The Princess and the Laird

by C. A. Szarek

  Remorse hovered, then settled in her chest. “I didn’t think—”

  “I know. You never do, and the rest of us have to deal with what happens after.”

  Alana reared back as if he’d slapped her. Her cousin was her rock. He’d rarely snapped at her. Tears pricked her eyes, and she couldn’t hold them back. “Xander—”

  He looked her up and down and exhaled audibly. Closed his eyes before taking a seat on the overstuffed lavender sofa. “Don’t cry.” The words weren’t for comfort. “Just don’t. You’ve got to lie in the bed you made. And I wouldn’t count on getting out of here before Beltane.”

  Tears were born and scalded her cheeks, but she didn’t care about Beltane or being confined. She cared about Xander being cross with her. No, not cross. Seriously angry. “What happened?”

  His brow furrowed. “What d’you mean?”

  “You…knocked me out? I’ve no memory.”

  Her cousin sighed again and reclined into the sofa, his long plait over one shoulder, down his chest and pooling on his lap. He flexed his wings. Despite being seated on purple upholstery, he couldn’t have looked more masculine. “I’d no choice.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  Xander snorted, as if asserting she shouldn’t dare have the right to be upset.

  “I’m sorry, Xander,” Alana whispered. She wanted to reach for his hand, but he wouldn’t have it right now. Magic and instinct alike confirmed it. She took a seat across from him on her chaise, and looked at the food he’d brought.

  A stew of some sort, and some bread. Nothing close to the normal feast she was presented with. Her father obviously wanted her to be treated as a servant as a part of her punishment.

  She didn’t care. Had always preferred simpler meals. A good rabbit stew was actually her favorite. As empty as her stomach was, as much as she needed sustenance, Alana couldn’t eat.

  Not until her cousin forgave her.

  “How did we get caught?” She kept her voice low and tried to project calm on him with her magic.

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “I feel the ripples of your powers. Just…stop. I won’t be coerced, Your Highness.”

  Alana grimaced and muttered another apology, but he shook his head.

  “Remember how you didn’t account for the Stones being guarded upon our return? Well, that’s how.” Xander finished with a curt nod.

  “I’m so sorry.” Repetition wasn’t helping, if his expression was any indication.

  “I had to tell them you fled from me and I went after you. I told them we encountered no one; I caught you right on the other side of the Faery Stones and brought you home.”

  Alana sucked in a breath. He’d lied. A great risk, considering her father had mages that could detect dishonesty. If Xander had been discovered—

  “Right. It wouldn’t have been as simple as ten lashes.” A scowl marred his handsome face.

  She didn’t dare chide him for reading her mind.

  “Don’t apologize again, I told you I don’t want to hear it, cousin.” This was softer, with less of an angry edge, but she was far from forgiven.

  She deserved that.

  “Are you…does your back hurt?”

  He shook his head, making his braid dance. “Nay, I was permitted to see a healer, though I suspect my father didn’t make that known to the king.”

  Alana looked at the bowl of stew again, not sure what to say, so she didn’t try.

  “This isn’t as simple as when you flit around our realm and it’s discovered. If they knew you’d seen a human—”

  “I know. My father would order his death even though we didn’t tell him we’re Fae.” Her heart thumped.

  Alex.

  Alana couldn’t be the reason he was harmed—or worse.

  “Aye.” Xander nodded when their gazes brushed. He appraised her, and his eyes softened again, but only a touch. They remained like hard violet jewels, and his expression matched. “Eat.” He stood and took a breath.

  “Where’re you going?” Her heart sank to her gut and stayed there. Her muscles twisted and churned for good measure.

  If she did eat, there was no way food would stay down.

  She made no magical effort to hide her thoughts…her regret and sorrow. If anything, she projected them so he had no choice but to feel how she did.

  “The problem with that, my dear cousin, is that you don’t regret going. You’re just sorry we got caught, and that I was punished. And while I love you as I always have, I’m not quite ready to forgive you.”

