Page 76 of Enchantment of a Highlander

She must know. He had to trust her to earn her trust.

He steeled himself against his own words when he spoke. “I am like him.”

Her gaze stayed watchful.

Trusting.

He’d never discussed the darkness, never admitted the tendencies pulling against every fiber of his morality.

Perhaps if she first understood.

He pulled her closer to him so her head lay against his chest, so he could not watch her face.

He didn’t want to see what might show in her eyes. Shock or fear—or worse, pity.

His stomach drew tight with unaccustomed nerves. “My father had always taken to whisky for as long as I can remember, and it made him verra angry.”

Alec stroked her hair and focused on the way the cool strands slipped between his fingers. “He was cruel to everyone, but my mother received the worst of it, as ye know.” He swallowed away the threat of his rising past. “And I hated him for it. I hated it so much it became like a living thing inside me, a growing darkness. It burned and swelled inside me until I couldn’t control it and hit him back.”

Memories of the day rushed up on him, the metallic odor of his father’s blood mingling with the stink of stale whisky.

“I dinna stop hitting him. I couldna make myself stop until my mother’s hands covered my fists and I stopped. My father lay broken and pathetic on the floor.”

Rage balled inside him with a white-hot burn, as intense as it’d been in his youth. “He dinna strike me again and I slept in front of my mother’s door to ensure he didn’t attempt to harm her either. But even though I defeated him, even though I won, that darkness never went away.”

The anger melted like molten metal, bathing his heart in the weight of loss. “My mother succumbed to sickness later and died quickly, like she dinna have the will to fight. After she died, I left. It wasna my father I tried to flee.” He stopped, hating the words he was saying. “It was the darkness. The ugly side of me stemming from him, the part of me raging anger or demanding recompense for wrongs.”

He closed his eyes against the shame of what he confessed. “I dinna realize my absence left everyone subjected to his wrath.” His hand curled into a fist against the sheet. “I dinna think about the people who needed protection.”

Celia sat up with a sheet tucked around her torso. Her eyes were soft when they met his, but held no pity. “After all the years you sacrificed to protect your mother, you are anything but selfish.”

“No,” he said sharply. “Ye make me sound chivalrous. But a chivalrous man wouldna have left his people. He wouldna have the weakness of his father where one drink leads to ten and the world flies out of control.”

The rising sun now filled the room in a brilliant light, a harsh contrast to the darkness of his memories. “That night I grabbed yer arm, I felt him in the darkness inside of me. That ugly, inescapable part of him. All those years I ran only to find out it was a waste.”

Celia gave him a pointed stare. “You asked me to trust you last night.” Her cheeks stained bright red. “Do you remember?”

Of course he did. His body had been so hot, so hungry, and the way she’d pulled away maddened him. He wanted to be more to her than where she found her pleasure.

She slipped her hand in his. “And I did trust you. I still do. You are a strong man, Alec. You have convictions your father never possessed and you fight for the right reasons.”

Her face tilted up toward him so sunshine played across her fair skin and her pupils shrank back into pinpricks of black in her midnight blue eyes. “Would you ever hurt me?”

He stared down at her open expression, all the trust he had asked for shining bright before him. “I would never hurt ye.” He traced the delicate bruise on her cheek. It had begun to heal and reflected a deep yellow. “But would easily kill any man who did.”

“I believe you,” she whispered.

“Tell me who did this to ye.” His blood simmered to know who would cause a woman so delicate as Celia such pain.

Something shadowed her eyes and she looked away.

Her look confirmed his suspicions. She was no longer safe. The outlaw’s confession prior to his death had proven such. A coil of unease tightened along his back. He’d been with her through the night, but could not always protect her thus, not when he was needed at Duart.

Alec swept his mouth against her jaw. “Ye dinna have to tell me.” He traced her lower lip with his tongue. “But do me one favor, aye?”

She closed her eyes and her lips parted with sweet enticement.

“Come to Duart Castle with me,” he said quietly.