Page 27 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
“And yet ye cannae stay away,” she whispered, her lips trembling.
Nicholas stared at her, breath ragged, her nearness setting his nerves alight. His hands itched to grab her waist, pull her close, and kiss her senseless—but he clenched them into fists instead. She was too bright, too pure, and he was already soaked in shadows. He stepped back, the space between them a necessary torment.
“I keep me distance for the lad’s sake,” he said roughly, voice like gravel. “I’m nae fit to be a faither, and I’m worse company for anyone kind.” His gaze flicked over her face, lingering at her lips, and he forced himself to look away. “He’s already lost too much—I willnae poison what’s left of his world.”
Alexandra’s eyes softened, but her jaw stayed set. “He doesnae need perfection, Nicholas. He needs ye. A flesh and blood faither, nae a ghost hauntin’ the halls.”
Nicholas scoffed and paced to the window, arms crossed tightly. “Ye think I daenae ken that? Every time I see his face, I see hers.Annabeth.” His voice broke slightly. “He lost his maither, and I cannae put me child through that again.”
The silence that followed wrapped thick around them, broken only by the fire’s low crackle. Alexandra walked closer, her voice gentler now. “I lost mine too—both of me parents. I miss them. Death took them when I was just a lass. There’s nae a day goes by I daenae ache to see their faces again.”
Nicholas’s eyes flicked to her, something shifting in their depths. “Then ye ken what pain is.” He turned fully to her, arms falling to his sides. “But the difference is—I daenae want it again.”
She stepped into his space again, close enough that he could smell the faint lavender in her hair. “That’s fear speakin’, nae sense. Love doesnae kill, Nicholas—grief does.”
Her hand nearly touched his arm before she let it fall. “And if ye keep hidin’ from him, ye’ll give Charles another grave to mourn.”
His eyes flared, something wild flashing through them. “Ye think I daenae feel it? I wake every day expectin’ him to vanish. To die.” He stepped closer again, nearly chest to chest. “I’m tryin’ to protect him. And maybe… maybe I’m tryin’ to protect ye too from this cursed life.”
Alexandra blinked up at him, breath catching. “Protect me?” she echoed, voice nearly a whisper. “From what?”
He let out a bitter laugh, deep and broken. “From me, lass. I’m nay hero—I’m wrath and ruin in flesh.” His eyes dropped to her lips again, then to her eyes. “Ye stand there lookin’ like spring, and I… I am the winter that’ll tear it all down.”
She didn’t flinch. “Then maybe the winter needs a bit o’ spring.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “And maybe ye need to stop thinkin’ ye’re cursed and start rememberin’ ye’re still alive.”
Alexandra’s voice cracked. “Do ye nae see what a gift that is? A bairn who loves his faither despite the silence.”
His gaze lifted slowly, pain etched deep in every line of his face. “But God help me, I daenae want him to suffer.”
Alexandra stepped closer, placing her other hand against his chest. “Then daenae let him.” Her voice was a balm and a challenge all at once.
He stared down at her, his breath warm between them, his body rigid with restraint. “Ye’re a damn stubborn woman,” he muttered. “Ye should hate me, and instead here ye are—makin’ me want things I’ve nay right wantin’.” His hand lifted slowly, hovering by her cheek.
She leaned into his touch, eyes soft. “Then want it, Nicholas. Want it with yer whole heart.” Her voice was a whisper against the crackle of the fire. “Or ye’ll spend the rest of yer life watchin’ everythin’ good pass ye by.”
Nicholas narrowed his eyes as Alexandra’s voice softened yet held firm. “Ye ought to spend time with yer son,” she said. “Nae for show, but because he needs ye, Nicholas.”
He crossed his arms, jaw tight, and shook his head. “He has a nurse. He’s nae starvin’ for attention, and when the time comes, he’ll be trained as he should.”
Alexandra’s brow furrowed, lips thinning with disapproval. “He’s nae a soldier, he’s a wee bairn,” she snapped. “He needs more than tutors and structure—he needs a faither who cares.”
Nicholas scoffed under his breath, glancing toward the fire. “Feelings make men weak,” he muttered. “I’ll nae raise him soft.”
“Ye’ll raise him lonely,” she countered, stepping closer. Her eyes locked with his, fierce and unrelenting. “And one day, ye’ll wonder why he stopped lookin’ at ye with hope.” She reached for his arm, her grip unexpectedly firm. “In fact, ye’re comin’ with me now.”
Nicholas blinked, startled by her boldness. “Now?” he said sharply, resisting the pull. “Where in God’s name are we goin’?” Alexandra didn’t answer right away, but only turned with purpose.
“The nursery,” she said simply. “Where else would yer son be?” He frowned, a protest on his tongue, but it didn’t leave his mouth. Her hand stayed wrapped around his forearm like she belonged there.
He could’ve pulled back. One sharp word, one cold glare, and she’d have let go—but he didn’t. Her fingers were warm, her stride confident, and part of him found it easier to follow than fight. Something about her command unsettled him, and yet… he liked it.
As they stepped into the hall, Nicholas glanced at the back of her head, watching the way her hair shifted with every step.
She's maddening. Reckless. Impossible. And somehow, she makes me feel like less of a ghost.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Alexandra’s fingers tightened on Nicholas’s arm as she marched him down the corridor. Her heart thudded wildly—not with nerves, but a wicked ache she refused to name. There was something about the man’s dark eyes, that brooding silence and storm-wrapped soul, that drove her mad with thirst. And yet, he was a brute, stubborn as a mule and twice as rude, which made her want to slap him half the time.
