HIGHLANDER: The Highlander’s Surrender Bride (Scottish Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance)

by Tencia Winters

  “Ah, Signorina, stai bene?”

  Alisa just nodded, smiling through a gritted jaw as they continued their four hour drive from Florence. The airplane had landed and she had exited the terminal to find her driver not only was planning to take her to the Villa Della Rosa in a taxi from the mid nineteen seventies, but that he also spoke no English. Alisa had brushed up on a few of the more common phrases: she could say things like, ‘hi, nice to meet you’ and ‘where is the bathroom’ but as they made it farther and farther away from the populated city, his rambling and rustic Italian became impossible for her to translate.

  She pulled out her Italian to English dictionary, flipping through the pages until she found what she thought he had asked her.

  “No, non ho fame.” No, I’m not hungry. She replied in a terrible accent that made him once again look over his shoulder at her. Out of the front window of the car she just make out the large boulder directly in front of them, slightly obscured by the flurries of snow that the sky had been spitting out more and more the farther north they drove.

  “Look! Watch out!” She pointed wildly at the rock in the road, and he turned around, jerking the wheel to the left and swerving the car out of its path just in time to avoid a head on collision. The movement sent her sliding again on the slippery material and it took a moment to right herself.

  As she scooted back to her seat on the passenger’s side she resolutely looked out the window at the ever darkening sky. She knew winter in Italy, especially northern Italy, would come with unpredictable weather but she had her finger’s crossed that they would make it to the rental home in one piece with the way Matteo was driving.

  Well, this was definitely not how she expected her vacation to start, Alisa thought to herself. But, to tell the truth, none of this had happened the way it was supposed to. She cast her thoughts back to the funeral that she had come from no more than a few days before and a wave of sadness threatened to overwhelm her. Her grandmother was the only family Alisa had, and now she was gone.

  It seemed like just yesterday that Grands was yelling at her about something. How she spent too much time at work, didn't get out enough, didn't enjoy life enough. It was her grandmother that had finally pushed her into taking the trip she had always wanted to, although she hadn’t planned on taking it until the following summer. Alisa just couldn’t stand the thought of spending Christmas alone in that big house, all by herself.

  Her father had been out of the picture long before she was born, and her mother had soon followed, swallowed up by a life of drugs and bad decisions. Her grandmother had taken her in, had raised her as her own. She had been there for every scraped knee and broken heart. And now she was gone.

  Alisa blinked back the threat of tears, looking out onto the mountainous, exotic scenery. It had been a stroke of pure luck that the travel agency had been able to switch her rental dates on such short notice, and now she was just a few miles away from the authentic Italian villa that she would call home for the next two weeks.

  Excitement bubbled through her, despite the answering pulse of sadness that she knew only time would be able to heal, as she looked around. Another feeling emerged at the sight of the roiling black clouds that seemed to be moving ever closer.

  Hastily, she flipped through her translation dictionary. “Um, è vero… uh, dovrebbe farlo?” She pointed out at the sky, the dark skin of her fingers almost disappearing against the darkness swallowing up the afternoon sun outside. She had been prepared for the cold, but this storm looked like something else. It looked bad. Is it supposed to look like this?

  Matteo the taxi driver ducked forward, examining the sky above them for a brief moment before stepping on the gas, the engine choking loudly but speeding up a little on the incline while making the catholic symbol to ward off evil. Well, that can’t be good, Alisa thought uneasily as she turned back to her window.

  She released a massive sigh of relief as, after a few more tension fraught moments, they pulled up a gravel drive in front a very old looking authentic rose colored stone building. The Villa Della Rosa. It meant the house of the rose, because of the massive rose quartz stones they had incorporated into the main building some hundreds of years ago when it was first built. And it was all hers for the next two weeks. She could have squealed in excitement as she got out, grabbing her suitcase, and sending a quick wave to the taxi driver as she pulled the gold key out of the envelope from the travel agent and walked up the small stone path to the front entrance.

