Page 98 of Enchantment of a Highlander

He gave a final nod before easing out the door. The shadows of the room darkened in his absence and curled around her heart.

Once again, she was alone.

• • •

Alec strode down the empty hall toward his solar. The castle was too dark despite the brilliant sunlight shining in through the precious glass. It had taken so long to replace the stink of fear and disappointment his father had left behind.

Brightness and joy had once again filled these halls, but all of that had fled with Celia.

His stomach gave a hard twist.

When Alec agreed to wed Saraid MacDougall, he’d provided his people with a calm they had not known in many decades. The outlaw raids had taken several days to quiet with the aid of MacDougall’s men, but once they were done, the villagers returned to their homes and life returned to normal.

For everyone but him.

True, his land was at peace and the restoration of the castle was finally almost complete, but his heart held a perpetual hole where Celia once resided.

His fingers wrapped around the thick metal handle and he pushed open the door to his solar.

The sweet spice of expensive oil met his nose before he saw her. And when he did see her, he found Saraid bent over his desk with a ledger propped open in her spread hand.

“Are ye looking out of curiosity or are ye gathering information for yer father?” Alec asked in a dry tone.

She did not jump at the reproach, nor did she slam the book shut with guilt. Instead, she turned from the open ledger and smiled at him from across the room. Her eyes lit with the same excitement they always did when she saw him. This time, she’d smeared carmine across her full lips. The color stood garish against the red of her gown and called attention to the mass of crooked teeth crowding her mouth.

“Neither,” she said with a sly smirk. “Ye know I dinna know my numbers.” She sauntered toward him in a hiss of silk. “My education has been directed toward making me a good wife.” Her lashes lowered. “Though I’m sure there is much I have to learn still—wifely duties ye will teach me.”

She reached out and caressed the fabric of his leine, just over his heart. While he did not pull away, he did not welcome her touch any more than he welcomed the thought of claiming her in bed.

He gave a noncommittal grunt.

Her hands slid over his chest and she pressed the great puff of her skirts against his legs. She gazed up at him with a stare bordering on desperation. “We dinna have to wait.” Her breasts swelled with her deep breath.

The scent of her perfume made his head spin, with her so overwhelmingly close. “I’m no that kind of man.”

Her eyes flashed with something dark. “Ye’re no the kind of man to secure a betrothal with a bit of bed sport, yet ye let yer kitchen staff talk to ye as if they were yer equal and ye lead that pathetic orphan about as if he were yer own heir.” She shot him a dangerous glare. “The kind of man who goes back on his word to locate the witch of Duart, the verra one my father has sought his whole life.”

Saraid had not changed since they were children. Still spoiled with entitlement.

“We have searched alongside yer father’s men for the witch and still no found her,” he reminded her.

It was only a partial truth. His men had searched with the MacDougall guards Alec allowed on his land, but nowhere near the crude cottage where Celia hid.

His heart crushed against his ribs at the thought of her.

She might have refused him, but he would not abandon her in her time of need.

Saraid tilted her head up at Alec and thrust out her lower lip. “Forgive me. I know ye’ve tried to find the witch. Perhaps I can help.”

“Help?” Something in her shrewd expression set a coil of unease tensing through him.

“If I find the witch, there will be nothing holding my father back from allowing us to wed.” Her brilliant red lips widened into a grin. “Then we can wed.”

Saraid strode away with a confident gait. He could have stopped her, silenced her efforts with the crush of his lips to hers, a feigning of affection.

But he could not bring himself to do it, not while the memory of Celia stayed so strong in his mind.

Celia was well hidden. So long as she stayed that way, Saraid would not find her, nor would MacDougall’s men.