by C. A. Szarek
* * * *
Alana fled in tears. She didn’t even tell Alex she’d had to use a spell so he wouldn’t remember where the cave or the Faery Stones were.
He’d remember her, their time together, so that was what mattered, right?
She didn’t regret giving herself to him, but she shouldn’t have. Walking away from him now would be impossible, so she couldn’t solve her Seamus problem by having nothing dangling over her head.
Why are you so weak?
If we’re fated, I’m not weak.
Posing and answering questions to and from herself didn’t do anything but spin her into more chaos. Tears flowed freely as she ran through the tunnels on the way back to her rooms. She tried not to stomp up the winding staircase that led to her hearth.
She’d walked with him to the slit-like entrance of the cave and left him on the beach outside of it. He’d asked her not to leave, then kissed her until her toes curled and vowed he’d never let her go.
Her elation that he was just as determined to hold onto her made things worse, didn’t it?
I…can’t let you go, either.
Alana hadn’t waited to see his no doubt confused expression after she’d said the spell. To Alex, she would’ve just vanished. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she’d already broken rules—so many rules—by telling him who she was, by showing him the Faery Stones...by being intimate with him. It’d be better for them both if he only remembered her, not the cave or the portal.
Xander wasn’t going to be pleased that she’d snuck off again, even if she didn’t confess what she’d done with the laird.
No matter her skill had improved at getting by the guard undetected—both leaving the realm and returning to the Field of Light. Her cousin wouldn’t see it as positive, even if the smallest part of her was proud of herself.
Would she tell him she was no longer innocent?
He was far from stupid, so he’d likely take one look at her and guess it. They’d never made a habit of discussing bedmates in detail—as he’d declared it inappropriate—and Alana wanted to cling to that, bark how it was none of his concern, even though he’d argue.
Despite the affirmative things her cousin had recognized in Alex, Xander had never agreed they were fated. He wouldn’t approve of her in Alex’s bed, for all the reasons that were, in fact, correct.
She winced. Didn’t want to destroy the memory of her time in the human laird’s arms. Her cousin would say what he would; Alana couldn’t erase what she’d done with Alex—even if she’d wanted to. She most certainly did not.
I’ll cherish tonight forever.
She would’ve even if it hadn’t been her first time.
Her rooms were blessedly empty when she slipped past the hearth and closed the heavy portal with a spellword. Alana glanced at her bed and said another to make her fake form dissipate. She watched her bedding lower to the mattress as if deflated.
She’d half-expected Xander to be sitting on her bed, arms crossed and anger written all over his handsome face. Like he’d sense her fleeing presence. She could actually put off dealing with him until the morning.
Thank the Goddess.
Light slowly bleeding past her heavy drapes told her she didn’t have that long to wait after all. Dawn was upon her, so she’d fled the Human Realm just in time.
Regret she’d had to leave Alex mixed with worries about Seamus, and settled in her belly as if she’d eaten rocks. Alana gulped and swallowed a sob inching up from her throat. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Or feel desperation crowding her gut…her head, her heart.
It was her new unwanted constant.
She’d put herself in this situation, and now she was even more ensconced.
“Fool. You’re a fool.” Her voice startled her and she jumped.
Xander would no doubt agree.
Her head piped up and scolded her for going back to Alex, no matter how tightly knotted the Irish prince had her. Her heart disagreed vehemently, citing fate, of course.
Selfish.
Alana sank onto the edge of her bed and cradled her face. Was she the only person mad enough to have an internal argument? Or was she only mad because the whole thing was on repeat, it’d become so common.
Was she really as selfish as her mind accused the organ that thundered for only the human laird?
“Aye,” she whispered.
She didn’t bother agonizing over what she should do next, because her internal turmoil made her unqualified to make the decision.
Chapter Sixteen
Alex whistled as he looked over the latest scrolls Hamish needed him to review and sign yay or nay. His world was…lighter.
