Page 7 of Enchantment of a Highlander

Alec glanced down to the thin line of blood over his wound. “After ye headed to the village, I happened upon a woman being attacked.”

Duncan’s brow furrowed beneath spikes of sweaty blond hair. “I shoulda been with ye.”

Alec sighed. “Ach, I dinna take ye because I couldna afford for all the coin to be lost if we were found out.” The petty excuse seemed to placate the boy well enough. Truth be told, most of the coin was with Laird MacKinnon in Angus, but Duncan didn’t need to know. What mattered most was that the boy was safe.

“And what about this?” Duncan pointed to the wound. “Did they cut ye?” He nodded toward Alec’s chest. “Was it a dagger or a sword? Do ye think it was poisoned? Do we need to get a healer to look at it for ye?”

Were Duncan any other person, Alec could have shrugged off the questions and remained quiet. Time and experience, however, had taught him the boy did not let the fine details go.

Ever.

“I’ve already seen a healer.” An image of her rose in his mind like a flower pushing up through the ground.

Duncan’s mouth opened and Alec put a hand up before another string of questions began. “Have ye learned anything from the villagers?”

Sometimes the lad could be distracted with his own stories. Alec hoped this was the case now. His energy thinned and his wound burned like a demon. Perhaps he should have taken a swig of the liqueur Celia had offered.

Duncan looped his thumb in his belt. It was an action Alec had seen him do when the boy didn’t want to answer a question. “I havena heard much more than the rumors we already found on our own. The land has been so long without a good laird that it’s become filled with outlaws. Homes have fallen to ruin, but they dinna have the means to repair them. Everyone is scared and hungry and there’s no anyone to help.” He scuffed his foot on the ground.

“What else, Duncan?”

The boy stared down at the pastry braced within the cage of his long fingers. “Yer castle was ransacked right after, ye know…” he cast Alec a sidelong glance. “After yer da’s death.” He said it softly, as if he were afraid of brushing an unhealed wound.

Obviously the boy didn’t understand what an arse Alec’s father was. Da indeed.

“We can have more furniture built,” Alec said.

Duncan pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes as if he were in pain. “It’s more than ransacked. I dinna think it can even be lived in.”

Alec uttered an oath and gazed in the direction of Duart Castle. “We’ll find out soon.”

“Alec?” A woman’s voice sounded in the crowd.

He turned to find the woman in the blue dress coming toward him. Her black curls gave a little bounce with each dainty step.

“Laird MacLean.” She curtseyed and met his gaze with eyes that sparkled like sapphires set in sunlight.

He studied her upturned nose and the wide set of her mouth. This woman who knew him was wholly unrecognizable to him.

“My lady,” he said politely, and inclined his head.

He’d be damned if he was going to bow like some courtier in the middle of his own market square.

This did not appear to please her. The full bottom of her pink mouth puffed out in a pout. “Do ye no recognize me?”

The question set him up for failure and would without a doubt lead to her disappointment. Irritation drew tight across the back of his neck. He didn’t have time for such childish games.

She turned her face toward him just so and a small scar became visible under her left eye.

Then he remembered.

She’d been struck there by a rock when they were children, playing some nonsense rescue-the-princess game.

“Saraid.”

Her smile widened and brightened up her face considerably. “Ye remember after all,” she said.

A little girl ran from behind Saraid and upset the delicate pouf of her skirts.