The Princess and the Laird

by C. A. Szarek

  “Aye, he’d tol’ me humans dinna block their thoughts. Could drive a man mad.”

  She nodded, and caressed his chest. “I worry for him. I pray he can find some release. Maybe…love?”

  He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “I shall pray fer him, too. What he did for ye, us… I canna e’er repay him.”

  Alana’s eyes closed and her breasts rose again with another breath. “I love him, as I love you and Angus. I do not want him to resent me for giving up his life…his realm. I cannot believe he cut his braid off.”

  Alex pulled her down onto his chest and she nestled under his chin. He breathed in her scent and closed his eyes, too. “He shall no’ resent ye, mò chridhe. Yer cousin loves ye, too. If he dinna, he wouldna be here.”

  “I made him a traitor.” Her whisper was so low he’d almost missed it.

  “Ye dinna. ‘Tis o’er, love. Seamus is gone, and ye are where ye should be. If we are fated, perhaps ‘tis Xander’s fate ta live here a’ Dunvegan as weel. I could always use ‘nother warrior. I shall ask him ta join tha men abou’ tha yard.”

  His wife lifted her head and smile. “Being useful would be good for him, thank you, my love.”

  Alex smiled. “Angus is o’er the moon tha’ yer cousin is here.”

  She giggled and his heart lifted a tad more. “I know; I love that. I’m glad they get on so well. It doesn’t matter if we’re there are here, Alex, he would defend us to the death.”

  “An’ I’m grateful fer tha’ and dinna plan ta take tha’ role from him.”

  Her expression softened and her eyes went misty. “I love you.”

  “I know.” He winked and skimmed two fingers down her cheek. Then he sobered. “Yer Da shall no’ come after us now?” He’d been worrying over it for the two weeks they’d been home, and had secretly readied his brother and their men for a possible attack.

  Alex feared her answer, so he hadn’t asked.

  Alana’s flaxen tresses shifted with the shake of her head. “He’s banished me, executed Seamus, and I don’t think he has a desire to punish me further. He could’ve ordered my death; instead he left me in the tower, and I think in his own way, my father showed me mercy because he couldn’t show me affection. I often wonder if Seamus’ plot was really the reason I was spared, you were spared. I never knew if he loved my mother, or if he could love. Maybe he showed me he can, just a little.”

  He snorted, but he pondered her words. His wife may have been raised in extravagance, but he’d been raised with love. He was grateful Alana had had love from her mother, and from her cousin, who’d both shaped her. She could’ve turned out more like her father, cold and unfeeling.

  She walked two fingers down his chest and his attention snapped back to her when his wife rubbed her pelvis against his. “You’re much improved, my laird.”

  “Meanin’?”

  “You’ve always been a wonderful lover…but somehow ‘tis different now. Better. My Alex is like wine, improved with age.”

  Alex growled and gripped her hips, encouraging her to straddle him. “An’ here I thought ye may be concerned fer my health.”

  Alana winked and obeyed, sliding her leg over him and rubbing her sex on his hardening shaft. “Perhaps I’m too selfish for that. But, you weren’t out of breath.” She leaned down and brushed her breasts on him.

  He tried not to pant. “I’m braw,” he repeated, because his brain had shut down and he wasn’t capable of a proper retort.

  “Show me.”

  “Yer ridin’ me, lass, so ye show me.”

  His wife smirked, but rose to his challenge and did just that.

  * * * *

  Alana woke on a gasp and shot to a sitting position. It took her only moments to orient, but the arousal coursing through her blood captured her focus more than her surroundings or the room—the bed—she was in.

  She was naked, and her sex pulsated. The chill in the air was almost welcome on her overheated skin, the gooseflesh on her arms a pleasant contradiction.

  Of its own accord, her hand traveled downward. Fingers skimmed her breasts and belly, then she cupped her mons, to support it. To stop the ache there.

  She parted her already slick folds, but the sense of emptiness only increased, and her sensitive nub gave a throbbing protest.

