Page 24 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
Her steps were measured, but her mind was a storm. She needed air, distance, clarity—anything to make sense of what had just happened. Her path led her around a corner where a familiar figure appeared.
“Alexandra?” Erica's brows lifted. “Ye look flushed. Are ye feelin’ ill?”
“Nay,” Alexandra replied quickly, forcing a tight smile. “I just need to lie down a while. That’s all.”
Erica looped her arm through Alexandra’s without hesitation. “Come now, let’s get ye to yer chamber. Ye’ve got that look like ye’re thinkin’ too much again.”
Once inside the room, Erica helped her to the chair near the hearth and fetched a glass of water from the pitcher on the side table.
She handed it to Alexandra, who took it gratefully and sipped. The coolness steadied her, if only a little. The room was quiet, save for the distant crackle of flames.
“Are ye upset because ye’re unsure what to do?” Erica asked gently, sitting across from her.
Alexandra hesitated, then nodded. “Aye. It’s like I’m caught in a snare. I keep thinkin’ we’re stuck—and I daenae ken how we’ll get out of this mess.”
Erica’s gaze softened. “Is it about yer brother?”
Alexandra was too ashamed to admit her lustful thoughts about Nicholas, so she simply agreed.
“Aye,” Alexandra said quietly. “I still daenae ken if Caelan is aware of what's happened to us. And when Leo finds out I’m nae comin’ to marry him—” she broke off, eyes clouding. “God kens what he’ll do. He’s nae the sort to take insult lightly.”
Erica sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “It’s all happened so fast. Too fast, really. But we’re here now, and we’re safe, and that’s what matters.”
Alexandra looked at her gratefully, the pressure in her chest easing just a little.
“Thank ye, Erica. I daenae ken what I’d do without ye.”
“Well, I’ll fetch us a bit of food, and ye can lie down after,” Erica said, rising with a determined nod. “A nap will do ye good.”
“Thank ye,” Alexandra murmured again, eyes heavy with more than just exhaustion.
Erica left with a swish of skirts and returned a few moments later with a wooden tray in her hands. The scent of warm bread and rich meat filled the room at once.
“Brought us a bit of bannock, some smoked haddie, and leftover neeps and tatties,” she said cheerfully.
They ate quietly, the hearty food grounding them both. Alexandra nibbled slowly, but every bite soothed her, the familiar tastes reminding her of home.
Erica chatted lightly, and Alexandra was grateful for it. She felt her body finally beginning to relax.
When they finished, Erica took the tray and set it aside. “Now, off for a nap with ye,” she said with a wink.
Alexandra didn’t argue. She crossed to the bed and lay down, the soft mattress beneath her helped.
Her eyes drifted shut, but her mind lingered still on Nicholas—on his voice, his hands, and the heat in his gaze. Sleep took her, though it was fitful, restless, and filled with fragments of dreams she did not dare to name.
Alexandra stirred awake, the weight of sleep still heavy in her limbs. The room had dimmed with the sinking sun, shadows stretching long across the wooden floor. She sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her forehead before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. With a soft sigh, she rose, crossed to the washbasin, and splashed cool water on her face.
The cold bite of it cleared the lingering fog from her mind. She patted her cheeks dry with a linen cloth and smoothed her hair as best she could. The hunger from earlier had faded, replaced by a restlessness she couldn’t name. She stepped out of her chamber, the air in the corridor carrying the faint scent of peat smoke and baked oats.
Her steps led her toward the kitchen, drawn by the comfort of warmth and the hope for a bit of fresh bread. The hallways were quiet, save for the faint creak of old timber beneath her slippers. Then, a soft voice pierced the silence—high and cautious. “Is anyone there?”
Alexandra turned swiftly, her skirts swishing against her ankles. She recognized him at once—Charles, Nicholas’s son.
She softened and approached with a gentle smile. “Look at you, wee one. What brings ye wanderin’ the halls?”
Charles tilted his head, his voice a careful whisper. “Ye’re the lady that played with me earlier. Are ye me faither’s friend?”
Her heart tightened. There were a hundred truths she could’ve spoken—but none a child ought to hear. She crouched to his level and gave a kind nod. “Aye. I suppose I am.”
