Page 13 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused by her bravado. “Ye’re testin’ me patience, lass,” he warned, his voice softer now, almost like a purr, but no less menacing. “I can be a generous man if ye mind yer place. But if ye push me…” He trailed off, and the unspoken threat hung in the air like a heavy fog.
Alexandra’s stomach churned, and she fought to steady herself, refusing to let her fear show.
“I daenae want to cause trouble,” she replied quickly, her voice small despite her best efforts to sound strong. She could feel the walls of the room closing in on her as he took another step closer, and her instincts screamed at her to run. But she stood her ground, her chin lifted defiantly. “I just want to ken that Erica’s all right, then I'll do as ye say."
"Ye’d do well to remember who holds the power here.” His words sent a shiver down her spine, but Alexandra held his gaze, refusing to show how deeply his threats had affected her.
She saw his eyes flick over her. “Why did ye nae change for bed instead of being in that uncomfortable dress that keeps ye up?” he asked, his tone low, but there was something curious about the question.
Alexandra flushed, and without thinking, she shot back, “I have nay luggage, do I?”
Nicholas remained silent for a long moment, his piercing gaze never leaving her face, as if weighing her response.
“Aye, I see,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze softening ever so slightly. “Come with me,” he added, his voice rough but commanding, and without waiting for a reply, he moved toward the door.
Alexandra hesitated for a heartbeat before following him, the tension in her chest tightening. She walked silently behind him as he led her down a narrow hallway, the storm’s howling winds muffling their footsteps. When he stopped in front of a door, he pushed it open, revealing a large, dimly lit room. Inside, a wardrobe stood against one wall, its rich wood polished to a deep sheen.
Nicholas stepped aside, motioning for her to enter. “Pick any of the dresses ye like,” he said, his voice suddenly softer. The room smelled faintly of lavender and fresh linens, a stark contrast to the cold, damp air outside.
Alexandra’s eyes wandered over the array of beautiful dresses and nightgowns hanging from the wardrobe, each more elegant than the last, and her fingers itched to touch the fine fabrics.
She stepped closer and pulled a pale blue nightdress from the rack, the soft fabric slipping through her fingers like water. Then, she picked a soft green dress, simple but still fine enough to wear in the morning. Holding both garments, she turned toward him, her expression a mixture of defiance and curiosity.
“Who owns these fine dresses?” she asked, her voice steady despite the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside her.
“That’s none of yer concern,” he muttered, his voice low but firm.
Alexandra stood still, the dresses hanging from her hands as silence filled the room. Her mind spun, trying to make sense of everything—her abduction, his claim about his son, and the strange, dangerous man standing before her. Despite her anger and confusion, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him, not if he truly believed her brother had taken his child; she would probably respond in the same way if it were her child.
Her chest ached, and she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of sympathy for him, for the pain that drove his actions, even though they were misguided. She didn’t want to give him that satisfaction, but a part of her softened in spite of herself.
Finally, she lifted her gaze and spoke, her voice steady but firm. "I daenae ken about McLaren, but I ken me brother would never take someone else’s child. He's a good man," she said, the words leaving her with more conviction than she felt. "In case ye still think it is me brother that has wronged ye."
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed at her words, his expression unreadable for a moment. He shifted slightly, standing straighter as if preparing for a confrontation. "Daenae be so sure birdie. Ye daenae ken all the details of what goes on behind closed doors."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next morning, Alexandra stood before the mirror, studying the dress she had borrowed. The fabric was soft and light, a deep shade of green that made her eyes seem brighter, but it was the lace in the front that caught her attention. If she pulled the laces just so, they would reveal more than she was comfortable with, and she quickly tugged them tighter, trying to keep the delicate fabric in place. She didn’t need any more discomfort today, especially with what lay ahead.
There was a knock at the door, followed by Erica’s voice calling her name.
"Mistress? It's me, Erica," she said.
Alexandra straightened and hurried to answer, finding the maid standing there with a small smile on her face.
"Erica!" Alexandra hugged her. "Are ye all right?"
"I am fine, mistress," Erica said, hugging her back. "Are ye hurt?"
"Nay, I am nae. I was so worried about ye," Alexandra said, pulling her inside the room and closing the door.
"As was I of ye. I thought ye were in a dungeon somewhere," Erica said.
"I thought the same of ye," Alexandra responded.
"They have been kind to me, more than expected. I have been given a room in the servant quarters and told nae to venture outside the castle walls or I will be punished, or worse ye will be punished," she said.
"Aye, I was told the same. Let us nae test our fates until I have plan to get us out of here," Alexandra said.