Since Alana.
It mattered not he that hadn’t seen his princess for five days. He’d kissed her, held her, taken her innocence, and being with a lass had never been like that before.
She was perfect.
If only he could’ve stayed with her…brought her back to Dunvegan.
He’d see her again. It couldn’t be any other way.
Alex had dreamt of her nightly, just like before; visions real enough to be memories, and somehow it kept him going, focused on her, as much as his duties.
He’d hold her again. Kiss her again.
Take her again.
Fae princess or not, he wasn’t letting her go. Alana belonged to him now.
She’d come to him when she could. His heart told him as much.
He didn’t even chide himself for the hovering emotions that were much too deep for the time he’d known Alana. Feelings that didn’t make sense…but just were.
Alex smiled and dipped his pen in the inkwell on his desk so he could scrawl his name on the proper line. He’d already finished with all the records from Duncan’s collecting of the rents, organizing them by coin or other tithes received, like livestock and physical goods. His da would be proud, and the cranky steward could relax.
He chuckled. Perhaps Hamish couldn’t be put at ease no matter what. The man had always been wound tight, set in his ways, since he and his brother were wee laddies. He’d only seen the man smile a handful of times. A glower was the steward’s more common facial expression.
The sound of a male throat clearing had him glancing to his ajar ledger room door and wishing he’d closed it all the way.
His twin filled the frame, one dark eyebrow arched in his direction. “Are ye laughin’?”
Alex scowled. “Go away.”
He still hadn’t forgiven Duncan for his disbelief regarding Alana, nor had they really settled it. Even after the passing time, his brother hadn’t tried to apologize, and neither of them had brought up the subject of his continued rides on the beach, or his lass.
They were on an only-speaking-when-he-had-to basis, meaning, when they had witnesses. He’d been avoiding his twin, although pounding his face in some hand-to-hand combat on the fighting yard had merit. He didn’t dare put a sword up against him; he feared the temptation of running him through.
“Why? Am I intrudin’ on ye, my laird?” His brother smirked.
Instead of repeating his order, Alex snorted. “Oh, a’course no’, my dear brother, come in, come in. ‘Tis nothin’, no’withstandin’ duties ta keep ye busy, I’m sure.”
His twin chuckled as he entered the room and closed the door. “I dinna help but notice…yer mood…’tis much improved. Makes a man…curious, s’all.”
He frowned when Duncan dragged a chair to the side of his desk and planted his arse in it, but then again, he was close enough to punch. Maybe he’d exercise his fist in his brother’s face after all, since he’d chosen his seat as such. “Ye know wha’ they say regardin’ curiosity and felines, dinna? Aye, tha same goes fer twin brothers.”
Duncan threw his head back and bellowed a laugh. “Mayhap I was wrong abou’ yer improved visage.”
Of course, you haven’t a clue.
Alex grunted, and tried to concentrate on Hamish’s last request, but his brother’s eyes were dead-set on
him; he could feel them as sure as Alana’s magic. He tried not to fidget in his chair.
“Alex?”
“What?” he barked.
When he met Duncan’s gaze, his twin tilted his head to one side, making his long hair shift. Then he sighed. “I’m tired a’ pretendin’ I dinna know yer cross wit’ me.”
He reared his head up. “Oh?”
“An’ I’m tired a’ pretendin’ I dinna know why.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “Ye had me thinkin’ ye really were daft.”
His brother chuckled again and shook his head. “I’m no’.”
“Weel?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Fer what?” He kept his voice even, and ignored how his stomach pitched. Did he really need someone to know about Alana that badly? Believe she was who she claimed to be?
Aye, so he might convince himself he wasn’t about to wake from a dream where she wasn’t real.
“Fer laughin’ when ye said yer lass was a Fae princess, and fer accusin’ ye of hidin’ a MacDonald lover.” Duncan scowled when he named the neighboring rival clan.
