors she loved, this one was all green and gold. She crossed her legs and rested her hands on her lap while he continued to move around the furniture with a pattern of jerky steps.

  The prince’s voice got louder, his accusations more vile.

  Alana squared her shoulders and waited. She’d hold her tongue about the Fae Warrior for now, until she could corner him. She’d rarely seen Seamus lose his temper, and at another time, she might’ve been amused.

  He paused in his rant and pinned her with his emerald gaze. “I do not sense it.”

  “What?”

  “The filth inside you. Did you get rid of it?”

  Alana blinked. Should I lie?

  Her mind-shields were strongly engaged, so she’d get away with it if she declared, ‘aye’. Would it help her situation?

  Of course, there were magical ways—if one went to an obliging healer—to end an unwanted pregnancy, but she’d never do such a thing, even if she didn’t love her babe’s sire.

  My husband.

  Most healers were too gentle-spirited to agree to perform such a spell, but of course there were always some. Like in most situations, gold and jewels were sufficient motivators, and Alana didn’t have a shortage of either.

  “You’re not touching me, how could you sense anything?” she tried to deflect instead, arching an eyebrow at her nemesis.

  It was good to know the magic Xander had helped her put in place was working. Seamus had confirmed her pregnancy wouldn’t be discovered now.

  He narrowed his eyes, but came no closer. “Trust me, it’s not something I could forget the feeling of.”

  Alana released a humorless laugh. “Oh, Seamus, this is just me. You and I alone, you don’t have to pretend to be offended.”

  The prince let out a breath that made her heart skip.

  What’s he playing at?

  He couldn’t actually be hurt—she’d never imagined him capable.

  She’d never pretended interest in him, in all the years he’d chased her. There’d been no illusions in their…arrangement.

  He’d backed her into a corner; made vows he’d slaughter the MacLeods to get her to sign the betrothal agreement. She would’ve never agreed otherwise. That wasn’t a mystery to him, either.

  Was he bothered he’d failed to gain her as a conquest?

  Should I bring up the soldier now?

  She rose and skimmed her hand along the back of a chair and closed the distance between them.

  Seamus all but recoiled.

  Alana stilled. Bit back a smile. “What’s this? You don’t want to touch me?” Since their betrothal had been made public, he’d rarely kept his hands to himself, to the point she’d slapped him whenever they’d had no witnesses. At first chance she’d gotten. Every. Time. He always laughed, as if the move delighted him to no end.

  He scowled. “You’re tainted.”

  She giggled, couldn’t help it. Her smile was genuine. “You told me I could keep my human. You didn’t consider we were lovers? What purpose would he serve me otherwise?” A man like Seamus wouldn’t understand love, so she didn’t mention emotional ties. Plus, it would only mark Alex as her weakness in one more way for him to use against her later.

  The prince glowered, but said nothing.

  “You mentioned discretion; you did not say I could not give myself to him.”

  Seamus’ eyes shot to hers like daggers, and he made a noise in his throat.

  Alana caressed the soft upholstery of the chair suggestively, as if touching a man’s bare chest. She grinned when he scowled. “Besides, with no experience, how can I please you in bed? You should thank my human lover.”

  He bristled, pitched forward and made tight fists at his sides. “That is enough.”

  She bit her bottom lip to keep from beaming at his growl. Cautioned herself to put an end to taunting him, because even if she had some new unspoken fuel, Seamus was nothing to be trifled with.

  Alana should tread lightly, even if she was enjoying herself. “Oh, all right. I suppose we can discuss something else.” She waited until he
’d met her gaze again. “Would you like to tell me what a Scottish Fae Warrior was doing leaving your suite?”

  His eyes widened ever-so-slightly, but the prince schooled his expression fast—too fast. “I know not of what you speak.”

  “Perhaps I’m mistaken.”

  He watched her as she rounded the chair and plopped down in it, then crossed her legs again and rested her hands on her bent knee.

  Seamus blew out a breath and sat across from her, mirroring her posture, and sat up very straight. “To what do I really owe this little assignation, Alana?” His tone was guarded, and those green eyes were too tight for polite conversation.

  She must be getting to him, because he hadn’t mocked her by calling her ‘my love’ or ‘sweet princess’.

  “Did you come to tell me you’d taken care of your little indiscretion?” he asked before she could answer.

  Alana weighed things. Should she confirm? The magic would help her hide things; now she had no worries about that. Perhaps it would lessen his leverage on her about Alex. She could even tell him she’d given him up, and Seamus would have no reason to run to her father.

  She went for a regal expression, but then tried to appear aggrieved and hiding it. “Aye,” she whispered. “I’m not a fool, ‘twas for the best.”

  He studied her, then nodded. “‘Tis for the best,” he echoed.

  She snorted. “Don’t console me, Your Highness.”

  Seamus cocked his head to one side, still appraising her. Moments ticked by before he spoke. “I…this is unexpected.”

  “What else could I do, really?” Alana swallowed and blinked so her eyes would water. She averted her gaze, and swiped at her cheeks as if she couldn’t stop crying.

  “I assumed you would hold to your human until I pried him away from you.” His gaze was still shrewd, unapologetic when she looked back at him.

  Evil wretch.

  “I’m not that selfish, Seamus. I won’t put his clan at risk, because of you. It’s…” She made her voice wobble, “over.” She called herself a selfish liar for denying Alex and their child, but it would ensure their survival—and protect all the MacLeods from his wrath.