Page 65 of Enchantment of a Highlander

“Please…” the woman’s voice cried once more. “Please help me.”

Everything in Celia told her to stay where she was, to guard the children, to protect herself. She thought back to Alec, to the way he’d selflessly thrown himself into battle.

He was brave.

Rounding up the children had not been brave. It’d been easier than she thought it might be.

Rescuing the woman outside. Putting herself at risk to do so was brave.

Celia eased her heels from where they dug into the floor and the blood tingled back into the soles of her feet. “Of course I’m not going to leave her.”

“Take this.” She extended Alec’s dagger toward a sturdy woman who sat beside her. Alec’s blade would be more effective than her own weapon. “Stand to the side of the door and if anyone but me comes through here, you stab them as hard and as many times as you can.”

The woman passed her small child to Moira and rose from the ground. Her eyes were wide with fear and the blade trembled in her hand, but she stood where Celia indicated.

The women and their children bunched toward the back of the small cottage and Celia slid the door open.

Moira had been correct. No man stood in front of the door, save the body of the one who’d pursued her. His head lay several feet from his body.

Her stomach lurched into her throat.

“My baby,” the woman whimpered. She sobbed beneath a veil of brown hair and reached for Celia, her fingers smeared with blood. “Please, help my baby.” Her other hand clutched her abdomen where a bright red stain showed against the off-white homespun gown.

This time Celia did not hesitate. She darted into the street. Her feet slid in the blood-soaked sand, but she did not allow it to slow her.

Nothing would thwart her purpose.

She tangled her fingers in the woman’s dress at the shoulders and threw her weight back, dragging the woman toward the cottage.

Celia’s eyes scanned the streets with restless fear. Everything in her was on alert, noting every color, every howl of the wind, every terrifying scent in the air.

Lifeless bodies lay everywhere and blood stained the walls and ground.

At last, she reached the rough cottage and gave a quick knock. The door swung open and the mother tensed in her position by the door.

Celia gave one final heave with a strength she never thought possible and threw both herself and the bleeding woman into the cottage. Into safety.

Moira ran forward and slammed the door shut and the mother slipped the bolt into place with a bang.

Celia directed her full attention to the woman in the blood-smeared dress. She pushed the woman’s hair back from her face and the breath pulled from her lungs.

Bessie stared sightless with pupils too large for her glassy brown eyes. Her colorless lips worked in a whispered plea, a mindless chant repeated over and over again. “Save my baby, save my baby…”

• • •

Alec’s body moved in steady rhythms, ducking and driving against his opponents, forcing them back with the push of additional manpower at his side.

His father’s men might have been disbanded for some years, but their skill had not diminished with time. If anything, it had improved.

Only a handful of outlaws remained. Their defensive maneuvers had gone slow and sluggish with exhaustion.

A shout rose up from the back and they scattered into the forest. Alec charged after them, accompanied by the heavy footfalls of his father’s men, and arrived in time to see the outlaws scamper onto the backs of several waiting horses before riding off in a thunderous pounding of hooves.

Four additional horses remained, riderless. The beasts stared indifferently at Alec and his father’s men. Even if all the outlaws had lived, most would be without a steed for their escape.

Alec gripped the reins of the first horse and swung up onto its back. The animal flinched beneath his weight. The horse was not trained for war.

“We can catch them if we hurry,” he said to his father’s band of warriors.