CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
" W hat say ye, brother?" Alexandra asked her brother in a quiet whisper.
"A fine feast. A fine clan," he replied.
"I'm glad to hear it," she said.
The great hall was bursting with laughter, torchlight dancing off the stone walls, and the long tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, warm bread, wheels of cheese, and overflowing flagons of mead.
Minstrels played lively tunes from the corner, the high, sweet whistle of a pipe lifting over the deep strum of a lute.
Children darted between benches, sneaking sugared figs and pastries while old men clapped hands in time to the music. The fire roared in the hearth, casting a golden hue over smiling faces and full bellies.
Alexandra sat at the head table, her heart light for the first time in many moons.
To her right, Nicholas sipped from his cup, his posture relaxed, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
To her left sat Caelan, his demeanor calmer now, softened further by the presence of his wife Rosaline beside him.
Alexandra stole a glance at her brother and found, to her immense relief, no trace of resentment in his eyes—only acceptance.
She turned her gaze toward Nicholas, who looked back at her with warmth and unwavering steadiness.
“I’ve never been happier in all me life,” he murmured, leaning just close enough for her to hear.
She smiled, cheeks warm, as his hand brushed against hers under the table. In that moment, the noise of the hall faded, and all that existed was the bond between them.
Suddenly, Nicholas stood. The bench scraped against the floor as he rose, and the hall gradually quieted as eyes turned toward him. He lifted his goblet, his voice clear and commanding as he addressed the gathering. Even the children stilled, sensing the importance of the moment.
“Good kin, hear me,” he began, his voice rich and strong. “We’ve endured hardship, bloodshed, and division—but we’ve come through stronger, together. And now, I stand before ye to tell ye that Lady Alexandra Sinclair has agreed to become me wife.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, quickly rising to gasps and then cheers.
Nicholas raised his hand to calm the excitement, his expression proud and sincere.
“This union does more than bind two hearts—it binds two clans.
O'Donnell and Sinclair, side by side. A future forged in peace, nae in war. With this union, we grow stronger, wiser, and more united than we’ve ever been.
Our honored guests, Laird Sinclair and his wife are now our kin. Stand if ye will."
Caelan stood with his wife Rosaline at his side and nodded at the cheers that rang out in the hall.
"It's an honor. Ye can count on the Sinclair clan to come to yer aid," Caelan said.
"And the O'Donnell to come to yers," Nicholas added. He nodded at Caelan, who raised his goblet in cheers, then took his seat.
Nicholas turned slightly and offered his hand to Alexandra, his eyes never leaving hers.
“I swear before ye all, I will continue to do me duty as yer Laird, protect our clan, and honor the bond we build this day and every day after.”
A roar of applause erupted through the hall as goblets were raised and feet stomped against the stone floor. Alexandra’s eyes welled with tears as she grasped Nicholas’s hand and stood beside him, smiling at the sea of faces that now felt like home.
The players struck a chord, and music filled the hall. The gathered continued to eat and be merry.
A few moments later, Alexandra lifted her goblet and clinked it gently against Rosaline’s, the music from the hall fading slightly as they stood near one of the side alcoves, half-hidden by a thick velvet curtain.
"To peace," Alexandra said with a smile, her cheeks still warm from laughter and wine.
Rosaline grinned and took a sip. "And to love," she added. "Ye've found yerself a good man, Alexandra. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at ye—he’d fight the whole of the Highlands for ye if he had to."
Alexandra laughed softly, a tender sound that spoke of truth. "He’s the best of men, Rosaline. Fierce, loyal, and yet gentle when it matters most. I dinnae ken how I got so lucky."
Rosaline leaned her shoulder against the stone wall, her expression softening. "Ye deserve happiness, lass. After all that happened."
"Aye, I do," Alexandra said, her voice steady. "With Nicholas, I feel… safe. Nay pretendin’. Nay bargains. Just… me, as I am."
Rosaline’s eyes glinted with warmth. "That’s how ye ken it’s real. And Charles—he’s taken to ye like ye were always meant to be his maither."
At that, Alexandra’s heart swelled. "I love that boy more than I thought I could. When he calls me 'ma,' I feel it in me bones."
Rosaline reached out and squeezed her hand gently. "Then ye’re already a family, with or without the vows. But I’ll admit—I cannae wait to see ye in weddin’ clothes."
Alexandra chuckled. "Aye, I have yet to think of such a thing. Me thoughts were on me brother and his stubborness."
Rosaline smirked and lifted her goblet once more. "To stubborn men, wild hearts, and happy endings."
"To all of it," Alexandra agreed, her heart full.
The torches lining the corridor flickered low as Alexandra and Nicholas slipped quietly from the great hall.
The sounds of laughter and music still echoed faintly behind them, but here in the stone passage, it was just the two of them and the quiet rhythm of their steps.
