Page 9 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
Nicholas watched her closely, his expression unreadable. “Ye might think yer brother innocent, but I believe ye simply daenae ken his true ways,” he said, his tone now tinged with frustration. “I’ve waited long enough to get back what’s mine, and I’ll nae let ye stand there denyin’ what ye ken to be true.”
He leaned closer, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her cheek. “Now, ye’ll tell me what ye ken, or I’ll make ye regret nae doin’ so.”
She watched as Nicholas moved closer to her, each step deliberate and measured, as if he were stalking his prey. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the room, and his gaze never left her, the intensity in his eyes sharpening with every inch he drew nearer.
Alexandra should’ve felt fear at his approach, but instead, her heart pounded in an entirely different way—unbidden, unwanted. She tried to push the strange pull she felt toward him aside, but it lingered, like an itch she couldn’t scratch, making her stomach twist in confusion.
What is wrong with me? This brute is dangerous. I should be afraid of this man, nae drawn to him.
After all, she was already promised to another to stop a war. But here she was, in the presence of Laird O’Donnell, tied to his every whim, with no clear way out.
She mentally scolded herself—she shouldn’t be fascinated by this brute, especially not after he’d abducted her and thrown her into a world of uncertainty.
Her thought was interrupted as Nicholas stopped just in front of her, his towering form casting a shadow over her seated figure.
He leaned in slightly, his breath warm on her face as he spoke in a voice low and dangerous. “Ye’ll tell me the truth, lass,” he said, his tone unyielding, the edge of a threat lacing his words. “If ye daenae, I’ll take ye to me dungeon, where ye’ll enjoy the company of rats—cold, dark, and alone.”
Alexandra’s eyes flashed with defiance, her chin lifting as she looked him squarely in the eye. “Go ahead, then,” she said, her voice calm but firm, despite the shiver of unease that danced along her spine. “Put me in yer dungeon, but me answer willnae change. I’m nae lyin’ to ye.”
She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath, but the intensity of the situation made her pulse race. She refused to let him see how rattled she really was; she wasn’t about to back down.
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Alexandra swore she saw a flicker of amusement in them. It was as if herresistance only made him more intrigued, more determined to break through her defenses.
“Ye think ye’re strong, don’t ye?” he mused, his lips curling into a sneer. “But ye’ll find that I’m a man who doesnae let go once I’ve got a hold of somethin’.”
Alexandra’s pulse quickened, and she felt an involuntary shiver run through her at the way he spoke. She tried to shake the image of him taking her right then and there from her mind, to focus on the anger that had fueled her so far.
“I’m nae afraid of ye, Robertson,” she said, her voice more steady now, though the rapid beat of her heart betrayed her. “Do yer worst. I’ll still nae tell ye anythin’ ye want to ken because I ken nothin’ of yer son.”
He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he straightened up, taking a step back as though contemplating his next move.
“Ye think ye’re clever, but ye’re nae the first to test me,” he said, his voice dark and low. “I’ve dealt with many who’ve tried to defy me, and they all eventually broke. Daenae think ye’re any different.”
Alexandra’s stomach clenched at his words, but she refused to show him the fear he wanted to see. She forced herself to meet his gaze without flinching, her body tense, but standing her ground.
“I’m nae like the others,” she shot back, her eyes narrowed, a spark of rebellion in her chest. “And ye’ll nae break me, nay matter how hard ye try.”
Nicholas took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest, his jaw tight with barely restrained frustration. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, as if weighing his options. Alexandra could feel the air around them thickening with tension, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crack. No matter what he did or said, she wouldn’t be swayed, even as her mind reeled with the danger of her situation.
CHAPTER SIX
“What is it?” Nicholas demanded, his voice low and dangerous, his patience already worn thin, when a knock echoed through the thick wooden door.
He turned toward it sharply, his expression hardening as he opened the door.
The guard hesitated at the threshold, shifting nervously before stepping back into the corridor, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and anxiety.
Nicholas followed him and closed the door behind him.
"What is it?" Nicholas asked.
“I believe ye’ve got the wrong lass,” the guard stammered, his voice trembling as he spoke.
Nicholas’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his gaze before his temper flared. “What do ye mean, the wrong lass?” he barked, taking a step closer to the guard, the air between them growing heavy with tension.
The guard swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he explained, “A message from Marcus. The maid says that they are of the Sinclair clan and that is the sister of Laird Sinclair, nae Laird McLaren. She’s the woman McLaren was to marry and that's why they were on a journey.”
Nicholas’s blood ran cold, the shock of the news settling like a weight in his chest. His mind raced as the pieces of the puzzle began to shift, but the anger in his gut flared brighter than any confusion.
