by C. A. Szarek
She could only pray it would work.
“I am pleased.”
Alana tried not to wince. She told herself again, this plan is for the best.
“I’m glad you came to tell me.” The bastard had the nerve to smile now, but he still didn’t reach for her.
She tried not to give into another smirk.
I guess I’m still tainted.
“Is there anything else?” Seamus asked after a new silence fell.
She drummed her fingertips on her knee. Until she’d seen the Scottish winged-warrior exiting his room, she’d come to beg. Now that her ruse was in place to protect what she loved, so she didn’t need to bluff him about the soldier. Nor would she. Maybe she could have him trapped for a change.
Alana leaned forward. “I know you’re up to something. More than wheedling a betrothal agreement out of me. There’s more to your plan, Prince Seamus of the Irish Fae. You and I both know there’s no reason for one of my father’s Warriors to be in your rooms.”
To his credit, Seamus didn’t flinch or look surprised, nor did he look threatened, like she’d wanted. He appeared proud of himself; it was plain from the jut of his chin and how he straightened his shoulders.
Maybe she should’ve allowed Xander to accompany her, and held Seamus in his seat by swordpoint. Demand the prince loosen his lips, lest he be run through. But she wasn’t stupid, and she didn’t need her cousin’s help, even if a part of her would love to see her betrothed bloodied.
The presence of a soldier from her Court in his rooms could only mean her suspicions about his ambitions weren’t just a concern.
He didn’t plan to gain two thrones through marriage and letting their fathers’ reigns run their natural courses.
Seamus was plotting, with her own people.
To kill my father?
He didn’t have to confirm—not that he would.
Instinct told her to there was more to his scheme.
She would have to watch.
And wait.
Chapter Twenty-two
The babe in her arms made everything worth it. Although she did worry about Xander, and the situation in the Field of Light, but he’d shouted at her to go. She’d have to trust him to handle the other Fae Warriors, and use whatever magic was called for.
Besides, it wasn’t like Alana had had a choice. Her son had been demanding, and as it was she’d barely made it to the Human Realm before he’d made his appearance.
Alex sniffled, as if he was trying not to cry, and she looked up into her husband’s face, unable to keep the smile off her own.
She’d have to leave the tiny lad with him, but she didn’t want to focus on that. For now, she’d hold and nurse her son while her husband had them both wrapped in his strong arms on the loamy floor of the Cave of the Faery Stones.
They sat on a fresh MacLeod plaid, and Alana was clad in clean chemise compliments of Alex’s sister. Their location was modest, but she’d never been happier.
She’d only met Janet MacLeod a few times, but the lass was loving and sweet, and she’d done a fantastic job helping to deliver her child. In many ways, she was a warrior like her brothers.
Alana had called out to Alex mentally, clutching her contracting stomach when she’d stumbled through the portal. His brother, father, and sister had come with him and brought supplies, and had stayed for their son’s birth.
She’d had to lift the magic obscuring the cave; she never would’ve made it up to the ridge. Blinking during pregnancy could be dangerous, and she’d been in too much pain to concentrate enough for it anyway.
Before she left, she’d put her spells back and place and the MacLeods would all forget the location of the Faery Stones, even though they’d all been inside the cave.
His family had quietly receded to give them privacy, but Alex’s very brave sister was close by with swaddling and a basket to take their babe when the time came, so they could go on with the ruse they had to carry out to protect them all.
Their tiny halfling would be placed at the massive gates of Dunvegan, with a note that Alex MacLeod was his sire, and his mother expected him to be ‘taken in’ by his blood.
It didn’t sit well that her husband’s clan would assume her child was the bastard of a whore, but they had no choice…yet. No one but his immediate family knew of Alana or their marriage.
“Jesu, he’s beautiful.” Alex’s stubbled cheek rubbed hers as he held her closer, her back plastered to his chest. He rocked her gently as the baby suckled and caressed their son’s downy dark head, a soft smile curving his lush mouth. His voice was thick with emotion, and made her eyes sting.