  “Are ye startin’ somethin’ wit’out me?” The playful rumble made her gaze jump to the end of her husband’s oversized bed. His question was wrapped in amusement, but the look in his sapphire eyes was intense. He had not a stitch of clothing on, and stared at her over his shoulder.

  She studied at his bare form as he stood in front of a healthy fire in the large hearth. The light of the dancing flames cast shadows over his broad shoulders, back, thighs, and she tried not to frown. They’d been home for almost a month, but Alex’s body wasn’t the same.

  The king had at least fed her regularly during their six months of captivity, but her love had been in the dungeon where torture was more common than a meal.

  Xander had done what he could, but she would be eternally grateful for Duncan and Claire as much as her cousin. Her brother-by-marriage and his new wife had gotten them out.

  Although her husband was gorgeous no matter what, he was still too lean, despite the weight he’d gained in the time they’d been back. Of course, her stubborn laird proclaimed he was fine, but Alana couldn’t release her concern entirely.

  Alex faced her, and her eyes went up and down his body again. She feasted on his half-mast erection. Worry for his physique dissipated as he stalked to the bed. The play of his muscles was still beautiful and fired her desire, shouting that he was indeed braw, as he always declared.

  “Alana…” Her name was a plea, and his manhood thickened as she watched.

  “I was dreaming,” she whispered, reaching for him as he climbed onto the bed on all fours and loomed above her.

  She dragged two fingers down his chest, caressing the sparse springy hair, and kissed the underside of his stubbled chin, because it was all she could reach.

  Alana wanted his mouth, wanted his weight on top of her. She was searing for him from the inside out, and she’d already had him twice since they’d retired to their chambers after evening meal. Having Alex was never enough.

  “Dreamin’ of what?” He hovered over her, his lips inches from hers as she lay back on the linens, inviting him to come closer.

  “You.”

  “Ye need no’ dream of what ‘tis reality.”

  She grinned and cupped his face. “Kiss me, husband. Make my dream come to be.”

  He growled and took her mouth. Alex wasn’t gentle, but Alana didn’t need that. Bruising pressure, full of tangling demanding tongues and nipping teeth was just as well, but maybe even more so, since it was him.

  Her Alex, her husband, her laird, her love.

  The smart of tenderized lips didn’t matter, either. Need burned through her, tightening her muscles as she urged him to lower himself on top of her. She kissed him back with that same intensity, nibbling as his mouth slanted over hers.

  Over the years, their lovemaking had always been hurried and frantic, not the leisurely sessions of exploration and drawn out pleasure they’d shared since she’d been in his bed.

  The time together had always been stolen, and intimacy less frequent when the purpose of her visits was more focused on their son.

  Alana needed this, needed Alex wild, like when they’d first gotten together. Hard and fast and full of ecstasy.

  She whimpered and threw her head back when he dragged his tongue along her jawline and she answered by running her nails down his back.

  Her love groaned above her ear, and his encouragement shot anticipation down her spine.

  She squeezed his rear end and rubbed her pelvis against his. The heated hard length brushing her hip was too much of a tease.

  He wasn’t in the right place, and she didn’t want to wait.

  Alex enclosed one of her nipples in his hot mouth and she arched her
back, releasing a long moan. Heat blasted lower, until her inner thighs were trembling and her sex pulsing.

  Empty.

  She needed him inside her.

  Now.

  Alana cried out and kneaded his biceps, wrapping her legs around him and digging her heels into the perfect globes she’d squeezed moments before.

  Her husband got her message.

  He fumbled, but released her breast and pushed his hand between them. Then he was there, filling her with a firm shove forward, and she clung to him.

  Alex took her hard, driving forward faster with every thrust.

  As if he’d read her mind.

  The headboard of the four-poster bed smacked into the wall with a rhythmic thunk-thunk that was as intoxicating as the movement of his hips.

