Pregnant to an Alien King Box Set

by Gloria Martin

  “Correct me if I'm wrong,” Reagan said, “but I dinna believe this is one of the designated entertainment rooms.”

  “Yer not wrong,” Gavin replied. “I simply wished tae speak tae ye alone.”

  “Then we hae shared a similar thought,” Reagan said.

  “I'll admit that… such knowledge is beyond ma ken, but, do ye feel as drawn tae me as I am tae ye?”

  “From the moment I laid eyes on ye,” Reagan said. Gavin's heart did a flip in his chest. “It's a curious thing, is it not? The soul.”

  “Aye,” Gavin replied.

  “I hae heard what the witches on the moors said about ye,” Reagan said.

  “I doubt there is a soul here who hasnae. This is in part a celebration of their curse not having come tae pass.”

  “Perhaps ye simply hae not yet found yer life's greatest treasure.”

  “I believe I’m looking at her,” Gavin replied, “and if I die tomorrow, it will be as a happy man.”

  Reagan had the grace to blush. “Ye should return me tae a proper game room before the others begin to talk. I wouldn't want the start of our relationship tae be soiled by impropriety, would ye?”

  “Nae,” Gavin said, and offered Reagan his arm once more. He deposited her in the ladies’ card room, kissing the back of her hand in parting. It sent the women in the room into titters and Gavin heard their soft, conspiratorial whispers directed at Reagan as he exited the room to drink and smoke with his fellow men. The drinking and gaming went late into the night. Those who weren't given lodgings in the manor left sometime after midnight, trickling out in bits to take their carriages through the nippy night air back to the village and the various rooms they had purchased there. Gavin himself was one of the last to retire, as was Isaac MacGregor.

  “Ye've had yer eyes on ma sister,” the hunter said over a glass of whiskey. There were a handful of other gentlemen in the room, having a quiet discussion by the fireplace. Gavin felt his neck warm but kept his expression neutral.

  “She's hard nae tae look at,” he replied.

  “Aye,” Isaac said, “that she is, but I'll not hae ye sniffin' about her skirts.”

  “I dinnae ken what ye mean,” Gavin replied. “I've nae been sniffing around anything.”

  “If ye want tae court ma sister, all ye need do is ask,” Isaac said. His face had broken into a broad, drunken grin. Gavin couldn't help but wonder how much of the conversation he would remember in the morning. “I saw how she was looking at ye too, lad.” Gavin bristled at the term. He and Isaac were of a similar age, but the man was drunk, so Gavin let it go. He doubted it was meant as an insult. “Of course, that disnae mean ye'll be given permission.”

  “And what would I need tae do tae obtain it?” Gavin asked.

  “Killing that stag would be a good start,” Isaac replied, winking. “Provided I dinnae get tae the wee beastie first.” They shared a laugh and Isaac finished his drink. “Until tomorrow,” he said and stood, clapping Gavin on the shoulder before heading out of the room.

  Gavin sipped at his whiskey, his head reeling and feeling a bit drunk himself. He played at the host for as long as he could, but eventually he had to retire. He teetered his way up to his room and managed to mostly undress himself before toppling onto his bed, asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

  *****

  In the morning he was woken by Gregory, who politely told him to get his arse up or else he would risk missing his own games. There was an aching in his head, but it was nothing a good breakfast and a bit of exercise wouldn't work out. While he yawned and stretched and went about washing his face, Gregory prepared his clothes for the day and set out his shaving soap and razor. The cold water in his wash basin roused Gavin, but did nothing to dim the aching of his head. With a sigh he settled in the chair by the window and tipped his head back. With practiced hands Gregory spread the soap over Gavin's jaw and carefully scraped off a day's worth of stubble.

  “Will ye be havin' breakfast in yer room, sir?” Gregory asked.

  “Nae today,” Gavin replied. “I shall eat with whomever is awake to dine with me. Fetch me ma kilt, would ye?” Gavin rubbed the remains of the shaving soap from his face and stood so Gregory could assist him in wrapping his kilt about his waist, the red and green checks of Clan Brus bright and jolly and perfect for the occasion. He fixed his shirt and did up his buttons, then stooped to pull on his boots. When he rose again and combed back his hair with his fingers, a glance in the looking glass showed a man every inch the laird he had just become. Every inch the man his mother and father had been afraid of him becoming.

