Page 33 of Enchantment of a Highlander

And was one of the neighboring lairds ready to kill any MacLean at any moment. Not a good option for an ally. Not for him, at least.

“He’s old.” There was a flatness to Saraid’s voice.

Alec shrugged and cast her a weary look. “We all will be eventually.”

She planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. It was the same action she’d done when they were children.

“Do ye even care that I’ll be wed?” The shrill note in her voice needled his ears.

He stilled.

Something about her made him feel like he was always going to give the wrong answer.

“I thought ye wanted to be wed,” he answered.

Hadn’t she said she wanted marriage when they spoke at the market?

Or maybe she’d said she’d been offered marriage.

He had been too preoccupied with thoughts of what he’d find at Duart.

She met his gaze and ducked her head in a demure fashion. The action seemed ridiculous after her brash display of irritation. “Aye, I do. But I’m waiting for just the right man.”

He nodded and turned back to the ruined curtain wall.

Looking at it again was like another hard punch to the gut.

Maybe Saraid was right about approaching MacDougall. If they could form some kind of alliance, Alec could easily defeat the bands of rogue men and let Duart’s rebuild continue uninterrupted.

“I should be going,” Saraid said.

Alec turned to her one last time, his mind made up. “Wait.”

Her hand rested on his sleeve and she gave a low hum of interest.

“Tell yer da I’ll come see him tomorrow.”

Saraid’s smile grew wide. “As ye wish, laird.”

He ground his teeth against the reality of it, but knew he had little choice. This was what lairds did for their land. This was what his father should have done.

And after the way Alec had abandoned the people to handle his father on their own, this was what he had to do.

Tomorrow he would seek the aid of the one remaining laird who could give him aid.

• • •

Celia strode into Duart Castle the next day with honest-earned coins in her pocket and stoic determination. The soft soles of her crude shoes thudded on the floors with her resolve.

She would find Alec and she would have him listen.

A door slammed in the hall behind her, a loud pop of wood slapping hard against stone.

Celia spun around and found Alec standing in front of a door several paces away. He still faced the closed room, his head bowed.

She knew what she’d say. She’d gone over the speech in her head on the way. Over and over and over again until her main arguments were lodged word by perfectly composed word in her head.

She knew what she would say and yet she didn’t go to him. But nor did she turn away.