CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A lexandra wandered the stone corridors of Castle O’Donnell with no direction, her skirts whispering against the cold floor.
Servants passed her with lowered heads, their footsteps brisk, their voices hushed.
But she heard nothing—only the echo of her own anger.
Every turn of the castle felt lonelier now, every room colder without her dearest friend.
And Nicholas dared to have a merry supper?
Her footsteps slowed as her thoughts turned toward Nicholas' words, and a fresh wave of frustration flooded her.
Ye’re still me captive .
The gall of him—to speak so coldly and then… to kiss her like that. Her fists clenched at her sides as heat flushed her cheeks.
I should’ve slapped the heat from his cheek.
Instead, her knees had gone soft, her lips answering his like a woman possessed. She hated herself for enjoying it, hated the traitorous thrum it sent through her when she remembered the press of his mouth and the warmth of his touch.
“Fool,” she whispered under her breath, shaking her head. But no matter how she scolded herself, she couldn’t stop remembering how his hands had felt on her skin—or the fire he left behind.
She pushed open the door into the cool night air and into the gardens. She found a bench and sat down, trying to calm her overheated reaction to Nicholas.
Her throat tightened as the weight in her chest returned, heavy and sharp. Tears welled in her eyes and began to fall, one by one, sliding down her cheeks in silence.
She buried her face in her hands, letting the sorrow wash over her. The loss of Erica clung to her like fog—cold, damp, and impossible to shake. How was she to breathe without her dearest companion by her side? A sob escaped her lips just as the sound of small footsteps crunched softly nearby.
“Why are ye cryin’?” Charlie’s little voice broke through the haze, sweet and full of concern.
Alexandra quickly wiped her face, not wanting to frighten him, but he was already standing before her, his head tilted in curiosity.
“Does yer heart hurt?” he asked gently. She nodded, her voice trembling as she replied, “Aye, lad… it does. What are ye doing out here? Ye should be in the great hall.”
"Oh Mistress. I am so sorry," the nursemaid darted over. "I cannae keep up with the young master. He left his favorite toy in the garden earlier and we are fetchin’ it." She held up a carved warrior.
"That's quite all right. It is a nice night," Alexandra smiled.
Charlie blinked, then looked around the garden.
With determination, he reached down and yanked a small wildflower from the earth, roots and all, and held it out to her.
“Here,” he said proudly. “This’ll make ye feel better.
” Alexandra gave a watery laugh, touched by the gesture, and took the flower with trembling hands.
“Thank ye, sweet lad,” she whispered, her lips curling into a smile despite the ache. Charlie stepped forward and wrapped his small arms around her, hugging her with all the strength his little body could manage.
Her arms came around him slowly, and she held him close, her heart softening in ways she hadn’t expected. In that moment, she realized how much she’d grown attached to him.
He was Nicholas’s son, yes—but more than that, he was a light in this dark place. A bright, warm soul who reminded her that not everything had been lost.
"Come now, young master. Let's get back afore yer da be lookin' for ye," the nursemaid picked up Charlie and carried him away.
"A good night to ye," Alexandra said.
She sat alone again under the full moon, still clutching the small flower Charlie had given her.
"Open the gates!" a guard shouted.
Her heart leapt into her throat. The sharp, familiar creak of the portcullis chains rang out across the courtyard.
She sprang to her feet and ran across the lawn, skirts gathered in her fists, and hurried toward the walls. Climbing the inner steps two at a time, she reached the battlements just as the gate creaked open to reveal Marcus and a handful of scouts riding into the courtyard.
Her heart pounded as she scanned the men for any sign of Erica, but the group returned with only themselves and weary horses.
She ran down to the courtyard only to find that Marcus had already gone to report to Nicholas. Her feet moved quickly, taking her into the great hall.
"Where's Nicholas?" she asked a guard.
"Gone to his study with Marcus," the guard responded.
She headed toward Nicholas’s study as quickly as she could. She stopped in the corridor, drawn by the low murmur of voices spilling from the slightly ajar door.
“What did ye find?” Nicholas’s voice was low, firm, and tense with expectation.
“They’ve nae gone back to McLaren castle,” Marcus replied, the sound of boots shifting on stone between his words.
“We tracked them clear to the border of our own clan lands. They’ve made camp nae far from the old crofter’s glen.
Hidden from the main road, but we saw the fires last night. They’re watchin’, waitin’.”
“Exactly as I thought,” Nicholas muttered. “Leo’s nae finished. He’s bidin’ his time, likely waitin’ on reinforcements.”
“Aye,” Marcus agreed grimly. “What shall we do? Sit back and let them come knockin’ at the gates?”
