Page 116 of Enchantment of a Highlander

Tonight.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Sounds of revelry swept in from the stairs on an icy current of wind. Celia wrapped her arms more tightly around herself and paced the small cell.

If she kept her body moving, she kept her mind moving.

Because she could not sit and think and feel.

It was too dangerous.

If she fell back in a place of terror, she might not ever emerge.

Her jaw ached where she’d been struck by the guard, but at least it had snapped her to her senses.

Somewhere in another cell a woman began to cry, a low, wailing, mourning sound.

Her voice was joined by several others until the chorus of their fear echoed all around Celia.

A sharp ache clutched her stomach. It should have been hunger, but she knew it was not. It was the hurt radiating from her heart, the piece of her so shattered it caused every part of her pain.

In all the years she’d been so alone, she’d worried loving someone would only leave them open for hurt.

Never once had she feared for herself, for the hurt love could cause.

She had trusted him, loved him, sacrificed for him, and he’d betrayed her.

Or had he?

Her mind raced with conflict. Not wanting to believe, yet unable to deny his acts.

Something shifted in the rushes below and her heart caught.

Rats.

Please, no. Not rats.

Her arms squeezed tighter against herself.

She was alone.

Without help, without love.

Without hope.

No, no, no, no.

She shook her head.

But it was too late. Her mind slipped somewhere she could not escape.

• • •

Alec sat at MacDougall’s right, a position of great honor, and he loathed himself for it.

The older laird put a hand on Alec’s shoulder and squeezed. “Ye’re going to be a fine son to me, lad. I’m proud of ye.”

Alec nodded mutely and tried to keep the revulsion from showing on his face.