Page 110 of Enchantment of a Highlander

“I can defend myself.” She grabbed her bag from him and hurried to the narrow shelf.

Her feet tangled against the hem of her skirt in her haste and she pitched forward. She braced her fall with the shelf, but it shifted under her weight and she landed hard on the ground.

She scrambled to her feet before Duncan could reach her side. “You promised you’d be safe,” she said. “You can’t be here while there’s so much danger.”

She threw the bag over her shoulder without packing the rest of her items. They could be regrown, remade.

A life could not.

If Duncan wouldn’t leave without her, then they both needed to leave.

Now.

Leaves crunched outside.

Duncan’s eyes met Celia’s and fear flashed in the bright depths for a split second before giving way to the spark of determination.

He slipped his sword free of its sheath. The blade appeared overlarge in his slender arms, but he held it without wavering. His lips set in a grim line. “Get behind me, Celia.”

The baritone of men speaking in low tones murmured from outside the thick walls.

Her breath came so fast it set the room spinning. The harder she breathed, the more starved she felt for air.

She balled her hands into fists and pulled from the bravery she’d seen Alec exhibit. The same Duncan now demonstrated.

Alec would never surrender without a fight and neither would she.

She curled her stiff fingers around the hilt of her paltry eating knife and stood beside Duncan, shooting him a warning look that told him he’d have to deal with her aid. Before he could protest, a voice sounded from outside. “I think I found a door.”

Her muscles ached with the force of her grip on her weapon. The small blade would not be enough for what they were up against.

She glanced behind her in search of another form of weapon and her breath caught in her throat. The shelf she’d fallen against was pulled out from the wall and revealed not an earthen wall behind it, but darkness.

A tunnel.

A means of escape.

• • •

Alec navigated his beast through the darkening forest with dangerous speed. The gray skies were slowly filtering to black.

He didn’t need to worry about MacDougall’s men following him. They were already at least ten minutes ahead. Approximately how long it’d taken him to convince the aging laird he had nothing to do with Celia’s hiding place.

Alec ducked to avoid a branch. If he could get there before MacDougall’s men, he could swipe Celia onto his steed and race back to Duart where they could lock the castle down. She would be protected.

It was a risk, a stupid one, but it was all he had.

His horse’s breath huffed hard with effort, as if he sensed the urgency. The rolling hill housing the cottage came into sight, exactly where Duncan had told him it would be.

Alec’s heart pounded in his chest. Horses stood out front, at least three dozen. Some riders still sat in their saddles while others stood at the front with their blades at the ready.

Too many to fight on his own.

Perhaps Duncan had gotten to Celia in time, perhaps by now they were both on their way to Duart.

Every natural instinct in Alec knew that wasn’t the case. The impossible ache in his chest told him that much.

He pulled back on the reins and his horse slowed.