“Nay,” Nicholas said darkly. “This is a chance. If Leo’s sent word to McLaren castle, he’ll expect backup—but they’ll be on the move, vulnerable.
If we strike before they arrive, we might just catch him on his heels.
We raid them with an ambush before they can regroup and bring war to our gates. This way we keep our people safe."
Alexandra couldn’t listen anymore.
She pushed the door open, stepping into the firelit study with eyes wide and voice trembling.
“Please—please, Nicholas—I’m beggin’ ye,” she said, her hands clutching her skirts tightly. “Ye must save her. I’ll do anythin’—anythin’ ye ask. Just… just bring Erica back to me.”
She watched as Nicholas seemed startled at first by her sudden entrance. Then his jaw tensed as his gaze landed on her tear-stained face. “Lass,” he said gently, “ye shouldnae be listenin’ to war talk.”
“She’s me friend,” Alexandra said, taking a shaky step forward. “She’s the only one I’ve had these many years. She followed me here, and now she’s gone, taken by a cruel man, and ye expect me to sit idly while plans are made around me?”
Marcus glanced at Nicholas but said nothing, quietly stepping aside to give them space.
“I cannae make promises I cannae keep,” Nicholas said, his voice low but steady.
“Then I’ll go,” she interrupted. “I’ll go to him meself if that’s what it takes.”
“The hell ye will,” Nicholas snapped, stepping toward her. “Ye step one foot out those gates and I’ll have every man chase ye down and drag ye back, do ye hear me?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks as her lip trembled, but her spine stayed straight. “Then what?” she whispered. “Are we to do nothin’? Are we to feast and drink and plan skirmishes while she wastes away in that bastard’s hands?”
“Nay, I’m doin’ what I must,” he growled. “To protect this land and me people.”
"Then ye will bring her back? Promise?" she asked.
"I cannae promise that lass because… because we daenae ken if she is still alive," he said solemnly.
Alexandra felt the words hit her like a stone. She put her hands on the desk to steady herself. She felt Nicholas arms hold her and sit her in a chair.
"Marcus, gather our men. Stop them from going deeper into drink and to bed they go. Ye too. Get some rest. We leave three hours before the sun rises. We shall ambush Leo and his men as they sleep," Nicholas ordered.
"Aye, right away," Marcus said as he turned and left.
Alexandra looked at Nicholas as she trembled with fear over the fate of her friend.
“Come with me,” he said, his voice rough but not unkind.
She hesitated, then followed him through the stone corridor, her boots tapping softly against the floor.
The tension between them did not ease as they descended the winding stairs, passing torchlit walls and ancient tapestries.
At the bottom, he led her through the side door of the keep into the courtyard where the evening had begun to settle, casting long shadows over the flagstones.
A breeze stirred her skirts as she followed him silently toward the old chapel behind the orchard.
They entered. She watched as he paced toward the altar, hands behind his back, his movements taut and restless. Alexandra lingered near the entrance, her heart still racing, not sure what she expected him to say now.
“Ye think I daenae care?” he said finally, without looking at her. “But I do. I care more than I should about all of this, me clan, me son, Erica's safety, and yers.”
Her lips parted, but she had no words. The ache in her chest only deepened.
“Just help me get her back. She’s nae just a servant, Nicholas—she’s like a sister. I hope that she still breathes. I cannae live with meself if I am the cause of her death."
He turned to face her now, the fading light catching the edge of his jaw and the fire in his eyes.
“And what if I am caught?” he asked, stepping closer. “I need ye to prepare for that possibility. We daenae ken what we ride into.”
Alexandra gasped and her heart sank, "Daenae say that. Ye will come back."
"Promise me ye will go to yer brother if I daenae return. Daenae go to Leo. I will leave orders that guards will take ye there secretly," he said.
She sighed. "But what if?—"
Nicholas cursed under his breath and stepped back, dragging a hand through his hair. “Ye drive me mad, lass. Just promise!"
“I promise,” she said, eyes glinting with emotion.
He sat down on a bench. "When Charlie was taken… the rage inside me nearly made me blind.”
She stepped closer, the mention of his son softening her anger. “I ken what grief can do,” she said. “I carry mine like a weight around me neck for me kin folk.”
Nicholas looked up at her then, his expression unreadable. “I daenae want to feel that weight again, Alexandra. Nae for ye.”
When he moved closer again, her breath caught. “I meant what I said, lass. Ye belong here under me protection. But if ye ever say yer going to put yerself in danger by going after Leo, I swear I’ll lock ye in the highest bloody tower I’ve got.”
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?