  Alana startled.

  He was gone before she could tell him she respected his honesty or assert she loved him too.

  Xander had been right.

  If they hadn’t gone, she wouldn’t have met Alex. Despite the consequences, she couldn’t regret the trip. But where was the laird now?

  In the Human Realm when she was literally trapped in the realm of the Fae. And the closest person to her was angry with her.

  She had neither of them.

  Alana stared at the door. She’d never felt more alone.

  She threw herself down in her chaise and sobbed so hard her body shook.

  Chapter Five

  Alex rode—well, it was more like stalked—the length of the beach for hours, letting the task consume his morning just like he had yesterday, and the day before.

  It’d been three days.

  “Nothin’.” He shook his head, and the semi-warm breeze caressed his face, washing the fresh scent of the sea over his form. As calming as it normally was, now it just tore him up inside.

  Gulls called to each other above, but he ignored the pesky birds and their screeches.

  He’d failed to find even the smallest clue of the gorgeous petite blonde and her oversized guard. And he couldn’t employ his cousin Cormac’s help, because Duncan and the men were still gone, and would likely be so a fortnight or longer.

  “Dammit.”

  Bán nickered and tossed his head, either chiding him for his language or asserting that their feat was useless.

  Which would you prefer?

  It wasn’t like he didn’t have duties. At present, there was a pile of scrolls on his desk in the laird’s ledger room the steward had bid him to go over and declare yay or nay. They were to have a meeting that afternoon, and his side of things was supposed to be completed by then; decisions made.

  Instead, he was wasting time on the beaches of Skye, and if Hamish went to his father to report his important request had gone unheeded, Alex would only worry Iain more. He risked a chiding as well, but his father couldn’t do more than that, really. He was laird now, after all.

  However, he had no use for another conversation with his father where he did little more than grunt and nod. He’d barely survived the one from last night, when the retired laird had cornered him much like his sister had the evening he’d met Alana.

  Alex was fine, but if he shouted as much, they’d peer at him in shock for speaking as such. Something like that was much more Duncan-like than something he’d do.

  But was he really fine?

  Doubt crowded his thoughts and pushed them around. He hadn’t been fine for days.

  Since the moment he’d met her.

  The tempting lass had haunted his dreams, leaving him restless and fatigued come daylight. He’d seen her naked. Touching him. Teasing him. Kissing him while she rode him.

  “Perhaps I’ve gone mad,” he muttered.

  He’d seen her once—and very much clothed. How could his mind conjure up such vivid images of someone he’d seen one time?

  Very much without a single stitch of a garment.

  Alex had woken hard and aching. Unfulfilled, since his hand’s skill paled in comparison to the nightly visions of a flaxen-haired sprite.

  He rubbed his wrist and forearm, remembering the shock of energy when they’d touched. That small moment of their skin coming together preoccupied him as much as his dreams. He kept
replaying the moment—the feeling—over and over.

  “What am I doin’?”

  Bán whinnied as if in answer and hoofed the loamy ground. Was his stallion asserting that he hadn’t a clue?

  Aye, I don’t either.

  And since when did Alex talk to himself so much?

  “C’mon, laddie, let us hie ta Dunvegan.” He put his knees to his mount’s sides, feeling the powerful animal’s muscles ripple as he turned them around.

  His horse had taken only a few steps when tingles of awareness coursed down his spine and he swallowed. He tugged Bán to a halt with a quick apology.

  “Wait,” he whispered.

  Don’t go home. Look again.

  Alex didn’t stop to question his gut. He slid off the stallion’s back and whirled. Riding down the beach would be faster, but something was driving him forward on his own two feet. He left Bán where he was, with only one glance over his shoulder.

  The horse had already made his way up the incline of the smaller cliff, and he was again grazing on the long sparse grass, as if telling him there was no hurry.

  He chuckled and shook his head, increasing his speed to round the large rocks he’d first seen her by. His heart jumped and he skidded to a halt, kicking up sand and pebbles as soon as the ridge was visible unencumbered.