  Over and over, his pelvis rocked, rubbed and hit hers. It didn’t take long for her to soar, and Alana tossed her head into the pillows, chanting his name as her sex clenched around his.

  Her husband groaned again. He pulled out of her only to slam back inside and grunt his release as her body milked his.

  Alex stilled above her, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the long dark hair curtaining his face, and his cheeks flushed with color. His lips were swollen from hers, and he’d never been more beautiful.

  She reached for him, pushing his locks away so she could see his eyes. She traced his lips with her index finger, and then his powerful jaw.

  He smiled and kissed her palm. The peace in his sated expression washed over her as gently separated their bodies and lay beside her.

  Alana needed to be in his arms.

  Again, as if he’d plucked the thoughts from her head, he pulled her to him, wrapping her in an embrace.

  Words failed her, but perhaps they didn’t need to speak.

  He stroked her shoulders, then down her back, sure familiar touches with big calloused hands that melted her into his side, and she rested her cheek on his chest.

  His scent, part Alex, part her, and part them, washed over her and she closed her eyes.

  “I love ye.” Her husband’s voice was a low rumble right above her ear.

  Alana smiled, and their gazes collided. “And I you.”

  “‘Tis been a month, but sometimes, I still dinna believe yer here.”

  The rush of his emotions hit her magic, and she was sad for the time they lost—again. “I know. But I am. I’m here to stay.” She forced a smile; the other night, he’d admonished her to look forward, not back, and she needed to cling to that.

  Alana had a new reason to be happy, and she had yet to tell him.

  “Mò chridhe,” Alex whispered.

  She snuggled into his side again and pressed a soft kiss right over his heart. “I’m going to give you another child.”

  Her husband arched an eyebrow and peered at her. “Aye? Ye can tell already?”

  She giggled, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I feel it…here.” Alana placed her hand over her own heart. “Would that please you?” she whispered.

  “A bairn?”

  She nodded.

  “Ye please me,” Alex growled, leaning over and taking her nipple into his mouth. He laved her, until she wiggled against him and moaned.

  “Again?” she breathed.

  “Again,” he grunted against her skin as he kissed and licked his way over her breasts, paying them equal attention before moving across her belly, downward, and nipping her inner thighs.

  He teased her some more, making her a wriggling, begging mess in his arms, before he licked her sex.

  Heat shot low and hot like before, and Alana buried her hands in his hair. It was thick, but when she tugged he made a noise in his throat as if to encourage her pulls.

  Alex kept working magic at her center, and she focused on how he made her feel, calling his name as she came in his mouth.

  His expression was satisfied as he shot up her body and pushed his erection into her still-boneless body.

  Alana gasped, but she’d never refuse him. She’d never get enough of this man.

  He caressed her cheek and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Aye, a new bairn would please me,” he whispered. “Are ye sure yer carryin’ one?”

  Her core throbbed with a demand for him to move, and passion clouded her head. She had trouble comprehending his words.

  “Mò chridhe?”

  “I…it’s…too soon to be sure, truly.”

  Their gazes brushed and he flashed a lopsided grin. “Then, let us be sure, Your Highness.” He groaned with his first thrust into her.

  Alana closed her eyes and held on.

  Epilogue

  Alana smiled at her son’s laughter and her husband’s chuckle as Alex chased Angus with a wooden sword.

  “Come face me wit’out magic, ye scoundrel!” he shouted, but their lad ignored him.

  Angus shook his head and grinned, and her heart skipped. He looked so much like the man she loved. He took off running toward the castle, with his father yelling empty threats at him.

  It’d taken much, much too long to come to this moment. Finally they were able to live as a family at Dunvegan.

  Ten years, wasted.

  Seeing the child she’d bore with the love of her life month to month, or even every sennight, had never been enough.

  Her son had never suffered from her absence—he’d had his da, loving aunt, grandfa, and now a new aunt, since Duncan had recently married, but the whole Clan of MacLeods didn’t fix the ache in her heart.

