Page 30 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
“Aye, take yer time. Rest will do ye good.” She paused at the door, glancing back with a teasing grin. “And if ye ever want to talk or need a friend, ye ken where to find me.”
Alexandra returned the smile, a rare moment of peace settling in her chest. “I’ll hold ye to that, Erica.”
The room felt less cold now, the firelight warming more than just her skin. As she closed the door behind her, Alexandra felt ready to face whatever this journey would bring.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Nicholas was restless that night. Like he oftentimes did when he couldn't sleep, he made his way to the empty kitchen. He stepped into the kitchen, drawn by the scent of warm honey and spice. The fire was low, casting a soft golden glow across the stone walls, and there she was—Alexandra—perched at the edge of the wooden table with a half-eaten honey cake in her hand.
Her lips glistened with sugar, and her eyes widened when she saw him. He raised a brow, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe.
“Stealin’ cakes now, are ye?” he drawled, a crooked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Dinnae ken I was holdin’ a prisoner so starved for sweets.”
Alexandra huffed, brushing crumbs from her skirts with exaggerated grace. “What else is a captive to do?” she retorted, her chin lifting in defiance.
Nicholas pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room, grabbing a jug of mead from the shelf. “Ye could drink instead,” he muttered, pouring two cups.
He slid one across the table toward her, the pottery clinking softly against the wood. Alexandra hesitated a moment, then took the cup and sniffed it like it might bite.
She took a cautious sip and made a face. “Och, it’s bitter,” she said, but she drank again anyway.
Nicholas watched her with a flicker of amusement. “That’s the bite of truth in it, lass. Goes down rough but warms ye by the end.”
They sat in silence for a moment, firelight dancing over their features.
Alexandra broke it with a low sigh, her voice quiet. “Nicholas… ye have to let me go.”
His gaze snapped to her, sharp and cold like iron freshly drawn from flame.
“I’m to marry Leo Rankin. Laird McLaren.” Her fingers tightened around the cup, knuckles whitening. "The reason ye took me at first is nay longer needed. So why am I here still?"
Nicholas’s jaw tensed, and a cold ripple spread across his chest. He ought to feel indifferent—she was a means to an end, nothingmore—but the thought of her wedding another man coiled like a snake in his gut.
His hand clenched around the handle of his cup, the knuckles whitening. “Leo?” he growled. “That snivelin’ bastard?”
Alexandra flinched, but she didn’t back down. “Is he worse than ye?”
Nicholas stood sharply, pacing once before slamming the cup back on the table.
His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “He’s filth. Always was. I’ve seen the way he treats folk weaker than him—like he’s crushin’ insects beneath his heel.”
Alexandra’s eyes narrowed. “Ye judge him while he hold me prisoner?” she snapped, rising to her feet.
Nicholas turned, towering over her, eyes flashing with something darker than anger. “Is that why ye’d marry him? Because I’m the worse evil?”
“Nay, it’s because I’ve nay choice in the matter,” she said, her voice softening. “Leo sent word to me brother, Caelan. Said if we refused his offer, he’d bring war to our clan. Burn our homes. Spill our blood. What would ye have me do?”
He looked at her, truly looked, and saw the sorrow swimming beneath the fire. She wasn’t bluffing. Her words weren’t emptythreats. Nicholas’s chest tightened with something like guilt—but deeper, more bitter.
He stepped back, the shadows clinging to him like a cloak. “So ye’d give yerself to a man like that for yer clan’s sake?”
Alexandra nodded, chin high, though her lip trembled just slightly. “Aye. I’d do what I must.”
Nicholas’s gaze lingered on her mouth, then drifted up to the stubborn defiance in her eyes. He could take her in his arms right then, kiss her until she forgot that cursed name. But he didn’t move. He didn’t dare. His heart had walls thicker than stone, and she was a danger to every part of it.
“And ye think he’ll treat ye kind?” he sneered. “Leo’s nae a husband, he’s a wolf with gold teeth. He’ll take what he wants and leave ye broken.”
Alexandra’s shoulders straightened, and her voice went steel. “Better broken by choice than from watchin’ from afar as me people fall.”
