Page 48 of Enchantment of a Highlander

Alec walked to the bed.

The boy blinked his eyes open. They seemed to take a while to focus before he gave a tired grin of recognition.

Alec’s chest was so tight it hurt to draw breath.

He wanted to tell the lad how much he’d missed those incessant questions that had somehow become normal, how life wasn’t the same without his little shadow, how never before in Alec’s life had he been so scared of a loss.

“About time ye woke up.” Alec’s voice felt thick in his own mouth.

The boy’s smile widened. “Missed me?”

“It’s been quiet,” Alec confessed. He tousled Duncan’s straw colored hair. It slid like silk between his fingers. “Too quiet.”

Duncan puffed out his narrow chest. “I’ll get better as fast as I can.”

“Aye, lad, I know. Ye never let me down.” Alec gave him a smile. “But first get some rest.”

The boy nodded and his eyes were already closing once more.

Alec approached Celia with slow reverence, this incredible woman who haunted his thoughts, who healed the broken, who brought life to what was almost dead.

What she’d done had been nothing short of a miracle.

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Thank you for your kind words to him. It will help speed his recovery.”

“I need to talk to ye,” he said in a low voice to keep from disturbing Duncan.

She gave a single terse nod and set about gathering her belongings.

He bent to retrieve her pack, but she stopped him with a slender hand. “I can handle my own bag.”

Her words stung. She didn’t want his help, even when he needed hers.

And he did need her. Beyond the longing to lie next to her and stroke the velvety softness of her skin, beyond the desire to listen to her strong voice when she spoke and stare deep into those blue eyes, he needed her aid.

If she could save Duncan, what else could she do?

This was a woman he could not afford to lose with his lust. He would have to keep her on his land no matter the cost—even at the sacrifice of his own desires.

Even if it meant telling her things he’d never told a soul before.

• • •

Celia sat in the chill of Alec’s solar. It was significantly colder than Duncan’s room and met her overheated skin like a caressing sigh.

Alec did not sit. He stood in front of the empty fireplace with a hand braced on the mantel and his gaze fixed on the gaping hole of blackened stone. His seriousness seemed to strip all joy from the world.

He’d not shaved yet and the dark prickle of stubble on his chin looked more like him than his smoothly shaven face of the previous morning. His hair had come loose from its braid at some point and hung in dark waves.

“I was wrong.” The words came out deep and rumbling. “I shouldna have gone to yer cottage last night, I shouldna have threatened Grant, and I shouldna…” His voice tapered off.

He turned toward her, his eyes blazing with such ferocity it burned away his appearance of exhaustion. “I shouldna have grabbed yer arm.”

“You didn’t hurt me—”

“I scared ye. That’s enough.” He shook his head.

There was more. It hung in the air between them, pregnant with anticipation.