The Princess and the Laird Read online

A huge Acana tree stood not ten feet from the raised platform, its pink and purple leaves swaying in the gentle breeze on thick maroon branches.

  The weather was nice—mild, as it always was. Her father employed the best weather mages to keep it not too hot, not too cold. They kept the sun shining and the rain away until it was needed.

  So irritating.

  Could not even the weather be as it was supposed to?

  Her father had to control everything.

  The vast area was usually patrolled by a whole wing of Fae Warriors—six men made up a guard unit.

  “Let us be quick about this trickery,” Xander said, crossing his arms over his hunter green chest-plate.

  Alana sighed and shook her head. “Thank you for coming with me,” she pushed out, instead of the retort on her tongue. It would do no good, and she wanted her cousin by her side. More than that, she wanted him to enjoy himself.

  He snorted. “Not likely.”

  “Don’t read my mind then,” she snapped. She needed to reinforce the spell to block her thoughts. Because she trusted him, it wasn’t something Alana normally did, but most Fae used magic to block such an invasion. Mind reading was a common trait.

  Instead of waiting for his answer, she jogged up the dais and inhaled fresh air.

  The Faery Stones hummed in her head, magic moving over her form like a caress. She’d always had a strong draw to the Stones, and had been able to open them without issue.

  Not all Fae could hear the melody they omitted. Each Stone had a different tone; Alana could already feel the thrumming, though she’d barely caressed the crystals.

  They were made up of five clustered natural formations, originating in a cave before being relocated to the Field of Light. There were contradicting legends about why and how the Faery Stones had been moved, but they’d been here so long—probably six or seven long Fae generations—most accepted the grassy knoll as their rightful home and birthplace.

  They were perfectly spaced from each other in a loose circle. One was centered, and the other four surrounded it. The crystals atop the five rough pillars were from her realm and forged in magic. The one in the middle was larger than the rest. It was the key to making the others work. They had to be in tune as a whole to open a magical doorway.

  She touched the Stones in order, continuing the pattern required. All five crystals lit up from the inside, and power coursed through her, making her limbs tingle.

  A lyrical, rhythmic hum reverberated, becoming louder every second, and she repeated the song in her head as well as aloud, humming the order.

  Alana pushed more magical energy into the movement of her hands, begging the Stones to be quick about their task.

  The first pop sounded, indicating the portal would open. Then she heard the sound of tearing parchment. The following pop-pop-pop was each louder than the last, and a magic-born gale swirled around her; her hair had already worked itself loose, flying in her eyes. Her mantle, too, was disturbed, dancing around her thighs. The hood flapped against her shoulders.

  Xander stood in her periphery; his long plait was also soaring, but she didn’t spare her cousin a glance.

  Their time was even shorter now; she needed to work fast so they could go.

  White light shot straight up to toward the sky, cresting the tall Acana tree from the center crystal of the Faery Stones, the last step before the gateway’s birth.

  Anticipation hit Alana in waves, making her breath hitch, and she released her hold on the final crystal.

  A shimmering orb appeared beside the dais, hazy and wobbly as it grew and hovered over the orange grass. The larger it got, the more the fuzziness started to clear, but she couldn’t make out what was on the other side.

  The view held a glistening darkness, as if it was night. But that didn’t make sense; time in the Fae Realm followed that of the Human Realm. Day was day and night was night in the same stretch of hours.

  A sliver of fright sliced down her spine, and she chided herself. Perhaps it was just dark where the Faery Stones’ twin set was located?

  The portal stopped growing, and light was visible shining through from the other side. Probably from the Human Realm’s Stones.

  Alana jumped off the side of the dais in front of the magic bubble instead of going down the stairs. She shot her cousin a glance and peered through the way to the other realm. “Sand? Do you see sand?”

  Xander offered a curt nod and drew his sword. “Aye. Let’s get this over with.”

  She sucked back a sigh as his sense of danger, his wariness, washed over her magic and chased her fascination away. “Don’t ruin this for me, cousin.”

  “Stay close.”

