CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
N icholas stood rooted as the gates shut with a heavy thud, sealing the devil out. His fists were still clenched, knuckles white, rage burning hot in his veins. He could still see Leo’s smirk, that smug gleam in his eye as he walked away with Erica.
If it werenae for the girl’s sacrifice…I would’ve torn the man apart with me bare hands if he touched Alexandra .
He turned, breath ragged, only to see Alexandra collapse to her knees on the cold stone. A raw wail tore from her throat, and it struck him deeper than any blade.
She bent over herself, trembling, her hands pressed to her face as if trying to block out what just happened. Nicholas dropped beside her without thinking, his arms reaching around her shaking form.
“Lass, it’s over now,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Ye’re safe. He’s gone.” But the words felt empty, meaningless, when the sound of her weeping filled the courtyard.
She shook her head, curls tumbling loose from her braid, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“He’s taken her, Nicholas,” she cried. “He’s taken her… and I let her go.” Her voice cracked like glass, and her body heaved with sobs.
Nicholas tightened his hold on her, drawing her close to his chest. He’d never seen her like this—so undone, so broken.
“By her own admission, she is Leo’s sister. It was her choice to reveal it,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple. “She did it for ye. Because she loves ye.”
Alexandra clutched at his tunic, fingers curling tight in the fabric.
“I should’ve stopped her—I should’ve gone instead!” she gasped. “She’s nay match for him. He’ll ruin her. Break her. She's too delicate.” Her words came out in choking bursts.
He shook his head fiercely. “Ye listen to me. That man’s a blackhearted fiend, aye—but Erica’s stronger than she looks. She fooled the likes of him for years. She’s nae broken yet.” But even as he said it, his chest twisted with doubt.
He’d nearly lost Alexandra—nearly watched her ride away into the hands of a man who made his blood boil with hate.
The thought of Leo touching her, of taking her as his bride, made Nicholas’s vision blur with fury.
He would’ve stormed the gates, sword drawn, no matter the cost. And still, he’d been helpless—standing there as she almost chose sacrifice over love.
She let out another cry and buried her face against him.
“She saved me,” she whispered. “Erica saved me… but who’ll save her?” Her voice trailed off into a whisper, as though saying it aloud made it too real.
Nicholas cradled her like something precious and fragile. His heart thundered with grief and fury both, but he knew now was not the time for battle cries. “It'll be all right, Alexandra. I swear it on me name,” he said, low and firm.
But her sobs did not ease, and her body kept trembling like a leaf in a storm. He guided her gently to sit against the inner wall, sheltering her from the view of the guards above. The courtyard had quieted, the threat gone, but sorrow had taken its place.
Nicholas brushed a strand of hair from her face and kissed her brow. “Ye’re safe with me. I’ll nae let any harm come to ye. Nae now, nae ever.” But there was no victory in his voice—only aching resolve.
She lifted her eyes to him, red-rimmed and shining. “We cannae just leave her there, Nicholas. He’s cruel. He’ll hurt her.” Her voice shook, but her gaze had begun to steel again.
“Aye,” he said softly. “But be smart. We’ll plan. We’ll nae let her sacrifice be in vain.” His grip on her hand tightened with purpose.
Even as the wind whistled over the walls, carrying with it the bitter scent of betrayal, Nicholas held Alexandra close. His anger had not cooled—it burned steadily beneath his skin. But there was more than fury in him now.
Alexandra leaned into him, worn and silent, and he felt the trust she placed in him settle like weight on his shoulders. He could carry it. He must. For her… and for the woman who had faced a monster to save them both.
Nicholas held Alexandra, his arm steady around her as her sobs quieted into soft, broken breaths. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and though the storm within her had not passed, he could feel her drawing strength from his presence.
The courtyard was still now, but a tension lingered in the air—like the hush before thunder. The guards had returned to their posts, yet every man seemed to know something sacred had just been lost.