  “Will there be anythin' else, sir?” Gregory asked.

  “Nae, that'll be all,” Gavin replied.

  Gregory bowed and showed himself out. Gavin followed almost on his heels and made his way down to the dining room. He wasn't the first to arrive, but he wasn't the last either. Isaac and Reagan were missing, as were a few members of Gavin's family. Everyone rose to greet their host until he waved them back down and took his normal seat at the head of the table. A nearby manservant served him tea and he settled back and let the conversation slowly draw him in. Gradually they were joined by the rest of the manor's guests. When Isaac and Reagan arrived, the men stood almost in unison. Reagan smiled politely at them, but had eyes only for Gavin.

  She was dressed in a sturdy riding dress in shades of green and brown, her skirt split to allow her to straddle the horse. Her small jacket had a flattering cut that emphasized the curve of her waist and swell of her bosom. Gavin imagined there was a matching hat to go with it as well. Her brother helped her to her seat. The gentlemen around her claimed their own, and then Reagan's smile was for Gavin, and Gavin alone.

  After a quick breakfast of eggs and sausage, Gavin led the group out to the fields and hills behind the manor, where the games would be held and the hunt would begin. There was something for everyone, just as Gavin had wanted. The hunters stood aside from the main group, Reagan amongst them. A headcount revealed that everyone was in attendance, and the horses were brought out. They mounted up and Gavin blew the horn tied to his saddle. With that, the hunt began.

  The party trotted off towards the woods, leaving the rest of the guests behind with senior members of the Loudains to entertain them. Gavin's blood was already pumping. He had been on hunts before, but never without supervision. It felt exhilarating. On his left rode Isaac and on his right Reagan. The trackers in the party went ahead to search for signs of their quarry, and behind the main party came servants and horses with food and drink for lunch and a small pack of hunting dogs. They were all armed heavily enough to take down a regiment of Redcoats. The stag would have little hope of survival once they found him.

  Reagan kicked her horse up directly next to Gavin's, leaving Isaac slightly behind the pair of them, so they could speak with a semblance of privacy. “It's a grand day for a hunt,” she said.

  “Aye, it is,” Gavin replied.

  “A grand day for many things.”

  “Aye.”

  Reagan had a small grin on her lips. “Ye spoke tae ma brother last night,” she said.

  “Did he tell ye?” Gavin asked.

  “A woman kens these things,” Reagan replied. “I assume he said ye need his permission tae court me.”

  Gavin nodded.

  “Prove yer worth on this hunt today and I can guarantee he'll say aye.”

  “I think it might be yer brother who will win the day.”

  “Nae if I hae anything tae say about it,” Reagan said. Her smirk was positively devilish. Gavin laughed and shook his head as she fell back in line with Isaac. What a lass, Gavin thought.

  ***

  Hunting, as a rule, required a lot of waiting. There were signs aplenty, and obvious as well, but the stag seemed to have a rather large head start on the group. Growing frustrated and hungry, Gavin called a stop for an early lunch.

  “There's a clearing just up ahead,” he said, and the news was passed down along the line.


  Gavin directed them towards where the woods thinned and there would be enough room for the horses to be hobbled and everyone to sit and eat and stretch their legs. The servants had packed cheese and bread and a hunk of haggis to share, along with skins of wine. Gavin made his way to the MacGregor siblings with food and drink in his hands. Isaac wandered off before Gavin reached them, likely to have a piss, leaving Gavin to approach his sister alone.

  Reagan was stroking the nose of her horse and feeding it treats from a pocket in her skirts. Her hair had been tied up for the hunt, and a hat to match her jacket helped pin it in place. Her full lips curled into a smile when Gavin sidled up next to her and offered her the wine. Reagan took the skin with a quiet thanks, her fingers brushing against his, and lifted it to her mouth.

  “This stag is proving elusive,” he said in an attempt to make conversation.

