Page 59 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion
Leo’s body stilled.
The fight was over.
Around them, the camp had quieted. The McLaren men who still stood threw down their weapons. Others groaned on the ground, injured. Marcus appeared from the shadows, sword still drawn.
Nicholas turned to him, breath heaving. “Cut her free.”
Marcus didn’t hesitate. He strode to the wagon and cut the ropes binding Erica. She fell into his arms, eyes wide with relief, and wrapped her arms tight around his neck.
“Thank ye,” she whispered, tears streaking her cheeks.
Nicholas watched them, then turned to see one of his men holding Councilman James at swordpoint. He raised his hand. “Stand down.”
The warrior obeyed at once. Nicholas walked to James, his face dark with sweat and soot. “Is it true? What ye told her? About her bein’ the rightful Lady?”
James nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Nicholas’s. “Aye. Her parents signed a contract. Leo never knew of it—it was hidden. They meant for Erica to wed a southern ally and rule in peace.”
Nicholas studied the man’s face, then looked at Erica. She stood behind Marcus, bruised and trembling, but proud. “We thought her dead,” James continued softly. “But now that she’s here before me…”
Nicholas bowed his head to Erica. “Lady McLaren,” he said, his voice strong.
Erica’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She stepped forward, chin lifted high despite the dirt and blood. Nicholas turned and called out to the remaining McLaren warriors.
“McLaren men,” he said, raising his voice. “Yer lives will be spared. I’ve nay quarrel with ye—only with Leo Rankin. The injured will receive care.”
Silence.
Nicholas took a breath. “Now that Leo is gone, I have nay fight with ye… if ye’ll take an oath to yer rightful Lady—Erica Rankin.”
There was a beat of stillness. Then one man fell to his knee. Another followed. Soon, every unarmed McLaren warrior knelt in the dirt, heads bowed in loyalty.
Nicholas turned and watched as Erica stepped forward. She stood taller than he’d ever seen her, a quiet strength rising in her gaze. The moment was hers now.
"Ken that I will rule better than me brother ever could. Yer families will see peace and have their bellies full, and their harvests blessed. I aim to be a fair and just ruler of McLaren clan, as me parents wished me to be. It was their will that I rule and that wish is now fulfilled," she shouted.
And peace, perhaps, had finally begun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"Please, please return to me," Alexandra whispered.
She paced the length of the stone wall, her hands wringing at her sides. It was sunset, yet sleep hadn’t touched her eyes since Nicholas rode out earlier that morning. Each breath felt heavy, her heart a constant hammer in her chest. She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, praying for any sign of movement.
Then—shouts.
“The Laird! The Laird returns!” The guards at the gate cried out, voices echoing across the courtyard.
Alexandra’s breath caught in her throat. She darted to the edge of the parapet and looked beyond to the distant hills.
There they were, cresting over one hill onto the meadow.
A dark line of riders approached, weary but upright, horses moving with purpose. Alexandra gripped the stone ledge, eyes scanning each figure, heart pounding against her ribs.
Is Erica among them? Is Nicholas alive, unhurt?
She didn’t dare exhale until the gates creaked open and the hoard thundered into the courtyard.
Nicholas dismounted swiftly, dirt-smeared and bloodied but standing strong. His eyes found hers instantly, and Alexandra didn’t think—she ran to him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders as he caught her in a firm embrace, and his lips crashed against hers without hesitation.
