Page 42 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
He glanced at her as they moved, jaw tight. “Ye’ll nae walk to them alone. If I let ye go, it’s under guard. Do ye hear me?”
She didn’t answer, just kept walking with purpose in her step. She looked like a queen heading into battle, not a woman leaving her captor. But Nicholas knew—he was not just her captor anymore.
They reached the outer corridor leading to the gate towers. Nicholas paused, grabbing her wrist gently. “If Rankin dares lay a hand on ye, I’ll put him in the ground.”
“Then pray he doesnae need to,” she said, voice low. “I’m hopin’ to end this without a blade drawn.”
He swallowed hard, searching her face. “Do ye think he’ll listen to ye?”
“I daenae ken,” she said. “But I’ve nay choice, and neither do ye.”
Another boom echoed from beyond the gate, closer this time. Nicholas could hear the distant cries of men readying for battle. He looked up at the towers, then back at Alexandra.
The wind whipped around Nicholas as he and Alexandra climbed the stone steps to the battlements. From the height, the world opened below them—fields trembling with hooves, steel flashing in the sun, and banners snapping with McLaren’s black stag sigil.
Leo Rankin rode at the head, proud as a rooster, flanked by his guards. Alexandra stayed silent beside Nicholas, her eyes narrowed as she took in the approaching force.
Marcus strode up from the other side, his brows furrowed and hair wind-tossed. “There’s at least forty with him,” he said grimly. “All armed. They’re flyin’ their colors high, like they’ve nay shame.”
Nicholas folded his arms and stared down at the tide of men drawing nearer. “Aye. He wants us to see him comin’. Let him have his parade.” His voice was hard, clipped, every syllable sharp with restraint. “They’ll reach the gate soon enough.”
“What are yer orders?” Marcus asked, eyes never leaving the field.
“We follow the protocols for flyin’ the white banners of peace,” Nicholas said. “They stop outside the gates. Nay entry. If he wants parley, he’ll do it by the book or nae at all.”
Marcus gave a sharp nod and turned on his heel. “I’ll pass it along.” His boots rang on the stone as he hurried back toward the stairwell, already shouting to the men below.
Nicholas stepped forward and gripped the parapet, his eyes never leaving the black specks on the horizon. “Archers, on the towers!” he barked. “Keep bows down unless I give the word! Crossbows ready, but stay hidden!”
Men scrambled into position, lining the upper walls, each moving with swift discipline. The clang of iron echoed as guards checked weapons, secured arrows, and readied for what might come. Nicholas scanned the rows of heads, making sure eachwas where he should be. The rhythm of preparation steadied him, gave shape to the fury building in his chest.
“Riders, stand by the inner yard!” Nicholas called out. “Shieldmen, take the lower wall. We hold position and wait. Nay man fires without me command.”
Alexandra stayed beside him, her silence heavy. He spared her a glance but said nothing—his mind couldn’t stray now. Leo was almost at the gate. The clash they’d all been waiting for stood just minutes away.
A horn blew once—low and deep—from the fields beyond. Nicholas saw the McLaren riders slow, their horses circling until Leo himself came forward, reining in just within bow range. His banner still flew, white cloth raised, but Nicholas knew he wasn’t there to beg.
Nicholas raised a hand and motioned to the watchman. “Keep the bell ready,” he ordered. “If that lot crosses the line without signal, we raise the alarm.” He turned toward the captain on the other end.
Beneath them, guards moved like clockwork, each order passed from mouth to mouth.
From the edge of his vision, he saw Alexandra grip the stone. “Will ye speak with him?” she asked, voice low. “If he does ask?”
“Aye,” Nicholas muttered. “But I’ll nae grovel.” His eyes burned as he stared at Leo’s form in the distance. “He’ll hear what I’ve got to say. And he’ll hear it on me terms.”
Alexandra exhaled slowly but said no more. Her face was unreadable now, every line locked in composure. Nicholas didn’t know what she hoped would happen—but he knew what he would not allow. Leo Rankin would not take her from him.
A rider from Leo’s side moved forward, lifting a long white cloth on a wooden staff. It waved in the breeze, stark against the darker banners. Nicholas felt the shift in the air, tension crackling like lightning. It had begun.
CHAPTER TWENTY
"Keep calm," Alexandra said quietly.
"I will be as calm as is warranted," Nicholas growled under his breath.
The wind tugged at Alexandra’s cloak as she stood atop the battlements, eyes fixed on Leo on horseback below. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird in her chest, nervous for what was to come.
She didn’t want blood spilled because of her—not Nicholas, not Charlie, not anyone. The weight of it all pressed on her shoulders, heavy and cold.