  Alisa paused for a moment, remembering how ecstatic grands had been when she had found out about this trip. It had weighed on her, whether she should take this trip or not, but for the first time since her grandmother’s death, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

  With a small smile curving the corners of her full lips, Alisa reached out to unlock the door to find it...open. She paused, her smile fading as she slowly, cautiously, pushed it open. It was already unlocked! A wave of trepidation fluttered in her stomach, and for a moment she turned around, about to hail Matteo only to find the taxi and its driver long gone, its red tail lights barely visible through the snow that was now coming down in a steady stream. It was becoming almost impossible to see anything and resolutely, she turned back towards the door. If she couldn’t go back that meant that the only option left was to go forward.

  Chapter 2

  Alisa carefully stepped into the main room, a part of her instantly charmed at the cozy, rustic decor of the villa. It was a strange mix of luxury and down home that she instantly appreciated. A small wooden boat sat next to a marble statue. An old cuckoo clock held just as prominent of a place as a fine art painting, and as she looked a little closer, it appeared to be the real deal.

  She pulled herself back to the situation at hand, realizing suddenly that all the lights were on. Why would all of the lights be on? And there was a fire burning cheerfully in the large granite fireplace. What was going on here? This was supposed to be hers, and hers alone for the next two weeks. A peaceful, solitary vacation where she could unwind, relax, and grieve on her own.

  As quietly as she could, she set her large suitcase down on the gleaming rose wood floor and just as cautiously dug out her cell phone just in case she need to call the police, or whatever they were called in Italy. Alisa looked down at it and sighed when she saw that there were no bars. No service. Great.

  With a quick scan of the room, she decided the three foot long fire poker with the spear tip would be her best option, and grabbing it, walked through the main space of the room into a bathroom. It was empty. She tried the bedrooms next, quickly pushing each door open as she walked down the narrow hallway. All empty.

  She was about to put the heavy wrought iron fire poker down when she heard a noise, instantly making her heart race wildly in her chest. It was coming from the end of the hallway. There was a single door, and a bright light shone from the gap below it. Swallowing hard, Alisa advanced slowly, pricking her ears to try and hear anything else.

  Just as she neared the other side, she stopped, ice flooding her veins as the noise sounded again. She leaned against the warm wood of the door, pressing her ear against it in the hopes of detecting what it was. Fear was thick and acidic in her mouth as the loud noise sounded again, and confusion soon followed. It was singing. Someone was singing.

  Squinting her nose in uncertainty, she listened for another moment. There was no doubt. Someone was belting out loud, slightly off key, Italian and Alisa allowed herself a moment of relief that it wasn’t some ax murderer or psychopath. Temper rushed in as the earlier fear fled. This was supposed to be hers for two weeks. Resolutely, she pushed open the door, striding into what must have been the kitchen. Alisa froze.

  The warm light of candles surrounded the charming open space full of warm wood cabinets and a huge wood burning oven. A large island, made of the same wood, stood in the center of the room and a small table set against the windows with two wood backed chairs finished the space. Bu
t that wasn’t what had made her stop.

  There, in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by heaps of flour and sugar and dozens of broken eggshells was the most handsome man Alisa had ever seen in her entire twenty six years. And he was completely naked.

  “Um, excuse me?” She ventured softly. He didn’t hear her at first, concentrating as he was on the massive pile of dough he was kneading in front of him.

  “H...Hello?” This time she said it a little louder and he jolted around, and the delicate dough he had been working on hit the marble tiled floor with a dull thud. He looked down at the kitchen floor, and then back up at her.

  “You ruined my pasta!” He said, and his voice was warm, and rough, and thick with an Italian accent that sent a wave of heat crashing through her. Finally, his words sank in.

  “I ruined your pasta? You are not even supposed to be here!”

