Page 56 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
A surprised laugh escaped her, half-tears still clinging to her lashes. “Ye’d have to catch me first.”
Nicholas stepped even closer, so close she could feel the heat of him in the wind. “Aye,” he murmured. “And I would.”
“We should get ye inside to rest,” she said, brushing her skirt.
Nicholas nodded and offered his arm. She took it without hesitation, and they walked together, quiet but no longer at odds. But deep within her, the agony churned.
What if I never see him again?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"Nay banners, remember!" Nicholas shouted orders.
"Aye, cloaks only nay colors," Marcus added.
The courtyard was alive with quiet motion, the sound of hooves, leather, and murmured commands filling the cold night air. Torches lit the stone walls with a flickering glow, casting long shadows over the assembled men.
Nicholas stood near the center, issuing final orders to Marcus, his voice firm despite the anxiousness etched into his bones. "Every man should be armed to the teeth."
The sky was still dark, but a faint blue hinted at the coming dawn—just three hours away.
"I will order every man to strap a dirk in their boot," Marcus said.
As Marcus stepped away, Nicholas adjusted the strap across his chest. His breath fogged in the chill, and he pressed his lips into a hard line. This was not just an ambush—it could spark clan war, and he knew well how war liked to steal things from men, most of all their peace. He closed his eyes for just a moment, drawing in one last breath before the march.
Then he heard her voice—soft, gentle, and close. “Nicholas.”
He turned and saw Alexandra walking toward him through the torchlight, her hair loose beneath a cloak, and in her arms, little Charlie rested sleepily against her shoulder. The boy’s small arms clung around her neck, his eyelids heavy with dreams, unaware of what the night was preparing to take. Nicholas’s chest tightened, and he stepped forward, unable to speak for a moment.
“Da,” Charlie groggily murmured as Nicholas reached for him.
“Aye, lad. I’m here,” Nicholas said, lifting his son gently into his arms. Charlie stirred, blinking slowly, and laid his head against Nicholas’s chest.
“Ye goin’ away?” the boy asked, voice muffled.
“For a little while,” Nicholas said, swallowing hard. “But ye’re to be brave for me. Mind what yer nurse says. Help look after the castle. Yer in charge when I'm gone. Can ye do that?”
Charlie gave a tiny nod, his thumb pressing to his lips. Nicholas cupped the boy’s head and pressed a kiss to his soft curls, breathing in his scent one last time. “I’ll be thinkin’ of ye every hour, every step I take.”
Alexandra stepped forward, her arms already reaching. Nicholas handed Charlie back to her carefully, his hands lingering just a second too long.
Then his eyes met hers.
She held his gaze, her face pale in the torchlight, eyes glassy with tears she hadn’t let fall. “Ye’re brave for goin’,” she whispered.
“I ken,” he replied, voice rough with a teasing smirk.
“I still want ye to come back,” she said. “Charlie needs his faither.”
Nicholas searched her face, memorizing every line, every freckle, the way her mouth trembled just slightly. “And what about ye?” he asked, almost without meaning to.
She exhaled shakily. “Aye. I need ye too. More than I ever wanted to admit.”
His jaw clenched. He looked away before his resolve could break. “I’ll see ye again,” he said, turning toward his horse.
But as he mounted, the gates began to open with a groan of iron and timber, and something inside Nicholas shattered. His hand gripped the reins—then let them go. He swung down from the saddle and ran across the courtyard, boots thudding against stone.
Alexandra turned just as he reached her. He didn’t stop, didn’t think—he simply pulled her to him and kissed her, hard and desperate.
