Page 10 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
“Ye’re certain?” he demanded, his voice a growl as his eyes narrowed, locking onto the guard’s.
The man nodded quickly, barely able to hold his ground under the intensity of Nicholas’s glare. "Marcus bid me come to ye straight away as he secures the others."
“Go,” Nicholas commanded with a wave of his hand, dismissing the guard without another word.
He stepped back inside. The door closed with a soft thud, leaving him alone with Alexandra once more. His gaze snapped to her, eyes wild and feral as he sized her up, trying to reconcile what he’d just learned with the situation he found himself in. He moved to her.
"Stand up," he said.
"Why?" she asked.
Instead of answering, he pulled her to her feet. He pulled her cloak off her. There it was. At her waist sat a sash in the clan colors of Sinclair, not MacLaren.
"Tell me yer brother's name, lass," he said.
"What? Ye already ken his name. Ye've spoken of nothin’ but me brother since-"
"Say it!" he shouted.
"Caelan. Caelan Moore!" she shouted back.
His lips curled into a dark, cruel smirk that barely reached his eyes.
“Well, well,” he murmured, taking a step toward her, his voice dripping with mockery. “Ye’re a right unlucky lass, aren’t ye? To catch the eye of Laird McLaren and end up here, in me hands.”
His tone was thick with disdain, but there was something else beneath it, something that spoke of a twisted curiosity that only deepened his intrigue.
He saw Alexandra’s confusion plain on her face, but Nicholas felt a strange satisfaction in the power he held over her, regardless of the mistaken identity.
"We thought ye the sister of McLaren, nae his betrothed," he said.
Alexandra shot him a glare, her defiance clear as she lifted her chin, her voice ringing with anger. “If ye’ve got the wrong woman, ye should let me go, Robertson,” she spat, her eyes blazing with fire. “I’m nae the one ye’re after, so ye’ve nay reason to keep me here.” Her words hung in the air, daring him to act on them, to test her resolve.
Nicholas’s amusement flickered in his expression, but it quickly faded into something darker. His eyes narrowed with irritation, his jaw tightening as he took another step closer to her, his presence looming over her.
“Ye should be careful, lass,” he warned, his voice low and lethal. “The last person who made demands of me ended up without one of his hands.”
The words hung between them, heavy with menace, yet there was something about her defiant posture, the fire in her eyes, that both irked and intrigued him. His gaze lingered on her, studying her with a twisted fascination as she stood her ground. This wasn’t the timid, broken woman he’d expected, and that made her all the more dangerous. He couldn’t help but wonder what else lay beneath her sharp tongue and fiery glare.
He stood motionless, watching Alexandra with a cool, calculating gaze as she demanded once more to be released. Her eyes burned with frustration, her voice carrying the sharp edge of a woman who had been wronged.
“Clearly, this is yer mistake, nae me own,” she said, her tone desperate but unwavering. “As I've said, ye have nay reason to keep me here, so let me go.”
“I cannae do that, lass,” he replied, his voice low and steady, filled with an authority that brooked no argument. He saw the fire in her eyes flare with indignation, and it only made his grip on his patience grow tighter. She wasn’t afraid of him, and that stirred something within him he hadn’t expected.
“Ye’re a brute,” she spat, her voice thick with contempt. “A beast, treatin’ a woman like this.” The words stung, but Nicholas didn’t flinch.
“Aye, I’m a brute,” Nicholas growled, his tone dark and filled with quiet menace. “And ye’d best remember that, lass, before ye make demands ye cannae back up.” He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear as he added, “I’ve been through worse than ye, and I’ve dealt with worse, too. Yer insults mean little to me.”
“Ye’ve nay right,” she said, her voice steady, though her heart raced. “I’m nae the one ye’re after, so why bother? Let me go before ye make a bigger mistake.”
Nicholas paused, studying her carefully, as if weighing her words. “Ye daenae get it, do ye?” he said slowly, his voice dripping with a quiet intensity. “I’ve made me decision. And ye, lass, are part of it.” His eyes darkened, and his smirk faded into something far colder. “I’ll nae be lettin’ go of anythin’ anytime soon.”
Her breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. “Why are ye doing this?” she demanded, her voice cracking slightly. “What do ye want from me?” There was desperation now, but still that fierce defiance, a fire that refused to be quenched.
“What do I want?” he echoed, his voice hardening. “I want ye to understand yer place, lass. Ye’re in me hands now. And ye willnae be leavin’ until I get me son back.” He straightened up, his eyes locking onto hers with a gaze that felt like a physical weight.
"But I already told ye me brother does nae have yer child," she said.