Silence descended because Alex didn’t know what to say. He didn’t feel like thanking him, or talking about Alana.
Would his brother believe him this time—really believe him—if he could manage more than a nod?
“Ye dinna believe me,” he whispered finally. “Do ye now?”
Duncan stared—studied him, really. “I dinna know.”
Alex appreciated the dose of honestly—maybe. “I spoke true, I swear ‘tis true.” His voice came out as a low cracked murmur instead of the vow he intended, but his brother only nodded, as if he could finally accept the truth.
More silence, then his twin looked thoughtful. “How canna be true? Fae?” He blinked, as if to clear his blue eyes.
“Da has been tellin’ us tales of the faeries for years—”
“Aye, but as ye say, tales. No truer than tha banshee tha’ would come after us if we mistreated a lass.”
Alex smirked. That particular story was courtesy of their mother.
What could he say? He didn’t know how to explain how he just knew Alana had spoken the truth from the moment she’d told him who she was.
He’d felt it in his gut.
“I tol’ her of our clan history,” he said.
“Meanin’?”
“Tha’ Da believes we’re part Fae.”
Duncan snorted and shook his head. “Ye dinna believe tha’? I ne’er have. Ye ne’er have. No’ even Janey—”
“Maybe ‘tis true,” he blurted.
His brother’s mouth snapped shut. He reclined in the chair and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Alex—”
“Alana is Fae. I’ve seen her magic.”
Duncan leaned in, planting his palms on the edge of Alex’s desk. “Magic?”
“Aye. She called me ta her wit’ mere thought.”
His twin narrowed his eyes. “Are ye sure ye dinna dream it up?”
Alex shook his head. “Nay. She summoned me ta tha’ beach.”
“An’ then?”
Heat flared over the back of his neck and settled in his cheeks. He prayed he wasn’t bright red like a lass of three and ten. He fought a fidget on the chair and studied the parchment he’d been ignoring since his twin’s advent.
The words were a blur he couldn’t focus on.
When he finally met Duncan’s gaze, his brother’s eyes were dancing and he wore a knowing smirk.
“What?” he barked. He didn’t want to order him to sod off, although he should, but that would confirm Duncan’s assumptions as much as a confession.
Alex had never been open about his infrequent dalliances, the opposite of his brother in both experience as well as directness about being with a lass. It was none of Duncan’s business that he’d made love to Alana on the beach. He wasn’t ashamed of what’d happened, but he didn’t want to share it with anyone, even the one he’d shared a womb with.
Alana was special.
She’s mine.
“I said nary a word,” his brother quipped.
Alex narrowed his eyes. “Keep it as such.”
Duncan beamed. “How…how…is—”
“What?” He leaned back, wary of what his twin was trying to say.
“Tuppin’ a Fae—”
He clocked his brother in the shoulder with a quick fist. He’d diverted from his plan to punch his jaw only to avoid questions from their father. He couldn’t leave a mark on Duncan and explain it away.
Maybe he should offer to spar on the fighting yard after all. His twin wouldn’t say no.
His brother rocked back in the chair, rubbing his biceps and cursing in Gaelic as well as English. “Jesu, brother! Ye hit me!”
“Ye need ta watch yer mouth,” Alex growled. He braced himself for retaliation, but his brother didn’t hit him; Duncan threw his head back and laughed.
“Ye’ve got it bad, my laird.” He shook his head, making his long dark locks dance.
He straightened. That was the last thing he’d expected him to say. He didn’t want to confirm or deny, but the words were probably true.
Alex did have it bad for Alana.
Duncan caught his eye and grinned. “So, when do I get ta meet yer princess, then?”
* * * *
She was in Heaven again, in the human realm. The cave of the Faery Stones had become the keeper of their tryst’s secret over the following weeks after the night—it was a month today, actually—since she’d given him her innocence, but Alana didn’t care where they were, as long as she was in Alex’s arms.