  Alana shook her head but obeyed, falling in behind him. She bid her exasperation away; peril could be near; they were entering a realm other than their own, so her cousin was right to be cautious, but she still wanted to go.

  They stepped through the portal and it closed behind them with a pop.

  Chapter Two

  “Yer all done, brother.”

  “Thank ye, lass.”

  Janet grinned as she brushed hair from his shoulders with a piece of linen. Then she slid around to the front of him and scrutinized her work. “Looks good, though I ne’er imagined you’d want yer hair short.”

  Alex flashed a grin and ran his hand through his newly shorn locks. His hair had been down to the middle of his back. Looking at all the loose dark patches on the floor, he wasn’t sure he had much left at all. “Now people dinna get Duncan an’ me mixed up.”

  His younger sister arched a dark eyebrow “Is tha’ what ‘tis abou’?”

  He shook his head. “Nay. I wanted a change.”

  “‘Tis a change all right.” His twin pushed off the wall, studying him as their sister had. “Ye look…odd.”

  “Thank ye.” Alex kept his voice dry, eliciting a grin from Duncan.

  “Dinna listen ta him, I’m sure you’ll still catch tha eye of all tha lasses.” Janet winked.

  He groaned. That was the last thing he wanted.

  In the months since he’d become laird, the lasses were already all over him. They always had been, but now all hoped to be the one he’d catch and call wife, Lady of the Castle.

  He was two and twenty, dammit.

  Not ready to wed.

  Their father, Iain, hadn’t broached the subject yet, but the time was no doubt coming. Alex couldn’t be a proper laird without a wife…and an heir. Duncan was lucky he’d been born second.

  “Aye.” His brother chuckled. “Now ye can see his bonnie face better.”

  Janet giggled.

  “Bonnie?” Alex growled.

  His twin beamed.

  “I s’pose ye suffer from tha same fate then, little brother. As ye have tha same face.”

  Duncan crossed his arms over his broad chest and tilted his head to one side, shifting his long dark hair. “Aye. Yet I’m no’ complainin’ abou’ attention from tha lassies.”

  Janet rolled her eyes. “If Da catches you tupping one more maid, you may no’ be ‘round much longer. No’ ta mention, I shall ne’er see tha wine cellar in tha same light.” She scrunched up her nose, looking very much her age of five and ten. Adorable, too.

  Alex laughed, but he was torn. He should admonish his baby sister. She shouldn’t have knowledge of such things. “Again?”

  At least their brother had the decency to blush. “Aye.” Duncan looked down. Shifted in his deer hide boots.

  “Who this time?”

  “Helen.”

  “Ah.” The lass hadn’t been working at Dunvegan long, but she was a pretty petite blonde—what his brother liked.

  “Peg is why Da is angry,” Janet said. “He threatened ta dismiss her.”

  Duncan made pulled uncomfortable expression, fidgeting in his boots again. They made a shuffling noise as if he’d rubbed the stone wall behind him. His brow was tight and his blue eyes darted all around. He avoided looking at either sibling.

  “Peg?
”

  “Aye.” Their sister nodded. “Peg knows he was caught wit’ Helen, and is—”

  “Makin’ things difficult.” Duncan’s voice was as reluctant as his expression. Embarrassed.

  Alex shook his head. “Jesu, brother. Why dinna ye jus’ go ta tha tavern like everaone else?”

  “T’would be wise.” He swallowed, making the apple of his throat bob.

  “Nay.” Janet glared. “T’would be wise ta stop your impure ways. Or take a wife.”

  Duncan scowled and shuddered, his wide shoulders shaking.

  Alex chuckled. “Ye have tha righ’ of it, sister.” He gestured to the lass, who was wise beyond her years. “Ye should listen ta her, brother.”

  “Dinna tell Mother. She’s got enough ta deal wit’,” his twin whispered. His cheeks were still tinged pink, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

  Silence fell, and now all three of them avoided each other’s gazes.

  Their mother had been sick for over two years, and no matter what healer their father had brought, she’d failed to improve.

