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.”

I’m only too aware that his father is only a few feet behind us and can hear every word. I feel my cheeks flush with color, but the elder alpha doesn’t seem embarrassed

you two, we’re going to

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

to pass over the older man’s features. “No, I’m afraid my son has never forgiven

shouldn’t have asked.” I apologize,

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

long before 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

I know,” Henry reaches over to pat Sinclair’s shoulder, “I just can’t help thinking that there might have been a better way, I could

cards were already on the table from the start. I’m sure you did the best you could – and that’s

proclaims, managing a

the city yesterday. I was too preoccupied fighting with Sinclair to notice when

is happening against the backdrop of the Midwinter Fair, and though I wish we had time to explore the carnival, when we arrive reporters and photographers are clamoring around us the moment we exit the car. Sinclair growls 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

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

to sit down. “Oh no,” I gulp, holding my breath

my gaze, quickly growling at a waiter. “Can you

face is probably very pale from holding my breath. I’m about to break, needing

smell makes Ella sick.” Sinclair explains, getting impatient with the man’s slowness on the uptake. “Get it out

head, knowing I’ve probably turned green and whimpering when I feel my gag reflex engage. I take off for the restrooms, knowing if I stay I’ll be sick all

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,

floor. “Oh you poor

you.” I croak, miserable beyond