“I love him so much. And I love, you.” Her voice broke and her husband kissed her temple.
“I know, mò chridhe. I love ye both as well. My heart his full.” His last sentence was whispered, as if he’d not want to be overheard.
“What’ll we call him?”
“Angus, after my grandda?” Alex asked.
“Angus MacLeod.” Alana tested the name on her tongue. “I like it.” She smiled.
“‘Tis a good, braw name.”
“Raise him right, my love.” She swallowed a sob as the words broke and sorrow descended.
“Alana.” Her name was all fierce warning.
She shook her head as Alex leaned back so he could look into her face.
He wore a frown. “Alana, I need ye.”
“I know.” She bit her bottom lip to keep it from wobbling and blinked to clear her vision.
They’d talked, argued, shouted about what she had to do dozens of times. Alex would declare he understood one moment and rage about it the next, promising to slay Seamus himself. They’d both cry, hold each other and make love, but there was no light at the end of the tunnel.
Alana still had to return to the Fae Realm.
Now leaving behind her child.
In the months following her witnessing the Scottish Fae Warrior leaving Seamus’ quarters, Xander hadn’t discovered much. He agreed that the Irish prince was plotting, and like her, assumed it was to vie for the throne, but their quiet investigations hadn’t yielded any fruit.
Her cousin was keeping an eye on the wing leader, whose name was Tamhas, but his dealings with the prince were still very much unknown, as well as how many others conspired with them. They were smart, and had magic on their side. She’d not caught them together again, either.
“I canna raise him alone.” Alex cupped Angus’ head in one large hand and caressed his son’s little ear with a calloused thumb.
She swallowed and sniffled. “You’re not alone. You have Duncan, and your father. Janet will do well by Angus, I feel it in my gut.” Again, her sentence quivered. She was about to leave her newborn in the care of a lass who’d just turned six and ten. Even if Janet was mature, she was still a child.
“I feel as if I’ve lost ye again,” her husband whispered.
“You’ve never lost me, Alex MacLeod. And you never will.” Alana pinned him with a glare, but he was staring at their son.
The light of Faery Stones glowed behind them, brightening the area, and making his sable locks seem lighter. The crystals called to her magic, and to the magic she sensed in the small body of her son. He would likely have a strong draw to the Stones, like her.
The apple of Alex’s throat bobbed. “I know nothin’ about carin’ fer a bairn.”
“It’s a good thing there are female MacLeods.”
He met her gaze and a smile rippled his lips.
At least her attempt at lightening their very serious situation hadn’t missed its mark.
She was glad her remark hadn’t upset him. Alana wouldn’t mention the loss of his mother; it was too fresh, and from what she understood, a long time in coming. She wished she could’ve helped with healing magic, but some ailments, Fae and Human alike, couldn’t be cured. She wasn’t much of a healer anyway, although she did know a few spells. Her magic didn’t seem diminished in the Human Realm like her cousin’s,
but powers that didn’t come naturally were.
Weeks ago, the day after Lady Catriona’s passing, her husband had expressed sadness his mother would never see their child, and Alana had comforted him as best she could. It’d been so long since Alana had lost her own mother, but she remembered the pain and often thought of her.
Her father would never see Angus, either.
To protect him.
Hopefully, even though her husband, his siblings and father had lost a beloved family member, welcoming the new babe, son, nephew and grandson would ease them in some way.
“Thank ye fer my son, mò chridhe. But I wish ye were goin’ home wit’ us.” His voice was thick again, broken.
Alana’s heart plummeted to her gut and burned. “I wish I could. You have to know that.”
“I do,” Alex whispered. “But it dinna soften tha blow.”
She crushed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to bicker with him, wasting the remaining time they had together. It was going to slay her to walk away from Angus, even if he was safe with his father, aunt and grandfather. Even Duncan would be there for her laddie.
As her husband had said, none of that knowledge softened the blow.