  As of a few months past, they currently had a man from Clan Beaton living with them permanently. The Beatons were famous all over Scotland for their healing skills, yet Malcolm Beaton had yet to help their mother. He’d succeeded in keeping her comfortable, but he’d been realistic from the start.

  It was only a matter of time.

  Their father spent his time devoted to her, so the duties of laird had partially fallen to Alex. Since Malcolm had pronounced things didn’t look good, however, his father had officially stepped aside. He rarely left their mother’s suites.

  Iain MacLeod was open in his declaration that the woman he’d married was the love of his life. He said it was his duty to show it.

  Alex shook his head.

  Love. Marriage.

  Not for him. Not yet anyway.

  He loved the lasses—though his brother’s activities and appetite put his own to shame, but he wasn’t tempted to find one for keeps.

  Not even for the sake of his clan.

  He’d always known he’d be laird. It’d just come too soon. Now he wrestled with selfishness that did nothing but keep guilt churning in his gut. As much as he loved his parents, it was unfair.

  His sister suffered just as much. Since their mother had taken ill, Janet had acted as Lady of the Castle. A slip of a lass, running Clan MacLeod’s massive Dunvegan Castle. Yet she did her duty without complaint, and she did it well.

  Alex stood and brushed the remaining hair from his leine, watching it dust the stone floor. He tugged Janet into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Thank ye, lass.”

  She stared, her expression quizzical. Concern danced in her sapphire eyes. “You already thanked me. And ‘tis no’ necessary, brother.”

  “I appreciate ye, nonetheless.”

  “Are you well, Alex?” She squeezed her arms around him.

  “Aye, lass.”

  Even Duncan looked worried when their eyes met. “Alex?”

  “Both of ye stop lookin’ a’ me like tha’. I’m braw.”

  Their brother nodded, but the concern didn’t fade from his eyes.

  “I need some air.” Alex sighed.

  Janet stepped away, her countenance mirroring his twin’s.

  “I shall go ridin’,” he said. “Bán could use exercise, no doubt.”

  “I’ve ta go collect rents. Ye wan’ ta accompany me? I’m bringin’ Cormac, amongs’ tha men,” his brother said.

  He shook his head. In years past, he and Duncan had gone to collect the tithing from all the MacLeod holdings, but his heart wasn’t in duty at the moment. Alex wanted to run away. “Nay. Our cousin should do ye well. I’ll see ye in a fortnight or so? Surely a good plan ye have ta disappear fer a while.”

  “Aye, I think bein’ away will help tha Helen and Peg situation. Cool Da’s ire, too.”

  He smirked. “Ye are a coward, brother.”

  Duncan grinned, but didn’t disagree. “I have duties ta see ta, is all.”

  “Aye, ‘tis that, a’course.”

  Janet rolled her eyes again, but flashed a grin.

  “Mayhap, ye can console Peg, brother?” His twin winked.

  “Nay, I dinna tup MacLeod maids.” Alex mock-glared. “An’ neither should ye.”

  “I’d say he learned his lesson,” their sister said. “Da threatened ta throw him ou’ on his ear.”

  “He ordered me ta muck stalls fer a month.”

  Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “Then how ‘tis yer leavin’ ta collect tha rents?”

  “He volunteered.” Janet grinned. “Ta get back inta Da’s good graces.”

  “Och, lass, ye talk too much,” Duncan accused, but he rammed his hand through his dark hair.

  Alex chuckled. “Then off wit’ ye.”

  His twin bowed at the waist. “Aye, my laird.” He winked when he straightened, and Janet fell into a fit of giggles as Duncan whirled from the laird’s chambers with a flourish.

  “Our brother is too charmin’ fer his own good.”

  Alex harrumphed. “I dinna know abou’ tha’.”

  His sister grinned again and shook her head, making her ebony locks dance over her shoulders.

  * * * *

  The wind danced around his face, but no longer did it rustle his hair along with his leine and the MacLeod plaid he wore. It was odd, having cropped locks, but it was good.

  Different is good.

  Alex sat high on the ridge on Bán’s wide back, surveying the castle gates he had no desire to go back through.

  His stallion nickered as he adjusted his hooves, and the sound vibrated under his thighs.

