Page 31 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
The words struck him harder than he expected. He turned from her, hiding the expression that flickered across his face. He felt like a fool, a man split in two. Wanting to claim her, yet knowing he couldn’t.
She watched him in the silence that followed, the firelight softening his scowl. “Ye speak of Leo like ye hate him,” she said finally. “But ye’ve never asked what I want.”
Nicholas’s eyes met hers again, and this time, there was something more than persistence in them—something tired, something real.
“To hell with Leo Rankin,” Nicholas snarled, his voice low and rough. “Marry me instead."
He heard Alexandra gasp, eyes wide as the firelight danced across her face.
“Ye’re mad,” she whispered, barely above a breath. He watched her hands clutch the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
"I may be mad but I speak true. Marry me, Alexandra," he said.
"I cannae do that. Me clan will be punished," she said.
"I’ll deal with yer brother, and if Leo’s daft enough to bring war, I’ll stand with the Sinclairs and crush him meself.” He slammed his cup down, mead sloshing over the rim, and fixed her with a look that dared her to argue.
“Nicholas, me mind’s made. I willnae risk war.” Her voice trembled, not with fear but with conviction, and it lit a fire beneath his skin.
“It’s nae that I doubt Caelan could win,” she went on, softer now, “but I fear what would be lost in the fight—lives, homes, kin. Even victory leaves wounds behind.” Her brow creased, and she looked at him with tired, aching eyes. “Ye men are always so quick to draw steel, never thinkin’ of what peace might yet be had.”
Nicholas stepped forward, closing the space between them. The tension crackled in the air, thick and hungry. He stopped only inches away, his breath brushing her cheek, his gaze boring into hers.
“And givin’ yerself to Leo Rankin? Is that peace?”
She faltered, lips parting, breath catching in her throat. “It’s a trade,” she whispered, eyes flicking to his mouth, then back to his. “I might nae like it, but I’m only one life. A war could take many.”
He watched her, every twitch of her lips, the way her chest rose with each shallow breath. Her scent was honey and fire, maddening in its sweetness.
“One life?” he growled, voice rasping. “Ye speak as if ye mean nothin’, as if yer worth can be measured against a battlefield.”
She didn’t answer, only looked away, but her body trembled. Nicholas leaned in further, his mouth barely brushing her ear.
“Leo Rankin’s nay man. He’s a monster. Ye think he’ll stop with takin’ yer hand? He’ll take yer pride, yer joy, piece by piece until ye cannae remember who ye were.”
Alexandra turned her face toward his, her breath mingling with his own. He saw defiance still in her eyes, but it battled with something softer, something uncertain. “Ye daenae ken what he’ll do,” she said.
“Aye, I do,” he snapped, his voice low. “I’ve seen what he’s left behind—burned farms, broken folk. He finds joy in the sufferin’ of others.”
Her lip trembled, and still she held her ground, though he saw the weight she carried. Nicholas’s hand lifted, then hovered at her waist, not quite touching, aching with restraint. “Ye’re nae meant for him, lass.” His voice dropped even lower, rough with desire and fury. “And if I must tear down half of Scotland to stop this, I will.”
Alexandra closed her eyes, and for a moment, he thought she’d lean into him.
Instead, she turned her face and stepped back with a shaking breath. “It’s nae yer war, Nicholas. And it’s nae yer choice to make.” But her voice had lost its fire, and her cheeks burned with heat.
He let her go, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides. “Then damn us both,” he muttered. “But I’ll nae stand by and watch ye march yerself into a nightmare dressed as duty. And has itcrossed yer mind that Leo will go to war with yer brother even after ye marry him?"
"What?" she said loudly.
"Aye, ye havenae thought of it, have ye? Leo cannae be trusted. He's nae a man of his word. He will marry ye, make ye his, break ye and then find a reason to declare war on yer clan nevertheless," he said. "Did ye nae think of this?"
And though she didn’t answer, he saw it—the fear in her eyes, not of him, but of the truth he’d spoken.
Nicholas scowled and looked away, jaw tight. Alexandra had fallen quiet again, but the tension still burned between them like embers refusing to die out.
After a long pause, she sighed, a soft, weary sound that tugged at something deep in him. “I hate all of this,” she muttered, not looking at him. “Every bit of it.”
He frowned, watching the way her shoulders slumped. “What do ye mean?” he asked, voice low. Her eyes met his briefly before drifting toward the hearth.