  Alana sat up there with her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her chin rested atop, as she leaned into herself, and her long pale mane played in the wind. She stared into the water. Didn’t notice him down on the beach.

  She was a vision of platinum and purple, because this time her mantle matched her trews. The hood was down, and also flapped in the dancing gales.

  As if he’d called her name, the gorgeous lass’ eyes found his, and he had to swallow. Twice.

  She straightened and smiled, but it had a touch of sadness he didn’t like.

  He wanted to demand what had upset her so he could slay it.

  “Alex…”

  His name was breathy on her lips and made his cock twitch. She’d said his name in his dreams in much the same manner, especially when she was rocking her naked body over his.

  Alex fought a shudder and forced a smile. “Alana, are ye well, lass?” He framed his mouth so his voice would carry.

  “Come sit with me?”

  He obeyed without pause, scampering up the ridge like he and Duncan had done so many times as wee lads. Alex planted his behind next to her, and gave her a onceover.

  She sat on the ground, not on a blanket or plaid as expected. Sorrow seemed to leak from her pores, despite the small curve of her luscious lips.

  “Alana?”

  Saying her name pulled her gaze from his bare legs, and he was again startled at the hue of her eyes. Gorgeous, and definitely more purple than blue.

  “Are ye real?” The query tumbled out unbidden.

  Her laughter washed over him like a caress, and he blew out a breath. His heart cantered, and it shouldn’t. It hadn’t taken that much energy to ascend the ridge.

  “Aye, I’m real.”

  “I’ve been lookin’ fer ye fer days…”

  Alana swallowed, and he wanted to kiss her throat. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I shouldn’t have come then, and I most certainly shouldn’t be here now.”

  “Why?”

  Her gaze raked his face, and she lifted her hand, but when their eyes met, she dropped her arm.

  Had she been about to touch him?

  His insides wobbled. He wanted to assure her, she could touch him wherever and whenever she wanted.

  “I…”

  When she faltered, Alex reached for her hand.

  Just like the first time they’d touched, energy shot upward, all the way into his biceps and shoulder. It didn’t hurt.

  It made him yearn all over.

  For more.

  As if the small skin-to-skin contact hadn’t been innocent.

  His manhood shifted and jumped as it became interested too. He’d be granite in moments if he didn’t shut his desire down.

  But he didn’t want to. He wanted to explore it.

  Push her down and touch her.

  Taste her. Take her.

  “What…happened?” Alex cleared his throat. The intensity didn’t make sense. He didn’t know this lass.

  Her shoulders straightened. “So…you felt that?”

  “Aye. What ‘tis tha meanin’?”

  “I don’t know. But it doesn’t scare me.” With every word, Alana leaned closer, until their mouths were millimeters apart and their breaths mingled. She licked her bottom lip, a little pink arrow darting out to tempt him.

  “Scare…ye?” Alex forced out, but his eyes were glued to her mouth. His own watered, and his need was a living thing about to consume him.

  “Nay. Alex—”

  He dipped down, covering her lips with his; swallowing whatever she’d been about to say. He groaned at first touch, but it melted away as she let him inside the warm recesses and rubbed her tongue against his.

  Alex was lost, even more so when she gripped his leine with two small fists to haul him closer. He pulled her into his arms without breaking the seal of their kiss, and allowed Alana to slant deeper, taste him fuller.

  How she’d taken such complete control should’ve registered, but her flavor burst, like wine and summer berries. So good he didn’t care who led.

  She moaned against his lips and the vibration went straight to his cock. Tremors chased each other down his spine and heat settled low in his bollocks. He was so hard he throbbed. His body begged him to take her.

  Alana pressed ever closer, until she snaked her arms around his neck and pushed his back to the ground. The gorgeous lass followed him down, lying on his chest and gripping his head while their kiss went on. She tunneled her fingers in his hair and he shivered; it was so perfect.

