Page 88 of Enchantment of a Highlander

All words fled her tongue. Of all the things he could have said, this was certainly the least expected. Lairds did not marry destitute orphans who’d been to prison, not even honorable ones like Alec.

The hard look on his face melted to something tender, something that tugged at her in a way she’d fought too long to resist.

“I want ye to remain at Duart with me,” Alec said. “No hidden away as my mistress, but at my side.” His pale blue eyes met hers. “As my wife.” His hand skimmed down her stomach once more in a loving caress. “I want ye to be the woman who bears my sons.”

Celia opened her mouth, but no words came out. No man had ever spoken to her with such earnest affection. Her heart ached beneath the stroke of his words, foolishly begging for a love she feared.

She shook her head against the emotion warming her face. Her gaze shifted to his hand and she imagined her belly round with his child.

“Dinna answer yet,” he said quickly.

She looked up and found him watching her with his brows slightly raised in an almost pleading expression.

“I’m a peasant,” she said. “You deserve someone better than me.”

His jaw hardened. “There is no better woman than ye, Celia.” He removed his hand from her stomach and cupped her cheek. “Please think on this for a few days, aye?”

Deep down, she knew she should refuse him outright, to not give him false hope. To agree with what he asked would put her own crumbling will at risk.

Yet to refuse to at least consider his proposal would be cruel, especially when he’d given so much so freely, when he’d awoken a part of her she thought had long since died.

And truth be told, she wanted this. With all her heart and every selfish fiber of her being, she wanted this.

But not forever. Only long enough to taste it, to build memories to look back on, to placate him.

She could play the part a few more days and use that time to find an undeniable reason she would have to decline his proposal.

“I’ll think on it,” she answered slowly, willing him to see her hesitation.

His lips stretched in a wide smile and the corners of his eyes crinkled with a joy she’d never seen him express.

Already the weight of guilt pressed heavy to her heart.

She reinforced the wall of her resolve.

She would see him hurt over seeing him dead.

She could not marry Alec MacLean.

• • •

A mighty wind rolled over the high wall of the castle and pushed against Alec. He braced himself in a wide-legged stance, the same as Duncan did beside him.

The boy got stronger with each passing day. If he grew another foot more, he’d be taller than Alec.

Guards gathered in the courtyard below, set in perfect lines as they’d been taught. A hard call echoed off thick stone before being swept away. The men charged one another, their movements fluid and well-honed. Though Alec’s force was small, his men were strong and capable.

Duncan stared down, his gaze fixed intently on the movements below.

“Battle always looks different from above,” Alec said.

The boy didn’t take his eyes from the clash of men. “Different how?”

Memories of Alec’s countless battles bled into his mind. “People blur together and men come at ye from all angles. It can be disorienting.”

The fierce wind blew against them and pulled Duncan’s blond hair until it stood straight up. The boy did not notice. “How is it disorienting? Is it…”

When Duncan didn’t finish, Alec glanced over and found the boy’s mouth puckered to the right side of his face.