  “What are you talking about, bella?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” He walked around the center island and Alisa had to drag her gaze away from his distracting physique. And, oh my, what a physique it was. His body rivaled that of one of the marble statues she had passed as she had explored the villa. But that still didn’t mean that he was supposed to be there.

  “What are you doing here?” His vehement question drew her amber eyed gaze back despite herself. She couldn’t keep herself from drinking him in, from the top of his jet black curls just brushing his shoulders, his chiseled features, chocolate brown eyes that she noticed were sweeping of her just as she was him.

  “Not that I’m complaining, mind you, bella fortuna, but,” He walked a little closer and suddenly the room felt a lot warmer. Too warm. She fanned her face with a hand as he spoke again. “This is my home. So, I have to ask again. What are you doing here?”

  “But I…” She had to stop, and look away from his still very naked body so that she could continue. He seemed to be not at all bothered by his state of undress. Hastily, and still not looking at him, she dug out the itinerary from the travel agency and held them out so he could see. “I rented this place out for the holiday. I’m supposed to stay here for the next two weeks. Alone.” She tried to emphasis the word but it came out soft and breathy as he took another step closer to read the words on the folded form.

  “Ahh, I see,” he tsked, shaking his head as he read over the words. “Normally, I am not here...I have a home in Rome, and a few other places. I rent it out from time to time. Only to beautiful women, of course,” He smiled up at her through a dark fringe of lashes and she found herself holding her breath, unable to think of a single thing to say except. “Uh huh.” She gave herself a mental shake.

  “Wait a minute, you own this place?” She thought of the cost of owning a centuries old Italian mansion, not to mention all of the original sculptures and paintings she had seen. And then his comment about having another place in Rome, and more. “You must be really rich.” She immediately covered her mouth as the comment popped out. “Oh, I’m so sorry. That is so rude of me.” If I wasn’t so distracted by his body, maybe I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, Alisa thought to herself as he just shrugged.

  “Yes, I am.” He shrugged again, as if he were saying ‘the sky was blue’ and grinned at her. “A billionaire, actually.” Her jaw dropped at his nonchalant statement.

  His grin widened. “You know, Cara mia, you can always stay here. It’s a big house. Plenty of room for the both of us. Besides, I don’t bite,” The look in his eyes heated as they looked deep into her own, “Unless you ask for it, of course.”

  Alisa took a hasty step back. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath when he was standing just feet away from her. She forced her eyes to remain where they were, on his face.

  “Um, I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Turning around so she could think clearly without the distracting sight of his leanly muscled body, Alisa quickly made her way back to hallway and then straight to the front door where her suitcase was waiting. It her a moment to find Matteo the taxi driver’s number in the crumpled papers and receipts in the big front pocket, and by the time she had it in one hand and her cell phone in the other, the man was back, this time blessedly covered.

  Alisa ruthlessly shoved down the stray thought that it wasn’t a blessing at all, in fact, it was a shame to cover up all that… stop it, she mentally reprimanded herself as she dialed the number. She held the phone to her ear, once more distracted by the handsome man. The way he looked at her like he could see all the way through her, all of her secrets, even the fact that her body was heating steadily under his gaze. She shifted, an uncomfortable, heavy feeling spreading through her like honey.

  She was so distracted, in fact, that her took her several minutes to realize that there was no dial tone, no ringing coming through at all. She pulled her phone away and glanced down at the screen. Of course, no service.

  “It’s probably the storm, Bella.” He shrugged.

  “My name is not Bella,” she sighed, “its Alisa. Alisa Williams.”

  “Well, Alisa Williams, it is my absolute pleasure to meet you,” He reached out and took her hand in his before she could pull away, a rippling tingle washing through her at the way he said the word ‘pleasure’. “My name is Luca.” He looked out of the front window and Alisa’s gaze followed. It was blustering and the sky was a dark, starless black. The snow was coming down like an avalanche now. He raised a brow. “And I guess you will be staying after all.” He didn't’ even try and keep the wide grin off of his face. “Here, the bedroom is this way.”