  “Aye,” Reagan replied, “but we'll catch him before the day is out. I hinnae doubt of that.”

  “Ye're verra confident.”

  “Dinna men like confidence in a woman?” Reagan asked, her voice almost coy.

  “This man does,” Gavin said, just before Isaac joined them.

  He took the wineskin from his sister's hands and threw his head back to drink from it before clapping Gavin on the shoulder.

  “We're drawing close,” he said. “The tracks are getting fresher. By ma reckonin’ we’ll be on the beast in the next two hours or so.” He looked at Gavin. “Then we'll see what kind of man the formerly cursed Loudain child is, and if he is truly worthy of ma sister.” The three of them shared a laugh at that. Gavin's heart beat fiercely when Reagan smiled at him.

  “He’s a braw laddie, brother mine,” she said, “whether or not he passes yer wee test. Now stop yer posturing so we can eat. I'm famished, and it's nae good hunting on an empty stomach.”

  True to Isaac's word they found the stag an hour's ride west, picking its way through the foliage on the forest floor. At the hound master's command, the dogs were released, howling and yipping and driving the stag onward. Gavin whooped and led the charge. The riders towards the back spread out to flank the stag and drive help drive him back towards the dogs and pursuing hunters. Musket loaded and ready, Gavin looked for glimpses of the stag between the trees. He knew where the beast was being herded, up against the face of a crag where it would be pinned and could be shot without any worries of injuries to the hunting party. Gavin could hear nothing more than the sounds of the dogs barking and the thud of his horse's hooves, and the rush of his heart in his ears. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Reagan, her dark hair coming loose from its pins and catching on her shoulders. She looked wild and free, like a princess out of a storybook; a true born highland lass.

  They had the stag trapped. The beast lowered his head and brandished his antlers, lowing threateningly as the dogs yipped and danced around, snarling and growling.

  “Take the shot!” Isaac shouted. “This prize should belong tae ye.”

  Controlling his horse with his knees, Gavin brought his musket up to bear. The stag swung his head about, but there was no escape for him. Gavin's shot was clean and quick and the beast crumpled with a low cry. The hunters cheered and descended on the body, the hound master using sharp whistles and calls to keep the dogs in check. Gavin felt himself grinning broadly, his cheeks hurting from it. Isaac pulled his horse up and slapped Gavin hard on the back.

  “A brilliant hit!” he declared. “If ma sister will hae ye, she’s yers tae pursue.”

  “I'm nae some prize tae be chased after,” came Reagan's voice from behind them, “but if Lord Loudain is presenting his suit, far be it for me tae refuse.” Her eyes had a wild glint to them, dark and fierce, and her smile was cocky and confident. Gavin grinned at her, forgetting for a moment the men around them, seeing nothing but her, sitting tall on her horse.

  "It would be ma honor," he said. "And ma deepest pleasure, tae secure such a bond with the MacGregor's."

  "Weel, sister?" Isaac asked. "Our wee lord has made his intentions kent. What is yer answer."

  "Aye," Reagan said. "It’s aye."

  "Then it’s settled then!" Isaac declared. "I ken that we must leave on the morrow, for we wouldn't wish tae trespass upon yer hospitality for longer than needs must, but tonight, I say, we feast!"

  His cry brought an echo from the hunting party. Gavin reached for Reagan's hand, and pressed his lips gently to the back of it. They rode side by side at the head of the party back to the manor. A handful more kills were scored along the way, two rabbits and a fat pheasant. It would be quite the feast that night, with so much meat to go around. How silly his parents had been to believe foolish words from foolish old hags.

  Gavin glanced back down the line, catching glimpses of the stag and the other game, tied up and ready to be properly butchered back at the house. The cooks would have their hands full that night.

  "Ye ken," Reagan said to him, softly, "I would hae found me a way even if ma brother had said nae. Our souls are meant tae be, and I ken ye feel it as weel as I."

  "It canna be described," Gavin replied. "Nae in words I ken. But aye, I feel it, and I'd hae found a way as weel. Brother or no."

  Reagan's laugh was as sweet as a bird song.