  Her lad had been raised well, but the guilt wouldn’t heal for a long time to come. She’d missed so much, but he was a fine lad who showed her as much affection as she showed him.

  Neither she, nor her cousin could ever return to the Fae Realm. Alana had happily come to terms with that, but her cousin was still struggling, even after the months they’d been at Dunvegan. Xander had sunk into himself and stayed there, and she was concerned. Hopefully he’d let the love of the MacLeods embrace him like she had.

  She rubbed her rounded tummy. She carried a lass this time, as her magic told her, and her heart couldn’t be fuller.

  It shall be different this time.

  Alana would never leave her husband and son, or her daughter, ever again.

  Alex trotted over to her, and his smile fell. “What’s wrong, mò chridhe?”

  “Nothing, my love.” She reached for his hand, and when he complied she brought his calloused knuckles to her mouth and brushed kisses over them.

  He smiled, but didn’t look convinced.

  The laird had finally filled out again, and looking like the handsome, muscular man who’d stolen Alana’s heart.

  His hair was as long as his brother’s and he’d told her he wouldn’t give short hair a try again, although that was how Alana would always remember seeing him on the beach all those years ago. Alex didn’t think it suited him, but she’d take him as he was, so it didn’t matter.

  “Stop thinkin’, Your Highness.” He gently pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “‘Tis a fine day, and ye possess magic.”

  “Magic? What of it?”

  He flashed a lopsided grin that had her heart pattering. “I need it ta pay yer son back.”

  Alana giggled. “You’re trying to take revenge on a lad of ten?”

  “Only if ye help me, a’ course.”

  She grinned. “Very well, my laird, let us retrieve your son.”

  “I shall no’ have it any other way.” Alex brushed a kiss on her mouth and looped her arm in his.

  Together they went toward home.

  The End

  Check out Claire and Duncan’s Story, in The Tartan MP3 Player!

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  Chapter One

  She was dreaming. Again.

  Rock music blared from the earbuds in her ears, and Claire ran harder. Somehow the treadmill had more resistance than usual. Felt funny under her feet, too.

  Bare feet?

  No running shoes?

&nb
sp; When she looked down, she paused. Shock washed over her. Brought her to a screeching halt from her dead run.

  She wasn’t on a treadmill. And she was—

  Naked?

  Claire didn’t have on a stitch of clothing.

  “What the hell?”

  She wiggled her toes and damp, gritty sand squished between them.

  “Where the hell am I?” Yanking the buds from her ears, she let them drape over her shoulders and searched her memory.

  Nada.

  Panic rose from her gut, and she started to shake all over. Claire sucked a breath and watched her bare breasts rise and fall.

  Frigid sea mist kissed her skin and she shivered.

  A beach? Seriously?

  What an odd dream.

  If she wasn’t naked and freezing, it might be pleasant to run on the beach…wherever the heck she was.

  She approached the water, but the moment the cold liquid touched her toes, she jumped back. The scent of salt in the sea spray shook her again.

  The ocean? Which one?

  She’d never been to the ocean before, so it was a tossup.

  Claire’s gaze shot skyward when two gulls called to each other. They flew overhead, crossed paths, and then one dove for the water.

  Weird, everything’s so vivid.

  No one was in sight, and neither was any sort of boat or shelter. But further from the water, the terrain became riddled with cliffs.

  She couldn’t see over the closest ridge, which sat about six or seven feet high.

  A screaming heavy metal song blared from her headphones, clashing with the peaceful morning around her.

  At least she thought it was morning.

  Clouds littered the sky, covering the sun, but it wasn’t dark out. Her gut said morning, even if she couldn’t tell what time it was.

  “Okay, Claire. It’s cold. Wake up.” She backed even further from the water, shaking out her long blond hair.

  Her hair tie was gone too.

  Claire winced. When her fingertips passed over a tangle, and she had to work it free. Her scalp throbbed.

  “Pain. Also feels real.”