  “Nay, laddie. We’re no’ ta go home.”

  For now.

  He couldn’t avoid Dunvegan forever.

  The horse’s gray mane shifted over his snowy coat as another gust caressed them both, and Alex shivered. It wasn’t cold exactly, Beltane was around the corner, but spring was teasing Skye more than presenting itself.

  He sighed and turned his mount away from the castle he should be riding toward. They’d go back to the beach until he was ready to face…reality.

  Alex hadn’t visited his mother since the previous day, and he should. Speak to his father, and maybe affirm that his brother and the men had ridden out to collect the rents.

  The laird should know that, right?

  Later. He’d handle it all later. When he had to.

  The water was rough today, the surf frothy as it slammed into the loamy beach, each wave bigger than the one before, splashing higher; demanding to be noticed. He watched from the safety of his mount before he kneed him forward.

  Observing the mild violence on the shore made Alex fidget. He wanted to dive in, have a swim, as much as he wanted to run from it. As if the sea would make him feel worse, since it was a visual example of his churning stomach.

  He let the big stallion guide him, his hold on the reins looser than it should be.

  Bán whinnied and tossed his head, but he paid him no mind as the horse wandered down the beach at a walk.

  The stretch before them was deserted, but Alex needed to at least pay attention to where they headed. He had no desire to tangle with Clan MacDonald—the laird was a tough man, and the tenuous peace between them had only been in existence since he and Duncan were lads.

  He couldn’t jeopardize that by mere distraction. Their lands bordered each other, and they shared the beach.

  Hugh, the son of laird and heir, was a few years their junior, and had been in a few tussles with Duncan. The lad was an arseling, at best. He was braw, almost as tall and broad as they were, so he’d given his brother a run for his coin the last time. Hugh MacDonald didn’t need a reason to fight, other than their differing surnames.

  Alex sighed. If only all his…issues…could only be solved with something as simple as a fist fight. He’d take on any challenger.

  Ye canna run from life, lad.

  He could hear his da�
�s words in his mind. Of course, the man had been referring to caring for his sick mother, but the sentence resonated.

  Is that what I’m doing?

  Running? From duties, responsibilities…life, as it was?

  Bán nickered and slowed, swishing his tail.

  Alex smiled and gripped the horse’s reins, encouraging him to continue on, but the stallion had his head down, nibbling on the long grasses at the edge of the sandy area to his left.

  “Ah, yer bein’ stubborn taday, are ye?” He chuckled and threw his leg over to dismount. His boots hit the sand with a soft thud.

  He left his loyal steed to his desires and patted Bán’s neck, running his hands over his coarse mane while he grazed. Or tried to. There wasn’t much vegetation, but the horse seemed determined to get it all. The grinding sound of him chewing brought another smile to Alex’s lips.

  Voices caught his attention, and he whipped his head up, scanning the beach in front of him. No one was visible.

  There were rocks—large and small alike to obscure his view—and of course the water was loud, but he’d definitely heard voices.

  The expanse ahead was made up of a series of small caves, leading up to cliffs. On the other side of them ended MacLeod lands and began what belonged to Clan MacDonald.

  Were members from his rival clan coming at him?

  “Who goes there?” Alex called, one hand on the hilt of his claymore, but he didn’t draw it. He narrowed his eyes and took a few steps away from his still-grazing stallion.

  It’d be more prudent to mount and turn—go home—but something kept his boots glued to the ground.

  They were coming closer, and he was able to discern a little, even though he couldn’t make out the words, but so far, he still saw no one. The deeper voice had to be a man, and was speaking in harsh tones that betrayed irritation, but the softer one—female—answered in quick snaps that sounded like commands.

  He moved forward, to where the terrain started to incline. Alex could climb up the rocky hill to have more visibility, but the volume told him they would join him soon enough. He only heard two people, so he relaxed his hold on his weapon.

  Indeed, it was only two, for the figures appeared in a few moments, moving into view around a large boulder. Both were fair-haired, and the man was tall, around Alex’s own height of six feet, five inches. He looked broad, too.