  He turned and started back down the hallway and she had no choice but to follow. He stopped outside of a large wooden door with bouquets of bluebells carved into the frame. It was beautiful, just like everything in the house. Including the owner, that stray voice whispered, but she ignored as she grabbed the handle of her suitcase before Luca could and then opened the door.

  Quickly she turned around, stopping him outside in the hall. “Just until tomorrow.”

  He just smiled at her “We shall see, Alisa Williams.” He turned to go back to the kitchen but paused and half turned back to her still standing frozen in the doorway.

  “By the way, Bella means beautiful.” His softly spoken words whispered over her, doing funny things to her insides and resolutely she turned toward the room, firmly shutting the door behind her.

  Chapter 3

  The smell was what woke her. A smile curved her full lips into a drowsy grin as she dragged herself up, dreams of walking downstairs and seeing her grands standing at the oven, something delicious baking inside just like she had throughout her childhood.

  Her eyes popped open and it all came crashing back. The heart attack. The funeral. She closed her eyes again against the sadness that threatened but she fought not to give in. Alisa knew the one thing her grandmother would hate the most was her to keep grieving, but sometimes, she just missed her so much. Her wisdom and her kindness. Just like the woman Alisa wanted to be.

  Her stomach growled loudly, and noisy reminder of the absolutely scrumptious smell that was wafting in from under the door. Still exhausted from a night of hot dreams of satin sheets and soft whispers of Italian in her ear, she rose, hastily throwing on her rose colored silk robe and was drawn out and into the kitchen by whatever decadence awaited.

  “Oh my god, what is that?” She nearly groaned as her stomach rumbled hungrily again. All she’d had was a cup of coffee at the airport yesterday. She was starving.

  “Ahh, Cara mia, you’re awake. I thought you would sleep the day away.” He sent her a mock frown and Alisa couldn’t help the soft chuckle at the picture he made. He was standing in front of the stove wrapped in a knee length apron covered in a pink and blue floral print. Somehow, it didn’t look out of place on him, nor did it take away from his masculinity. Actually, it made him seem somehow more confident, a trait that she had always found irresistible in men. Unfortunately for her, it too often seemed that she mistook a
rrogance for confidence which was why she had been single for the past year and a half.

  “I hope you’re hungry, Bella.” He gestured her over to the small table already set with plates, silverware, and two steaming cups of coffee. “Go, sit.”

  Gratefully, she sank into the chair, wrapping her hands around the cup and holding it to her nose. “Mmmm.” The groan escaped despite herself as she inhaled the heavenly aroma of fresh brewed coffee. She opened her eyes as she realized the kitchen had gone silent, and turned to look over at Luca. He was staring at her, skillet still in one hand, his dark brown eyes hot on hers. A blush stole over her cheeks at his look, tinging them a bright scarlet and she turned back to her coffee.

  “I can’t wait to hear what noises you make when you taste my brioche.” His roughly spoken words were just loud enough for her to hear and didn’t do anything to help her flushed cheeks. Flustered, and trying to hide it, she strove for humor to put her back on an even keel.

  “Is that supposed to be a euphemism or something?”

  A surprised laugh burst out of him, and with a shake of his head he pulled something out of the oven, laid it in a basket lined with a terrycloth towel and brought it to the table. He smiled at her, still chuckling softly to himself as he took the other seat at the small table.

  “You are a very funny woman, Alisa Williams.”

  “Please, it’s just Alisa.”

  “Alright then, just Alisa,” He grinned, the familiar flash of humor turning his eyes to melting chocolate brown. He always seemed to be smiling, or laughing as if he knew some secret joke that nobody else did. But it didn’t make her feel left out, if anything it made her feel like he was somehow letting her in on it, whatever it was. She had a feeling that he just enjoyed life.

  “...what are you planning to do for the day.”