Accidental Surrogate

Ella

“You look radiant.” Sinclair’s father is beaming up at me from his wheelchair, “how’s my grandbaby treating you?”

“Oh he’s certainly making his presence known.” I laugh, sliding my arms into the sleeves of my coat. Sinclair is holding the garment up for me, then straightens it around my shoulders as if worried I won’t be warm enough. He’s been particularly on edge tonight, and though I understand his agitation, I’m beginning to tire of being treated like a china doll. “Stop fussing, Dominic, I’m fine.”

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea.” He grumbles. “Your blood pressure was much too high this afternoon and you didn’t get nearly enough rest.”

“You’re the one who keeps telling me how important these events are.” I remind him. “And I feel perfectly well.”

He’s still muttering to himself, and Henry chuckles, “You’re fighting a losing battle, my dear. There won’t be any reasoning with him – I was the same way when his mother was breeding and we weren’t campaigning.”

“It’s too much stress.” Sinclair agrees. “All the media and the royal family, on top of the crowds.”

“Not to mention your brother.” Henry adds darkly. It’s true that this is the first time I’m going to be encountering all of these people together, but it’s also far from the last. The Yuletide Feast is only the third night of the festival, and we still have four more high profile events to get through before we can relax. Even then it will only be a temporary reprieve – we still have the rest of the campaign to get through.

“I’ll be fine.” I insist. “You don’t have to coddle me.”

Both men raise their eyebrows, as if to say that this isn’t my decision and I absolutely do need to be coddled. Sure enough, Sinclair shakes his head and overrules me. “We’ll come home at the first sign you feel overwhelmed – and that isn’t up for debate.”

I turn away, rolling my eyes when I’m confident they can’t see my face. However as I begin to step towards the door, Sinclair pulls me back against his chest. The big Alpha lowers his lips to my ear, his deep voice like rough velvet. “I saw that, trouble.”

My stomach swoops with excitement and apprehension, and I try to make my voice sound stronger than I feel. “And?” I challenge him. “I’m not scared of you.”

and I feel very overheated all of a sudden. “Liar.” Sinclair croons, petting me affectionately. I’m only too aware that his father is only a few feet

we’re

stowing his wheelchair in the trunk before joining us. I’m deeply curious to know more about Henry’s relationship with Roger, especially given the way he warned us about his presence. “Do you see Roger often?” I inquire

I’m afraid my son

I shouldn’t have asked.” I

my son as any father should,” he shares thoughtfully, “and when you welcome your pup you’ll learn firsthand that children don’t always appreciate what’s best for them. Roger would not have made a good Alpha, and I had to do what was best

you named me as your heir.” Sinclair interjects, and I can see his protective side coming out in response to his father’s sadness. “He’s been after me ever since Mom died, and becoming Alpha wouldn’t have helped our relationship at all. If anything it would have created more problems. He would have mismanaged things and I

pat Sinclair’s shoulder, “I just can’t help thinking that there might have been a better way, I could

I offer gently. “And grief blinds us all, there is no right way to handle it. Besides, it sounds like these cards were already on the table from the start. I’m sure you did the best you could – and that’s

Ella.” Henry proclaims, managing a

with Sinclair to notice when we departed the festival, but the old town has truly been transformed for the holiday. Lights, greenery, ice sculptures and ornaments abound, glittering almost too brightly against the stark white mounds of

at them in warning when they edge too close to me, and though they back off, they remain persistent in their demands for questions and photos. So we head straight to the feast, eager to cross the velvet ropes that will

King, Queen and Prince and making polite conversation – at least, as polite as one can be with political opponents. Afterwards we move to our assigned places at the

sit down. “Oh no,” I gulp, holding my breath when I see a large platter

at a

between us. I’ve got my hand over my mouth, and my face is probably very pale from

impatient with the man’s slowness on the uptake. “Get it out of here, can’t you see what it’s doing

very same second. I shake my head, knowing I’ve probably turned green and whimpering when I feel my gag reflex

I race into the bathroom just as another woman is exiting. I can barely hear their confrontation over the sounds of my own retching, but when Sinclair doesn’t enter I know the stranger must have insisted he not set foot in the lady’s room. Propriety must have won out, but I don’t mind – I hate

me, and I hear high heels clicking across the floor. “Oh you poor dear.” A feminine voice sounds behind

you.” I croak, miserable