Page 22 of Enchantment of a Highlander

She cupped her hands against one another and breathed hot against them. Warmth blossomed against her palms and fingers for one blissful second before fading to aching cold once more.

Ruadh crept into the cave and curled into a tight ball at her feet. Her toes tingled to life against the heat of his belly.

“What would I do without you?” She scratched the back of his ear, but he flicked his head away irritably. Affection always came on his own terms.

The wind screamed a high-pitched wail outside. The fox tucked his black nose beneath his tail and squeezed tighter against himself.

Had she ever been as warm as he looked?

An image of her cottage back in the forest flashed in her mind. The softness of her dry bed, the quiet chatter of leaves outside, the perfumed spice of her herb garden. Sunlight had always seemed to fill the room with warmth and the small fireplace gave off any extra heat she’d needed.

Alec had sat near the hearth the day they first met.

Her heart weighed down in her chest, its beat labored and painful. She wouldn’t think of him.

She couldn’t.

Yet no matter how much she told herself this, his memory seeped into her thoughts daily. His touch, his smell, the incredible pleasure they shared, the feel of his arms around her. That one last image of how he’d looked in sleep.

The days were terrible and long, despite the shorter periods of light. Terribly long and painfully filled with too many thoughts.

Her stomach loosed a ragged snarl. The loaf of bread she had bought three days prior was now gone. She was out of food and money with no hope to get enough of either to sustain herself.

The people on the road did not trust her enough to purchase her herbs and no one dared take her in for fear of being called witches themselves.

After over eighteen years of living in her quiet cottage, life outside was more difficult than she’d ever imagined. How had she survived this when she was only seven?

Her shoes were shredded from the sharp rocks she passed over every day and her clothing was soiled and torn. Her body ached with hunger and everything was rigid with cold.

Never had she been more miserable.

She’d tried several times to leave the island, but had encountered battle after battle and had returned back to the little cave as far from Duart Castle as was possible.

Resignation settled hard and indignant in the pit of her empty stomach.

Regardless of the danger she faced, she had no choice—she must return where people trusted her. Where she could earn coin enough to buy food.

She needed to return to the Isle of Mull.

Chapter Eight

Alec stared down at the murky concoction swirling in the narrow bottle against his palm. Rowan berries and a pregnant heifer’s piss, or so the aging woman had said.

“He’s supposed to drink this?” He gave the vial a shake. Threads of gray slime unfurled from the bottom and floated upward.

The old woman sucked her lips deep into a mouth devoid of teeth and nodded.

How the hell was Duncan going to swallow this when he couldn’t keep anything down as it was?

Already the boy was too thin, too weak. Worried thoughts nipped at the forefront of Alec’s mind.

“And if that doesna work, I’ve got a charm I can make for ye.” She patted Alec’s arm with a withered hand. Her fingernails were gray-yellow and varying in length.

He nodded and handed the woman a purse with more coin than she deserved for the foulness she’d given him.

She slipped the payment into a hidden pocket in her cloak and disappeared into the crowd.

Alec curled the vial in his hand, protecting it as if it were something that might actually work, and wound his way through the busy market.