Page 22 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
“Still,” Marcus said, stepping forward, “this is nae the Oscar we kent all these years. He was sharp once. Cold, aye, but nae mad.”
“Since Annabeth died, he’s been slippin’. The grief twisted him into somethin’ unrecognizable. I thought it harmless ramblings at first—talk of spirits, of blood debts, of the ‘old ways.’ But this... takin’ Charlie—he’s gone too far," Nicholas said.
Marcus’s expression tightened. “Ye think his grief for Annabeth has driven him mad?"
“I ken it has. Look what he's done. Abductin’ his own grandchild,” Nicholas’s voice dropped, the words weighted. "She was his only child, so I have some understandin’. Almost losin’ Charlie near drove me to madness as well, but it's nae enough for me to forgive him."
Marcus gave a grim nod. “What’s yer plan then? Keep him locked up forever?”
“Maybe,” Nicholas said with a shrug. “Let him waste away in the dark with only his guilt for company.” His hands curled into fists again. “He touched me son. There’s nay comin’ back from that.”
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the snap of the firewood. Marcus finally said, “If ye need me, I’ll help with whatever comes next.”
Nicholas nodded once. “I’ll hold ye to that. There’ll be consequences for what he’s done—aye, and for all the years of poison he’s poured into this clan.” His voice dropped again, softer but no less dangerous. “Nay one harms me kin and walks free.”
His thoughts remained clouded. It wasn't just Oscar festering in the back of his skull. It was her—Alexandra.
She’d been ghosting about the castle like a spirit, eating in her chambers, avoiding his eyes like he were plague-ridden. And after that kiss…
Saints, that kiss... I’d felt the fire of it for two nights straight, and still it burned. But she acts like it had never happened.
Aye, she was proud, that one—sharp-tongued and stubborn as a mule—but he’d seen the way she’d melted against him. Her breath had caught, her lips had parted, her hands had grippedhis tunic like she wanted more. It hadn't been one-sided, no matter how much she tried to pretend. And now she was running, and it crawled under his skin like thorns.
He clenched his jaw, arms folded tight across his chest. Maybe it was guilt that kept her away. Maybe she regretted what she’d felt—what they’d shared. But damn it all, she had no right to act like he was the one who’d done wrong.
Nicholas sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. Oscar rotted in the dungeon, his past clawing back to haunt them all—but it was Alexandra who twisted his thoughts the worst. He could fight armies, crush traitors, and survive betrayal.
But one lass with fire in her eyes and silence on her tongue had him bloody well losing sleep. His brow was drawn, jaw tight, arms folded as if they alone held his thoughts from bursting free.
“I ken that face. What’s gnawin’ at ye, then?” Marcus asked, stepping forward with a tilt of his head. “Ye’ve been glowerin’ like a man and I ken it's nae about Charlie.”
Nicholas didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames. Marcus waited a beat longer, then added, “This about the lass?”
At the mention of her, Nicholas’s growl was low, half warning, half admission.
“Aye, she’s been avoidin’ me since… I kissed her.” He shifted his stance, voice rough like gravel. “Daenae ask me why I did it. I got carried away.”
Marcus crossed his arms and gave him a look. “That’s nae like ye, Nicholas. Ye’re nae a man who loses control.”
Nicholas met his eyes for a breath, then looked away again.
“I ken,” he muttered. “But she… she gets under me skin. And now she’s hidin’ in her room like I’m the devil himself.” His tone was bitter.
“Maybe ye should talk to her,” Marcus said gently. “Tell her it willnae happen again so she can stop avoidin’ ye. Or is it that ye want to be close to her?"
Nicholas gave a short laugh with no mirth. “That’s just it. I cannae be close to another. Nae again.”
Marcus sighed and moved closer. “Ye cannae live the rest of yer life behind a wall, Nicholas. Ye’ll choke on yer own solitude.”
Nicholas stared at him, but his expression didn’t soften.
“It’s safer this way,” he said simply. “Feelings make a man weak. I’ve nay place for weakness.”
“Ye’ve a son who’ll need more than strength. He’ll need tenderness too. Love, the kind a maither gives,” Marcus said firmly. “Daenae shut every door just because one slammed in yer face before.”
Nicholas didn’t answer. The words echoed, but he refused to let them settle. Marcus shook his head, defeated for now, and gave the room one last glance.
“I’m goin’ to check the outer walls,” he muttered, stepping back. “Try nae to let yer heart turn to stone entirely.”