“I’m sorry,” Alex croaked. “I know isna easy fer ye. Anamore than ‘tis fer me.”
Alana stared down at the perfect creature nuzzling her breast. “It’s harder. I carried him for all these months. Felt him moving inside me—” Her voice broke on a sob and he squeezed her against him.
She’d felt Angus’ magic growing with him, and thought about teaching him everything he’d need to know. Then she cried over what she’d miss, since her son would be with his father in the Human Realm and any visits she made would be the same stolen hours she’d had to manage since she’d met her husband.
No one else could teach Angus about his powers, or how to control them, so Alana would have to do her best with limited time.
Alex fired off a string of comfort and love in Gaelic, right above her ear and she fought shudders, but was grateful for his physical warmth at her back, of his arms around her.
How was she going to survive this?
“I want ta kill tha’ bastard.”
“If only you could. Xander feels the same, but we just can’t. We need to figure out what he’s planning. Since I confronted him, he’s been even more guarded.”
“Ye know nothin’ more?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been very lucky he still doesn’t want to touch me, and the magic Xander helped me put in place remained all this time. Hid Angus and my huge belly.”
Alex growled. “He’d better nay lay his hands on ye.”
Alana smiled and kissed him lightly. “You have nothing to be jealous of, my love.”
Her husband rumbled—something she heard and felt in her shoulders.
“I’m tainted. Perhaps you are the reason Seamus has not mentioned nary a word about when we shall marry. Our fathers haven’t finalized their negotiations, but the prince is not nearly as eager for them to do so. He hasn’t tried to coax me to his bed, or come near me in some time.”
“‘Tis tha’ supposed ta comfort me?” He smirked.
She giggled. “Of course.”
He grumbled, but a smile rippled his mouth.
Alana shifted their son to her other breast and he fussed until he latched onto her nipple. She soothed him with soft words in Fae, which Alex echoed above her ear in Gaelic.
She smiled and settled back into his chest, clenching her jaw to stave away negative emotions. She didn’t want to go. Ever.
“My place is here with you and Angus,” she whispered.
Alex didn’t speak, but she heard his quick intake of breath.
“I mean, I don’t see my fate being the Queen of the Scottish Court. But Seamus will not be a good king. My father is fierce and can be bloodthirsty, but he’s a good king, Alex. Seamus’ father is also a good king. I’m actually fond of him. I can’t abandon my people to Seamus. I have to find out what he’s up to, and tell my father, but I cannot do so until I have proof. If my father banishes or executes him for treason, his threat to the MacLeods would have no power. Only then will I be free.”
She heard him swallow next to her ear, and let him turn her face so he could kiss her. It was a light brush of his mouth on hers, but it still made her heart skip.
“I understand,” Alex pushed the words against her lips.
Alana closed her eyes and let him deepen the kiss.
* * * *
Watching her go nearly buckled his knees, but Alex forced himself to remain upright and not cling too hard to the small bundle against his chest. He looked down at the sleeping babe in his arms and his breath caught.
Fragile. Gorgeous.
His son needed him.
Perhaps all parents thought their new child perfect, but his son was a mix of Alana’s beauty and his own features, down to his dark hair, little nose, and big blue eyes.
How was he going to do this on his own?
Alex needed his wife by his side.
“Alex?” Janet’s soft voice came from behind him, and his sister sidled up to him and touched his hand. “Are you ready?”
Nay.
Alana was gone, so he’d never be ready.
“Aye, lass,” he whispered and gently transferred little Angus to Janet’s arms.
His sister quickly swaddled him in an ivory wool blanket and put him in the basket. Under his tiny form, she placed a scrap of MacLeod plaid and the note written in Alana’s hand.
Alex’s name was scrawled on the outside of it, and looking at it tightened his gut. He swallowed.
“Dinna worry,” Janet said. “Cousin Cormac will find him soon, an’ I’ve already readied tha nursery.”
