Page 86 of Enchantment of a Highlander

Now he understood why she remained so tightly wrapped in the protection of herself. He couldn’t imagine what horrors she’d seen there, what she’d experienced.

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her toward his chest. She melted against him, her skin like ice, and buried her face into his chest.

“They would put out the torches at night.” Her lips moved against his skin with warm breath. “It would be so dark I wondered sometimes if I’d gone blind. That’s when the rats came. They would nibble on clothes and hair. Sometimes they would bite.” Her voice went small. “You couldn’t see them, only feel the clip of their teeth. I could hear the sounds of torture as they tried to get the witches to confess their crimes.”

He flattened his hand over her slender back and rubbed it gently, as if he could soothe away the years of haunted pain. “Did they torture ye, lass?” he asked gently. Perhaps he should not have, but he needed to know.

“Not me.” Her voice wavered slightly.

“Fiona,” he surmised. “Yer mother?”

She drew in a shaky breath. Her body trembled.

“I had no parents, but she took me in.” Her body curled forward. “She loved me.” Soft sobs sounded from her. “It was my fault.”

He held her, saying nothing, being the rock of support she needed. There was a deep ache in him at his own stark helplessness to undo her hurt.

“Ye dinna need to talk anymore if ye prefer.” He drew in a deep breath of her scent and kissed her head. “I’m here, lass. There’s no anything that can hurt ye. I’ll light a fire and put a candle by the bed, aye?”

The thought of MacDougall rose forefront in his mind, the other man’s insanity, his hatred.

For witches.

Now Alec understood her fear of the trials.

And now he was all the more frightened for her with MacDougall’s hunt.

His arms tightened around Celia as if squeezing her might offer her more protection.

She nodded against his chest. “Will you hold me while I sleep?”

She didn’t even need to ask. He would hold her for a lifetime. “Aye, love, I will.”

So long as there was breath in his body, Celia would never again be harmed.

• • •

Precious candles flickered around the room, lighting it with the brilliant glow of day. Celia curled closer to Alec’s powerful body. For this one night, she would allow herself to revel in his strength with the press of his warm skin over the chill of hers.

His arms braced her to him in a solid wall of protection. For this one night, she would allow herself to feel safe.

Exhaustion weighed down her lids and memories scraped through her battered mind.

“You’ve been here too long, witch. You need to sign your confession and be done with it.” The guard’s voice carrying down the hall was hard. They all were.

“I’m not…a witch,” Fiona rasped.

Celia’s heart pounded so hard it made her want to empty the meager contents of her stomach, as it always did when they returned Fiona.

Celia scrambled upright in her cell and ran in two stiff strides toward the door.

There was a pause, a scuffle of feet, a smack of flesh to something hard.

Celia’s stomach lurched.

“You’ll confess, witch, or we’ll start working on the girl.”

“She’s too young,” Fiona whispered, as if she knew Celia listened.