Page 8 of Enchantment of a Highlander

“Watch it, brat,” Saraid snapped at the girl, who paid her no heed.

Now Alec remembered Saraid with such clarity, it was a wonder he’d ever forgotten her in the first place.

Bossy, impatient, and prone to tantrums when her way was not met.

“I dinna forget ye,” she said pointedly. Her stare swept over him, polite yet appreciative. “And now ye’ve grown into a man, and I a woman.” Her deep sigh swelled her full breasts against the tight cut of her gown.

Alec wanted to roll his eyes, but averted his gaze instead. Duncan, however, leaned forward for a better view.

Her gaze shifted to the boy for the first time. “Is this yer son? Where’s yer wife?”

“He’s no my son,” Alec said.

“Oh.” She swirled a curl of dark hair around her finger. “And yer wife?”

Alec suppressed a long-suffering groan. “I’m no married.” The words gritted from his teeth, low in the hopes she wouldn’t hear.

But she’d been listening very attentively and her eyes brightened. “Oh? Aren’t ye, then? And ye’ve returned home?”

Again, he didn’t want to answer. Again, he knew he had to.

“Aye.”

She shifted closer. “Well, I’m no married either. I’ve had many suitors, but none have been what I’ve been looking for.” Her gaze was full of suggestion.

An aging woman stood behind her, watching the conversation with intensity. Saraid’s lady’s maid. Neither she nor the guard loitering nearby admonished their mistress for being too close.

Alec would have no help.

It was time to fall back onto social tact.

“Good luck to ye then,” he said. “Duncan, get the bags.” He nodded toward her. “Good to see ye, Saraid.”

Her mouth fell open and her cheeks colored a brilliant red. She nodded and her ringlets bobbed around her face. “And ye, Alec.” She recovered with a sweet smile. “I do hope to see more of ye.”

Alec grunted and nudged the boy forward.

Together they strode from the ridiculous conversation and toward Duart Castle to see how very unlivable it truly was.

• • •

Rain dripped like bitter tears down stone walls gone black with age, and a part of the curtain wall was missing, gaping darkly like a missing front tooth.

Where fields of soft green grass once grew, now weeds twisted against one another in a thorny battle for dominance.

A door once meant to keep armies out hung on only the bottom hinge, a chunk of wood nicked from its rounded top.

Alec stood before the neglected remains of his childhood home. He glanced at Duncan, unsure if the boy would be safer waiting outside or walking through the bowels of the castle with him.

“What’d the villagers say about people living here?” Alec asked.

Duncan tossed his head to the side to clear a lock of wet hair from his eyes. “They dinna say. Just that…” He rolled up on his tiptoes before rocking back. “They said the castle’s haunted.”

Alec groaned. “Ghosts, my arse. Ready yer dagger, boy, and stay close, aye?” He tugged his sword free of the scabbard behind his back and paid for the sharp action with a searing jolt along the expanse of his chest.

His muscles tightened against the offending wound. The damn thing would prove cumbersome in battle.

He pushed the heavy door open with his good side and slipped inside ahead of Duncan.