  *****

  The feast was nothing short of magnificent. It may have been ever better than the first. It was the last night his guests would be staying after all, and no expenses were to be spared. Gavin himself got positively rip-roaring drunk, but even as intoxicated as he was he still didn't slur his words when he asked Reagan for a dance.

  She smelled of perfume and wine, and pressed her cheek to his as they twirled about the floor. Her pupils were large and dark, consuming almost all of the blue of her eyes. She must have drunk a considerable amount as well. They weren't the only two. Practically everyone in the room was tipsy at least, if not more, and no one was paying any attention to the two of them.

  “Take a walk with me,” Gavin asked, spinning them slowly towards a door.

  “Happily so,” Reagan replied.

  Their dancing took them to the edge of the floor and they slipped away from the music and laughter into a candlelit hall. The noise grew dim as they walked, Reagan's fingers sliding between Gavin's. Gavin had no untoward intentions, simply a desire to be alone with the woman his soul was so drawn to, like the constant tugging of a string wrapped round his middle. They passed a sitting room, and Gavin drew Reagan inside, shutting the door behind them.

  “Wine?” he asked, crossing the room to the liquor cabinet in the corner. A fire had been lit, and the room was warm and bright.

  “Please,” Reagan replied, and settled herself in a chair.

  Gavin poured two glasses half full of the first bottle he grabbed and went to join her. She thanked him softly and took a polite sip. Gavin dragged the free chair closer to her and settled with a sigh, letting his eyes close. A small smile lifted his lips. He could feel the heat of the fire and hear the crackling of the wood, and there was a beautiful woman sitting at his side. Life couldn't get any better.

  Until he found himself with Reagan in his lap, her wine discarded, and her soft lips pressing a kiss to his brow. Gavin said nothing. There was no one to see, and even if there were, what did it matter? He had announced his intent to court her in front of half of his guests, and he had no desire to take back his word.

  “Ye will hae tae come and visit us,” Reagan said. “In fact, ye must call upon me often, now that we are courting.”

  “I shall come every day,” Gavin replied.

  Reagan let out a low, throaty chuckle and tipped his head back with two slender fingers beneath his chin. “Ye had best be wary, though, ma laird,” she said. “Perhaps I'm a witch like those out on the moors, come tae steal yer spirit away.”

  “It’s a deed already done,” Gavin replied. “I'm afraid I'll feel only half myself away from ye.”

  Reagan's expression softened, all traces of jest gone. She leaned in, pausing for the spa
ce of a breath before she touched her lips to his. Gavin curled his arm around her waist, following her lead, letting her hands touch his hair, and jaws, and shoulders. Her tongue brushed his upper lip, gentle as a spring breeze. Gavin met it with his own, tasting the wine she had drunk, and something beneath it that was just her. Gavin wanted to drink her up like he had the whiskey at dinner.

  “Isna it funny how life can bring two souls together?” Reagan asked against his lips. “Tae think we wouldn't hae met unless yer father died.”

  “I'm sure we would hae,” Gavin said with a smile. “On some grand hunt.” He paused and ran his fingers up Reagan's spine, through the thick, sturdy wool of her dress. Even with the fabric separating their skin, he could still feel her warmth. “I will be sad tae see ye go. Ye will be safe on yer journey, aye?”

  “Of course,” Reagan replied. “Ye needn't worry, Gavin. Ma brother would never let anything happen tae me.”

  Gavin smiled at her again, but couldn't help the knot of worry growing in his stomach. The quickest way back to MacGregor lands ran through the moors, the same ones where it had been said that Gavin would meet his death. Reagan left him sitting there with a final, lingering kiss, staring into the fire and contemplating the meaning of fate.

  ***

  Gavin was awake to see his guests off despite the pounding in his head. Gregory brought him tea and helped him to dress and shave and generally make sure he was presentable before Gavin went down to the main hall to say his goodbyes. Isaac and Reagan were among the first to leave, much to Gavin's disappointment. Isaac firmly shook his hand and Reagan chastely kissed his cheek. Gavin raised his hand to them in farewell and watched their carriage fade to a tiny speck on the horizon. The manor felt empty with friends and family gone, but the quiet, at least, was refreshing.