  Alex held her just as tightly, barely aware of the smooth material of her mantle. His thoughts scattered when he felt the soft press of her breasts into his chest.

  The lip-lock made its way into nips, licks and nibbles. He couldn’t get enough of her. He mapped her back and cupped her bottom as she started to rock against him.

  Shame she hadn’t straddled him. She pushed her pelvis into his hip, and he wanted—no, needed—so much more. Moans and whimpers made his blood sing, and he squeezed her delectable rear end, encouraging her.

  Alana slid her hand downward, teasing his abdominal muscles over the fabric of his leine, and it wasn’t enough.

  He wanted her hands on his bare skin. They needed to get naked—

  When she gripped his erection on the outside of his plaid, Alex reared back and cursed.

  Their eyes locked, and he groaned at the flushed hue of her alabaster skin. She was pink to the tips of her ears, and he wanted to see if he could make every inch of her flesh that particular shade.

  They panted in time with each other.

  “Alex? Did I hurt you?” she breathed.

  He blinked to clear his head. “Nay. Jus’…surprised me.”

  “Oh.” Her blush deepened and she withdrew her hand.

  Alex grabbed it and brought it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. How could he tell her—and save her embarrassment—he’d never been with a lass so forward?

  He’d never had a woman reach for him like that—been the one to initiate the intimate touch. Not that he minded. He wanted Alana to touch him where she would.

  All over.

  “Most Fae men prefer a lover that…that…knows where a man likes to be touched.”

  He stilled. “Fae?”

  Her gorgeous eyes widened until the whites showed. She slapped a hand over her mouth and sat up, breaking their physical contact.

  She was bright red now, but it wasn’t from their shared passion. “Oh, Goddess!” The words were muffled behind her slender fingers.

  Alex tilted his head. “Did ye say, ‘goddess’?”

  Alana nodded slowly, dropping her arm, but her expression was filled with drea
d. She’d paled out, and her slender shoulders were shaking.

  Protective instincts flared all over his body. He sat up, pulling her to him. He wrapped her in his arms and inhaled her sweet scent. It was like her taste, a mixture of heady wine and berries.

  She didn’t fight him; only burrowed into his chest and hid her face against his neck. Still trembled, so he rubbed her back in long soothing strokes.

  “Alana-lass, talk ta me. What yer sayin’ makes little sense.”

  “I’m Fae. I…am…a princess.”

  Alex blinked. Swallowed. Perhaps he was dreaming, after all.

  Or the lass in his arms was mad.

  “Say something,” she whispered, her warm breath tickling the skin under his chin.

  “Fae?” was the only thing he could manage.

  She met his eyes and grimaced. “Aye. I snuck to the Human Realm using the Faery Stones, and—”

  “Tha…Human…Realm? Faery…Stones?” He’d heard of the Standing Stones before, were they the same thing?

  Alana nodded, speaking normally, as if they discussed the weather. “The first time, I just wanted to see, well, here. Your world. But this time, I-I-I had to…see you.”

  “Lass—”

  She frowned. “Don’t look at me like that, Alex MacLeod. I’ve not lost my wits, nor am I mad. I speak true. I’m the Scottish Fae Princess, daughter of King Fillan, the King, and Queen Elysia, though my mother is dead now.” Grief passed over her expression briefly, but it was replaced with the haughtiness of her declaration.

  She has the commanding tone well enough.

  “Fae…”

  Alana nodded. “Surely you’ve heard stories of the Faery Folk.”

  “Oh, aye. Since I was a wee laddie.”

  Her frown deepened, and she narrowed her eyes. “I’m not mad.”

  “I believe ye.” Alex’s gut shouted that she spoke the truth—he didn’t stop to question why. He should examine that, but he couldn’t look away from her.

  Astonishment darted across her gorgeous face and those vivid eyes. “You do?”

  He nodded. “In my family—my clan—there’s a legend.”

  “Go on…” She swallowed and lured him so he wanted to kiss her throat again. Her visage shouted caution, as if she wasn’t sure she could believe him.