A room he and his brother had shared as wee ones, but he remembered when his sister had joined them as a tiny infant. They’d been seven years old.
Alex hugged his sister when she straightened. “Thank ye, Janey.”
Their gazes brushed and the understanding in her blue eyes just about slayed him. She was too young to be that mature. Her childhood had been stolen for over three years now.
“It’ll be all right, brother. I promise.” A small smile curved her mouth when she looked down at the basket between them.
His heart skipped for a different reason. Janet had taken their mother’s passing harder than he or his twin, so to see even the grief lift from her pretty face even a little bit was a relief. His son was a blessing for many reasons.
“He is a beautiful bairn.”
“Aye, like his mother.” Alex’s voice cracked, but he couldn’t hold his emotions back. Like he’d told Alana, he felt like he’d lost her.
His sister reached for his forearm and squeezed. “I’ll take him now. See you a’ home?”
“Aye.”
Janet nodded and smiled, this time wider. She pushed to her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Her floral soap teased his nose, and her hair brushed his face, tickled.
She lifted the basket, and Alex watched until she was gone.
“Lad?”
He glanced over his shoulder to see the tired lines in his father’s face, but he smiled for the man who’d supported him without question from the moment he’d found out about Alana. “I canna do this alone, Da.”
Iain squeezed his forearm, much like his sister had. “Yer no’ alone, lad. Ye have Duncan and Janey. An’ me. As long as there’s a MacLeod, yer ne’er alone, and neither will yer bairn be.”
Alex nodded and looked down at the rocky sand covering the beach. The familiar disorientation scrambled his brain when he studied the area below the ridge, and thought about the Faery Stones. He knew of them, but to protect them all, Alana made it so he couldn’t remember where they were or what they looked like. Trying to remember made his head hurt. Like something locked in the back of his mind, there but hazy.
“I know it, Da, and I am grateful. ‘Tis just…I feel as if I’ve lost her.”
Sorrow darted across his father’s face and drew his graying eyebrows tight.
Guilt hit his gut and spread up his chest. Alana was just somewhere else. His father had lost his wife to the hereafter. At least Alex and his tiny son would see her again. Hold her again. “I’m sorry, Da.” His voice cracked.
Iain’s smile was sad. “‘Tis no worry, my lad. Ye dinna lose your wife, no’ like I lost mine. Remember tha’. Hold onta her while ye can. Someday soon, Alana will be where she’s supposed ta be. In tha meantime, care fer yer laddie, he needs ye as much as ye need him.”
Alex smiled and clapped his father’s shoulder. “Ye need him, too, I suspicion.”
For the first time, the older man’s smile was more natural, open. “I do. ‘Twill be good ta hear tha laughter and joy of a bairn a’ Dunvegan again. With yer mother…ill, we dinna get ta laugh nearly enough. But I worry o’er yer laddie’s name.”
He frowned. “Why, Da?”
The twinkle was back in his father’s tired blue eyes. “My da could be a mean git. Hopin’ yer lad will be more like ye than him.”
Alex chuckled. “I remember Grandda fondly.”
His father laughed. “Ye knew of him less years than I.”
He shook his head, but he couldn’t stop grinning. It felt good to laugh with his father.
“I shall always miss your mother,” Iain whispered, breaking their companionable silence.
“I know, Da. I loved her, too. An’ I’ll miss her as weel. I’ll tell Angus how bonnie she was, dinna worry o’er tha’.”
The older man’s eyes went misty, but he still wore a soft smile. “Come, lad, let us go have some ale in the hall. ‘Tis a man’s proper place when a babe comes.”
Alex chuckled again. “Ye jus’ need an excuse ta fall inta yer cups.”
“Nay, son, I ne’er need an excuse for tha’.” His father beamed.
He shook his head and gestured for Iain to lead the way to their waiting mounts. With one glance back at the waves, Alex was able to give another smile. He had a feeling his wee laddie would carry the light of his mother inside him. He didn’t have to worry about Angus at all.