“She lied tae me all these years,” Alexandra said at last, her voice barely a whisper. “We lived under the same roof, and I never kent.” Her hand trembled against his chest as she wiped at her tear-stained face. “She gave up her name, her life, to stay hidden… all because of him.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened as he looked toward the closed gate. “Aye. And now she’s walked into the wolf’s den.” His voice was low, every word heavy with the need for justice. “But she did it with her head held high. That takes a kind of courage most folk never find.”
Alexandra turned her face up to him, her eyes swollen but full of fire. “We’ll find her, won’t we?” she asked, the barest edge of hope clinging to her words. “We’ll nae leave her to that monster.”
He met her gaze without hesitation. “I swear it, Alexandra. I’ll tear his world down stone by stone if I must, but I’ll nae let him keep her.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, grounding her again. “For Erica… and for ye.”
The wind picked up again, cold and sharp. But Alexandra leaned into Nicholas, her heart battered but unbroken. They had lost something this day—but not each other.
Nicholas turned to Marcus, his trusted man-at-arms. The rage in his eyes had not cooled since Erica had vanished with the villain. Every muscle in his body was clenched with fury and the ache of helplessness that rocked Alexandra.
“Track him,” Nicholas growled. “I want eyes on Leo and his men the whole way. I daenae trust that blackhearted swine tae leave peaceably.”
Marcus nodded once. “Aye, Laird. I’ll see to it meself. I ken the kind of man he is—he’ll nae leave without schemin’.”
Nicholas gave him a hard look. “Stay out of sight. I daenae want Leo noticin’ we’re watchin’ him. If he suspects we’re on his heels, he may do somethin’ foolish.”
Marcus turned and began barking orders to the nearest guards. “Kellan, Brodie, Ruaridh—arm yerselves but keep light on yer feet. Nay colors. I want silence and caution, understood?”
Nicholas watched with narrowed eyes, absorbing every detail with the scrutiny of a man who knew one mistake could cost lives.
The men scattered with haste, the air buzzing with a sense of urgency.
Horses were brought from the stables, saddles flung over backs, straps tugged and cinched tight.
The clang of blades being sheathed and packs being thrown over shoulders echoed off the stone walls.
He addressed Marcus, giving more orders. “Make sure they stay off the main roads,” Nicholas said, his voice low but firm. “Have them move through the forest’s edge, keep their distance but never lose sight.”
“Aye,” Marcus replied, grabbing the reins of his own horse to position it for mounting as a stableboy ran up with the bridle. “We’ll follow them as ghosts.”
Nicholas stepped forward and put a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Bring me a good report, Marcus. I’ll nae rest until I ken what Leo’s plannin’—or where he means tae strike.”
With a final nod, Marcus swung into the saddle, his men falling in behind him like shadows. Nicholas stood there, heart pounding, and watched them disappear through the side gate that led toward a back road, swallowed by the mist curling off the hills.
Nicholas steadied Alexandra as they crossed the courtyard, her steps weak and stumbling with grief.
Her hand clung to his sleeve like a lifeline, her face pale and streaked with tears.
He held her close, shielding her from the curious eyes of the few guards still lingering near the gates.
When they entered the castle’s dim corridor, she finally found her voice.
“Why is Marcus followin’ Leo?” she asked, her voice raw from sobbing.
Nicholas didn’t hesitate. “’Tis always wise to stay one step ahead of the enemy,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “Especially one as slippery as Rankin.”
He led her into the great hall and gently guided her to a chair by the long oak table.
She sat down heavily, her shoulders shaking, her fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve.
Her sobs came harder now, as if they’d been waiting for a safe place to fall.
Nicholas turned from her and strode toward the rows of casks in the corner.
He poured a generous mug of whiskey, his jaw clenched as he listened to her quiet cries behind him.
The burn of fury toward Leo Rankin simmered beneath his skin.
He turned back and placed the mug before her without a word, his hand lingering near hers.
She reached for it with trembling fingers and took a deep swallow.
“What’s to be done now?” she asked hoarsely, lifting her eyes to meet his.