They’d made love twice, and her core ached pleasantly. Afterwards, they’d lain in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing, and she’d smiled so much her face hurt. Laughed, too. Being with him chased all her misery away.
She’d taken every chance she shouldn’t have coming to him again. Xander had grudgingly acknowledged she could safely travel between realms and remain uncaught when she’d admitted coming to see Alex that night.
He also seemed to take it in stride she was no longer a maid. Hadn’t threatened to kill her laird as she’d worried. Telling him what’d happened seemed natural, and her bodyguard hadn’t said much.
Her cousin hadn’t interfered further—although he’d refused to swear he’d let her do as she pleased wholly. Xander had only accompanied her twice more, and the two men she cared about most seemed to have a tolerance, if not an appreciation, for each other. It wasn’t the affection she desired, but Alana would take it for now. They weren’t so different, and had the potential to be great friends, but the Warrior wasn’t open to that.
Seamus had been extra annoying, under the guise of being an attentive betrothed, so she’d had to be more cautious, but couldn’t stop sneaking off to be with Alex.
The prince had constantly placed himself at her side, trying to touch her, and calling her his love publicly. She’d become adept at sneaking away from him, too. Alana couldn’t guarantee he hadn’t had her followed, even though she hadn’t sensed anything.
The dangers were still there, of course. They wouldn’t disappear until the betrothal contract did, but she was still too selfish to stop seeing her lover. Guilt over that only bothered her a little bit. Being with him solved that, too, even if it wasn’t permanent. For now.
Her laird seemed to delight in making her laugh. His sapphire eyes twinkled, and his face lit up. He’d told her he’d been dreaming of her, and she’d admitted the same. Alex had explained the detailed nature of their conversations and lovemaking in his dreams, and had asked if it could be real; magic.
She’d never gotten visions, and told him so, but the question was in the back of her mind. Her dreams of him had also been vivid, as clear as memories, although real lovemaking was better.
Alana might seek the library for research when she was able. She’d have to be discreet, and would have to avoid scrolls on fated mates, even though she burned to read ever
y recorded word.
If they were fated, it might explain the joint dreams, but it would be difficult to confirm.
We are fated.
She could accept nothing else.
Alana regretted every piece of clothing she donned, and did so slowly. Their time together today needed to end and she didn’t want to leave the cave; go back to reality in her realm with no Alex.
Especially since she was to dine with Seamus and their fathers for evening meal.
She still hadn’t found the words to tell her laird about her betrothal. Guilt again churned her stomach, chasing away the residual sated feeling in her limbs and heart from making love with him.
I need to tell him.
Alana straightened her shoulders and watched him tighten his belt. The plaid he was wrapped in was longer in the back and she noticed it sway with his movements. The pattern of Clan MacLeod was appealing with its rich dark colors. It stopped below his knees in the front, and didn’t hide his muscled legs.
The play of Alex’s thick arms caught her attention and made her remember being wrapped against his chest. He sheathed his sword and glanced at her, wearing a smile.
She gnawed her bottom lip and searched for the right way to say what she needed to. Nothing came. Alana kneaded the material of her cloak in a white-knuckled grip, instead of slipping it on. Nerves tightened her gut.
“If ye make me ferget this place, how will I know when ye come ta me? I canna live on the beach.” Amusement rippled in his eyes.
Her heart skipped and she clung to the distraction of his inquiry.
She’d finally told him of the spell she’d cast each time she left him for home, so he couldn’t reveal the location of the Faery Stones to anyone, even by accident.
Alex had confessed not contemplating the where of their trysts, and had only focused on her when he remembered their times together.
That caused a smile—earlier and now.
That morning he’d been riding and had caught sight of her up on the ridge, so she’d not needed to call him with her mind like the night she’d given him her innocence. Most of the other times they’d met had been previously agreed upon more than happenstance, always at that same ridge, at night, relieving the need to call him from his bed.
