Page 100 of Enchantment of a Highlander

She quickly tied off the gray cord at his stomach and cut it with a clean knife.

His swollen eyes squeezed shut and his mouth opened to reveal pink gums for another wail. She passed him to Nell with relief.

The babe would be fine. He was healthy.

She quickly cleaned Bessie and knelt at her side to feed her the tea she’d had Nell prepare. Using a sponge, she began emptying the contents of the bowl squeeze by slow squeeze into Bessie’s mouth as she’d done with Duncan.

The woman’s throat worked around the fluid forced into her mouth. She gave a gurgled cough and her eyes slit open.

“My baby?” The question was little more than an exhale between her pale lips.

Nell carried the swaddled infant and held him out to Bessie’s turned head for her to see. “A braw lad, Bessie. Ye did well.”

“She’ll need rest,” Celia said softly to Nell. “But we’ll still try to let the babe suckle. Her body will feed him even in her slumber.”

Nell’s withered hand settled on her shoulder. “Ye canna stay here, lass. It isna safe.”

Celia stared down at Bessie’s young face and her heart gave a hard wrench. “I cannot leave her.”

“Ye must. Tell me what to do and I’ll see it done, but I know Bessie wouldna ever forgive herself if ye were captured because ye’d aided her.” The baby grunted in the woman’s arms, soft sounds of fresh hunger.

Much as Celia wanted to ignore the warning, Nell’s words held truth. If Celia stayed, she ran the risk of being captured. She could do no more for Bessie, nothing Nell couldn’t.

Celia nodded and a band tightened in her chest. Nell eased the swaddled infant to her chest and the hungry grunts grew more determined.

“You will have to guide the child to her breast,” Celia said in resignation.

Nell nodded. “Aye, I’ve seen it done before. I’ll no let the bairn starve, nor will I allow his mother to die.”

“Then let me show you which herbs you will need to use.” Celia took a deep breath around the pain and reached for her bag. “And promise to get me should she develop a fever.”

• • •

Alec sat in the solitude of his quiet chamber. Night had given way to dawn and dawn had burned into the brightness of day. He’d watched the slow shift of black to rosy gold without moving, only thinking.

Too much thinking.

This kind of morning reminded him of Celia.

She was like the glow of a new day, the way she’d chased away his shadows with her brilliant joy. For those two weeks, she’d represented all the good in his life. Everything beautiful, everything light.

The memory seared beneath his ribs like a ball of fire.

But even with the sun up, he felt no light. Not anymore. Though he tried to ignore it, the darkness rose within him.

His hand curled around the cup at his side, its pewter sides like ice against his fingertips.

He could feel her presence on his land. He knew where she hid. One short ride across the rugged landscape and he could pull her into his arms.

He pressed the rim of the cup to his mouth and paused. She could not stop him if he dragged her back to Duart Castle. The servants would never doubt their laird.

The liquid tipped dangerously close to his lips and the sharp scent of whisky pulled at a ravenous desire somewhere deep within.

Once he had her in his home, he could keep her there—in fine rooms with fine furnishings. She would live like a queen. Safe, protected.

Forced.

He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and drew a deep breath of the hot, heady whisky aroma.