Page 96 of Enchantment of a Highlander

To decline his aid would be her death.

“And I will bring ye food once a week,” he added with authority. “I’ll no have ye going into the village while MacDougall’s men still look for witches, aye?”

Celia shook her head. He put himself too much at risk with what he offered.

“I’ll no tell anyone. Only I will know where ye are.” He squeezed her forearm. “Ye saved my life. Let me repay ye in this way or I’ll follow ye everywhere until ye accept my aid.”

Celia sighed. “You’re relentless and getting more and more like Alec every day.”

A wide grin lit up Duncan’s sharp face. “So that means ye’ll let me help ye?”

Her shoulders wilted beneath the weight of her decision. Allowing him to help her would keep her alive through winter.

She glanced over at his eager face and also knew he would be true to his word—he’d never stop following her until she accepted his offer. His clumsy tracking could prove more dangerous to him than his help.

She sighed and the dry brown leaves on top of her ravaged garden fluttered. “You don’t leave me with much choice.”

He hopped to his feet, swung the bag to his back, and hefted her up beside him. “Then let’s no waste any more time.”

Celia took one last look at the destruction of her life and wrapped her hand around the key in her pocket. It served no value but to remind her of what she’d once possessed.

And everything she’d lost.

• • •

Two days’ time wrapped around Alec’s heart like stone. He followed the short, stocky MacDougall warrior, trailing Aros’s hallways in a way that had become too familiar for comfort.

Celia’s absence had torn a hole in Alec’s life. Everything once beautiful and pure was gone, and with it his defense against the darkness. It pressed in on him, snagging the edges of his soul.

At least he knew she was safe. Sending Duncan after her had been the only way he knew to protect her. That and what he was about to do.

The shadows of the stone corridor gave way to the muted light of the great hall. MacDougall stood in front of the fire, his legs spread and his arms crossed.

“Laird MacLean is here to see ye,” the guard said.

MacDougall turned and opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Ah, I see ye’ve returned. With good news, I hope?” He embraced Alec like an old friend.

“I sent ye a missive last week and havena received a response,” Alec said. “I dinna like ye promising the outlaws gold to search my land. We hadna agreed to such a thing.”

The warmth melted from MacDougall’s face. “I can’t just stop the search when I know she is there.” His jaw twitched as if he were chewing on something.

“Ye mean the one ye spoke of before. The one who turned into a—”

“A bird, aye,” MacDougall nodded.

“What did she look like?” Alec asked. Trepidation squeezed at his gut. He knew the answer before MacDougall even spoke, but he had to hear it for himself.

“Beautiful.” MacDougall’s body was rigid. “Slender but curvy, with long hair so pale it shines like the moon.”

No one had hair like that save Celia.

Hot rage went dark within Alec. He flexed his fists at his side to cease the tremble of his hands. Celia’s bruised cheek had been a result of whatever MacDougall had done to her.

If they hadn’t been in Aros Castle, Alec would have struck the man dead with a single blow of his blade.

The desire to do so regardless strained at his conscience.

But he could not afford the war, not at the cost of his people. Especially not when they were already being ravaged by the outlaws.