Nicholas sat across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “We daenae act without thinkin’,” he said. “Leo’s a snake, and snakes strike when ye step too close. I’ll nαε risk walkin’ into a trap.”
“But Erica—” Alexandra’s voice cracked as she pressed the mug to her lips again. “She’s been taken. I cannae just sit here while she’s in his clutches.”
Nicholas’s gaze softened, though a storm brewed in his eyes. “I ken what she means to ye, lass. But ye cannae charge headfirst into fire without a plan. I need to hear what Marcus learns first.”
She shook her head, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve gone instead.”
Nicholas reached across the table and caught her hand, his grip gentle but grounding. “Nay, ye shouldnae have. She made her choice, and I believe she did it to protect ye.” His voice lowered. “And I’m glad ye stayed.”
Alexandra stared at him, her lips trembling as more tears spilled over. “She’s me closest friend, Nicholas. She’s been with me a long time. I dαεnae ken how to breathe without her beside me. She's fragile."
“I ken,” he said quietly, brushing his thumb across her knuckles.
“And we’ll see what we can do to get her back.
But I’ll nαε have ye sacrifice yerself in the process.
It is obvious to me that Erica has her own family secrets she wants to deal with, and she chose now to do it.
Let her figure out her brother's injustices to her and her maither and faither.
Let her have that. I ken she's stronger than ye give her credit for. "
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting long shadows on the stone walls. Nicholas sat back, watching her with a measured look. He could see the weight on her shoulders and the war in her heart. But he also saw her strength.
“When Marcus returns,” he said, “we’ll ken more of what's to be done. Until then, we watch, we wait, and we prepare.”
Nicholas poured her another measure of whiskey and nudged it toward her hand.
“Here, drink, lass. Let it ease yer sorrow, if only for a wee while.”
His heart ached as he watched Alexandra take it without a word. Her eyes, red and swollen, stared into the fire as silent tears slid down her cheeks.
After finishing the mug, her head drooped to the side, resting on her folded arms atop the table. Her breath came slow and heavy, sleep stealing over her like a shroud.
Nicholas watched her for a long moment, chest tight with things he couldn’t say aloud. The firelight flickered across her hair, casting it in soft waves over her shoulder like a sleeping angel.
He rose and walked to her side, bending low to lift her into his arms. She was light against him, her breath warm on his neck as he carried her through the quiet corridors. He pushed open the door to her chamber with his foot and stepped inside.
Laying her gently upon the bed, he brushed a curl from her face. For a moment, he stood there, unmoving, gazing down at her fragile form.
Och, what a fool I am to care so much for a stolen spoil to use as leverage. But ye have turned out to be so much more than that, haven't ye, lass?
It wounded him more than steel ever could to see her broken in sorrow for someone she loved.
She shifted in her sleep, murmuring softly, the weight of the day still pressing down on her even in slumber. He couldn’t leave her like that, still wrapped in the stiff, cold folds of her gown. With a steady breath, he moved to her side, kneeling carefully so he didn’t startle her.
His fingers worked gently at the laces of her bodice, slow and respectful, careful not to disturb her rest. She stirred only slightly as he loosened the ties, his touch as light as the breeze.
Once her dress had slackened, he eased it down over her shoulders, inch by inch, until he could slide it free.
He kept his eyes focused on the task, not lingering, his jaw tight with restraint as he left her in the soft linen of her chemise.
Setting the dress neatly on the nearby chair by the hearth, he turned back and pulled the woolen blanket over her, tucking it beneath her arms. She looked so small in that moment, her face turned slightly toward him, her lips parted in sleep.
He stood there a while longer, hand resting briefly on the bedpost, as if letting go of it might mean letting go of her.
His heart was heavy with all the things he hadn’t said—his guilt, his longing, and the strange, growing fear that he might lose her again.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his heart twisting with the ache of what he couldn’t protect her from.
“Sleep well, lass,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ll nae let any harm come to ye again.”