Page 111 of Enchantment of a Highlander

MacDougall’s men hadn’t seen him yet—an advantage he needed. The hill was far larger than the humble cottage Duncan had described. Any man hiding who had a lick of thought in his head would never build a safe home without a trap door.

Going around the back could cost him time he didn’t have, but it might pay off. No matter what it took, no matter where she was, he would find a way to rescue Celia.

• • •

Celia cupped her hand around the candle and focused on the warm glow it cast around them. Even with its soft light, the threatening grip of darkness squeezed around her. The dank smell of wet earth hung heavy in the air.

She pressed her lips together and clamped them between her front teeth. The walls around them were carved through the hill and braced with a complex series of wooden beams.

A muffled bang came from behind the closed trap door.

Celia’s heart hammered so loud in her chest she thought surely they could hear her.

Surely they would find the secret passage and capture them.

Someone shouted. The words were too blocked by the shelf-door to be understood, but the tone sounded like an order. Duncan’s hand against her back became more insistent, pushing her forward.

The path ended in a thick stone slab. Duncan rushed forward and patted around the edges. His fingertips trembled despite his bravery.

A quiet click melted into the earthen walls.

Duncan pushed his body weight against the rock, his narrow shoulders squeezing together. Slowly the blockade moved and the sweet scent of fresh night air swept in. The candle flickered and went out.

Duncan grabbed her hand before the fragile wall of control could give way to panic and he tugged her into the moonlight.

Together they ran from the tunnel and out into the night.

A horse snorted nearby and they both went still. Celia’s pulse tapped an anxious beat.

The musty scent of the beast tainted the night air and slid a cord of unease down Celia’s back. She chanced a look up and her heart caught against her ribs.

Staring down at her from the great black beast, his face fierce in the shadowed light, was the very man whose image had haunted her for the whole of her self-imposed captivity.

Alec MacLean.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Alec’s chest crushed with relief. Celia stared up at him in the moonlight, her face gleaming like a pearl, her hair shining like precious white gold.

He remembered her being beautiful, but still her image robbed him of breath.

Hoof beats pulsed low in the distance and broke into the dizzying swirl of his thoughts.

“Celia.”

He leapt from his horse in a smooth movement and reached for her.

He wrapped his fingers around her smooth hand. It trembled against his palm.

“Great job, MacLean,” a grating voice said from the darkness of the surrounding forest.

Celia snatched her hand from Alec with a sharp gasp. Laird MacDougall emerged from the shadows with a force of men appearing behind him. Too many men.

A sardonic smile spread over the man’s grizzled chin. “I knew ye wouldna let me down.”

Alec turned to Celia. If he had his men with him, fighting would be an option. A risky one, but still one he would be willing to take.

For the boy.