Page 50 of Enchantment of a Highlander

A spike of panic she hadn’t known was there jabbed through her and sent her brain whirling faster than her pounding heart. “Laird MacDougall is burning witches, Alec. Those women are mainly healers and midwives. He is the neighboring laird, which means at any moment—”

Her words went to sawdust in her mouth and she found herself unable to swallow around the choking dryness.

“At any moment, it might be me tied to that stake,” she finished.

Realization flooded his face. “No, Celia, he isna wanting to carry his witch hunt to my land. I wouldna ever allow such a thing. I already told ye as much.”

He stepped toward her and for a moment she thought he might wrap his arms around her. Those strong, warm arms where she once found passion and from which she now craved comfort.

His body tensed and then he stepped back again, his expression returning to something fierce.

“I’ll protect ye no matter what,” he said.

His words curled around her like iron and dragged the air from her chest.

She’d heard those words once before.

From Fiona.

The moment they’d passed through the cold stonework of the dungeon, the older woman had hugged Celia to her and whispered fervently to her.

I’ll protect you no matter what.

The room spun around her and suddenly the cold of the room was ice at her fingertips while the sweat prickling at her underarms and the base of her neck was too, too hot.

“I don’t want your protection.” She hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh.

Hurt flashed over his face before a hard look of indifference blocked his expression from her. “I protect all my people. Ye included.”

His brows tightened together and he reached for her, but she stepped back. She did not stop until the solid door pressed at her back. The air was too thin, too hard to breathe. White dots spotted her vision.

Alec.

Her heart ached like a massive yawning hole filled with flames and brilliant red embers.

“I don’t want your help,” she gasped. “I don’t want your money or gifts and I don’t want your cloth.”

He didn’t move. “What of Duncan?” His voice was quiet with resignation.

“I’ll continue to see him when necessary, but I don’t—” The words swelled in her throat, but she had to say them. To push him away lest he get too close. “I don’t want to see you.”

When he made no response, she opened the door, bobbed a quick curtsey, like a servant might do, and left.

Chapter Fifteen

Two weeks had passed since Celia had seen Alec.

She often wondered if she would hear the low rumble of his voice in the next room or might catch a glimpse of his proud back, but never did such a thing occur.

Duncan had told her Alec left for the village every day before she arrived and did not return until after she’d gone home.

Alec.

She’d hurt him the last time she saw him and though she knew it was for the best, it made her heart ache in a way she wished it wouldn’t.

Celia strode the familiar path to Duart Castle and tried not to think more of the laird or his people. She ignored the cold, merciless wind and pressed onward with only thoughts of what she needed to continue healing Duncan.

He’d improved quite well and chatted with her whenever she came. Truly, he was almost completely well now, but she wanted to continue her visits every other day to ensure he remained in good health.