Page 62 of Enchantment of a Highlander

“I was called to aid a man with a broken nose,” she said. “Any idea how it happened?”

He raised an eyebrow, but did not bother to reply.

“Did you do it?” she asked.

“Aye.”

Silence settled between them.

“Aye?” she repeated. “I don’t understand why you would do that. Had he—”

“Did ye check the wife’s arm while ye were there?” His expression held the same flat, disinterested look.

His question stabbed into the tender ache in Celia’s heart.

Alec reached into his pocket and withdrew several coins. “They dinna have much. Go tend to her.” He glanced overhead. “I need to fix this before the rain starts again.”

Celia stepped back from the money he held out, her cheeks burning. “I’ll not take your coin. I intend to see her later, when her husband is gone.”

Alec lunged at her suddenly and the coins flew from his hand. His weight hit her like a massive rock and sent them both flying to the sandy ground.

Air punched from her lungs.

Her mind scrambled to understand what was happening when something thunked into the wall above them.

She looked up and gravelly sand scraped against the back of her skull with the action. An arrow jutted from the side of the cottage.

Celia stared at it dumbly.

She’d been standing right there.

Right where the sharp head of the arrow had sunk completely into the wood frame of the house.

A scream rang out somewhere in the village and Alec loosed a gruff curse in her ear. He shoved off her and crouched low in front of her, his hand held out to the side in silent indication for her to stay down.

The same scream tore through the air before abruptly cutting short. Celia’s stomach curled into a hard ball and her pulse drummed in her ears. She scrambled to her feet and plastered herself to the wall.

Alec pulled his sword from behind his back, slowly, silently, until a blade of opalescent black flashed in the late afternoon sun.

She pulled her own dagger from her waist and curled her fingers around the hilt for protection.

“Round up all the women and children ye can find and seek safety,” Alec said without turning from the street.

His ice blue eyes met hers with calm determination. He pulled a dagger from his boot and thrust it toward her, hilt first. “Take this.”

His gaze searched hers, probing, intimate, conveying all the words she’d never let him say. He reached out and stroked her cheek. “Be safe.” The words—no—the command was hoarse with a passion that raked across her heart.

With that, he slipped from their alcove with his black sword bared and ran toward the sounds of shouts and screams and danger.

She looked down at the blade he’d given her. It was almost a sword compared to her own pathetic knife. She gripped the large hilt in her hands, the handle still warm from where it’d rested against his skin.

The alley contained a small haven, affording her a precious few seconds to assess the situation. Shrieks of fear sounded from the village. One in particular was high-pitched with pain and cut off with such finality, Celia’s own breath ceased.

People ran in all directions, some fleeing, some chasing, some bleeding. A large man ran past with a massive sword in his hand. Blood shimmered along the slick metal surface.

Everything in her demanded she slip away and return to her small cottage where it was safe.

But Alec was counting on her.