Page 53 of Enchantment of a Highlander

“Anything else?” Alec asked.

Donnell shook his head.

A loud clap of thunder rolled through the angry clouds.

“Aye, then go on before the rain starts.” Before the words were out of Alec’s mouth, the rain did start—in great, fat drops spattering against his chilled skin.

Alec stayed for a moment, letting the cold water plop against his head and face before seeking his own refuge within the walls of the keep.

MacDougall might be mad with his witch trials, but he was also a formidable enemy and a strong ally.

Alec’s time was running out and Laird MacDougall needed an answer.

Tension crushed against Alec’s skull.

He’d gone all of five feet within the massive entrance when Wynda came flying at him like a wraith. “My laird, thank God ye’re back.” She plucked at her fingers. “It’s Duncan.”

A trickle of rain slid down Alec’s back like ice. “What about Duncan?”

“He’s missing.” Tears rolled down her bright red cheeks. “Celia dinna come today and he kept asking after her. I gave him his tea and told him to rest. But when I went back later to go check on him…”

She pulled her apron to her face and let out a howling sob. Her rasping gasps echoed off the high ceilings.

Alec’s heart constricted.

“Did none of the guards see him leave?” he demanded.

She shook her head.

“Did Celia ever come? Ever send word?”

Again, she shook her head. “She’s no ever missed a day, hasna even been late once. I shouldna have said I was worried about her.” She blew her nose into her apron in a great, loud honk. “It’s all my fault.”

The rain hissed louder outside and Wynda’s gaze slid toward an open window.

Alec knew what she was thinking. Duncan and Celia were out there. In the cold, in the wet, and she was not there to protect them.

Her helplessness tightened around him as well, for he was not there to protect them either.

He placed a hand on Wynda’s shaking shoulders and held fast to his own determination. “We’ll find them. Get me Donnell. I’ll have him organize a search party.”

Wynda nodded and ran off with a speed he hadn’t thought the plump woman capable of.

Duncan had been much healthier as of late and would survive the storm. If anything, the lad had most likely ducked under a tree or found himself a cottage to beg a meal from in an effort to avoid the rain.

And Celia.

His stomach clenched at the thought of her. He hadn’t spoken to her since she’d told him she didn’t want to see him. Since she’d left him after he’d told her he was afraid he might be like his father. He’d scared her away and had never forgiven himself for it.

Perhaps she was warm and safe in her cottage.

A chill rose across his skin.

But perhaps she was not.

Chapter Sixteen

The thick green salve melted against Celia’s fingertips and spread across the wound on her cheek like butter. Soon the agrimony and slanlus mixture would ease the throbbing burn of each cut and scrape she’d suffered during her escape.