Page 90 of Enchantment of a Highlander

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Celia clutched a stack of blankets against her chest and navigated her way through the crowded courtyard with Duncan at her side. Faces smiled in her direction and nodded in greeting.

A bitter wind swept off the ocean and blew through the heavy cloak she wore. The sky was gray, the castle wall was gray, even some of the people’s faces appeared gray.

She scanned the haphazardly scattered tents and crude shelters erected behind the castle walls. “There are more today than there were yesterday,” she said softly. Bonfires sprinkled the once green grass and thick black smoke curled above to twist against the fluffy white clouds.

Duncan readjusted his grip on the large basket full of Wynda’s bread. “The outlaws have been relentless in their attacks. At least the laird fixed the castle walls so they can stay somewhere safe.” He turned to her with an optimistic smile. “I’m happy to have ye here to help.”

While she was glad to be able to help the villagers when they needed her most, the task was overwhelming.

After a quiet life of solitude, the constant smells and sounds and voices pulled at her, causing her head to ache and her skin to feel too tight.

Ruadh must have agreed with her, because he had not ventured into the castle walls despite her attempts to lure him. Instead, Alec had given careful instructions to his soldiers on watch to leave the little fox unharmed.

A sigh rose in her chest at the thought of Alec. She wished she had not promised him she’d consider his offer of marriage.

Every night he curled her against the heat of his body and sparked the flame of her desire, slowing singeing away her stoic resolve. For all her determination to avoid wanting the life he offered, she found herself finding convenient reasons to stay.

To help Wynda organize the household, to be there for Duncan’s questions so Alec could focus on the war against outlaws, to heal the injured who came into Duart’s gates.

All good excuses, but she knew what she was doing.

“Watch yerself, Celia,” Duncan said, interrupting her thoughts.

The warning came just as a cluster of children ran toward her. Celia swept to the left to avoid a quick little girl with long brown hair. Though Celia’s hand pressed into the thick folds of the woolen blankets, a great wind knocked her off balance.

She staggered across the uneven earth. Blankets flew from her hands and billowed out in the wind like great brown birds fluttering and swooping to the ground. She grabbed at the air in vain desperation to save them from falling to the dirt, but that was exactly where they fell.

Duncan was by her side before she even bent to pick up the first one. A crumple of brown wool was already pressed under the bread basket.

“You’re fast,” she said with a grin.

His green eyes sparked. “I can be faster.” He snatched up the next one. “Faster than ye even, and I’ve still got my bread.”

Celia darted toward the next blanket. “Is that a challenge?”

“Ye know it is,” Duncan called out behind her.

She quickly collected three more. Only one remained in sight, lying between two tents. The wind caught the edge and lifted it from the ground, but she snagged the coarse cloth from the thieving breeze before it could fly away again.

She stood up to call to Duncan.

“The healer has been most helpful,” a woman’s voice said inside one of the tents.

“Aye, but it’s time for her to leave,” a man replied. His voice quivered with either age or illness.

Celia’s pounding heart shrank into silence in her chest.

She should walk away. She should not be standing there like a child, eavesdropping.

“The laird is in love, can ye no see it?” the woman asked.

There was a pause and Celia’s face burned despite the raging wind.

In love.

The very thought pulled at her breath.