Nicholas reached for her hand and laced his fingers with hers, the warmth of his palm grounding her heart that still beat with celebration.
She glanced up at him, and his smirk curved as if he’d caught her staring.
“Well now,” he said lowly, tugging her close as they reached his chamber door. “Seems the beast of O’Donnell has captured yer heart after all.”
Alexandra’s lips quirked. “Aye. And I’ve nay plans of breakin’ free from his grip.”
Nicholas chuckled as he pushed open the door and guided her inside.
The fire was already lit, casting a soft golden glow over the room, and the scent of cedar smoke hung warmly in the air.
Alexandra stepped in, her fingers sliding from his as she walked toward the hearth, turning slowly to face him.
He closed the door behind them, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Ye’ve ruined me, lass,” he said, his voice husky and sincere. “From the moment I saw ye.”
She tilted her head. “And yet here ye stand. Nae ruined, but standin’ tall.”
“Barely,” he murmured, stepping close enough for their breath to mingle. “Only because ye’ve stolen all sense from me.”
She reached up, her hands slipping along his jaw. “Then I suppose we’re even. I cannae think straight when I’m near ye.”
Their lips met in a kiss that was neither rushed nor timid—full of the heat and longing that had simmered between them for too long. Nicholas pulled her closer, his hands spreading along her back, drawing her against the breadth of his chest.
Alexandra sighed into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as he deepened it. The world outside the chamber faded, leaving only this moment, only this man.
He lifted her without effort, her skirts flowing as he carried her to the edge of the bed.
“Tell me now if ye have any doubt,” he said, his voice low and searching.
“I have none,” she whispered, brushing her lips to his. “I want ye, Nicholas. I’ve never wanted anything more. Now that we are to be wed, I dinnae want to wait to be yer wife in the bed."
His mouth met hers again, tender and possessive, and he slowly laid her back onto the soft furs.
The heat between them grew, fed by every touch, every whispered breath.
He took his time, his hands reverent and steady as he undid the laces of her gown, baring her skin.
Alexandra arched beneath him, her breath catching, but her gaze never wavered from his until she lay fully naked before him.
“Ye are bonnie,” he said.
He shed his tunic and kilt, then leaned over her, his lips pressing against the slope of her neck, trailing kisses along her collarbone.
“Ye’re everythin’ I never thought I’d have,” he murmured. “A home. A love worth fightin’ for.”
She reached up and cradled his face, her eyes shimmering. “Then let’s have it all, together.”
They moved with growing need and quiet devotion, their bodies finding a rhythm that matched the fire’s soft crackle as they kissed. There was no rush, no game, just the surrender of two hearts made for each other.
Alexandra gasped as his hands explored her skin between her thighs, every caress anchoring her deeper into his embrace. He whispered her name like a prayer, and she answered with soft moans and breathless words only he could hear.
He moved his hand back and forth on the mound of soft curls as her body felt the sensation. She instinctively opened her thighs wider as his fingers slipped inside of her.
“Och, Nicholas,” she moaned.
“Ye’ll drive me mad with yer lusty whispers,” he moaned.
She felt his hand work magic on her as his thumb grazed over her rosebud back and forth. The pulsing building deep within her belly. It grew more intense as his lips hungrily moved on her breasts. She wanted him in every way.
“Och, I feel it,” she said. The trembling of her legs as they encircled her back let her know she was on the brink.
Then the explosion of ecstasy rocked through her. She trembled as her fists grabbed the blanket beneath her and twisted. Her toes curled in response.
Nicholas moaned, “I love to hear yer pleasure, lass.”
Alexandra sank into the bed, allowing the pure release to consume her.
“Are ye sure ye daenae want to wait til we’re wed?” Nicholas asked.
“Nay. Ye are mine and I yers. I need ye inside me, Laird O’Donnell,” she said.
With those words, Nicholas positioned himself between her thighs, guiding the tip of his throbbing manhood inside of her.
Alexandra gasped.
“Are ye all right, lass?” he asked in concern.
“I am. I dinnae expect it to feel like this,” she said.
“There’s more,” he teased.
Then he slowly slid inside of her. With every inch, she moaned louder and louder as he filled her. She had no idea that it would feel like pure bliss to have him in her.
Better yet, she was more taken aback when he started to glide back and forth. The elation felt like madness to her.
“How can somethin’ feel so good?” she moaned.
“It’s ye that make it feel this good,” Nicholas groaned.
He moved faster and faster, his hips slapping against her body as he moved.
Coming together fully was a sense of belonging so complete, it brought tears to Alexandra’s eyes.
Nicholas stilled for a moment, cradling her against him, and pressed his forehead to hers.
“We belong together,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “From now until me last breath.”
They moved again, the urgency building, but never rough, never thoughtless. It was slow and deep, each movement a promise written in skin and firelight.
They clung to each other until the world spun away, and they both reached an intense release with their moans echoing off the walls.
When it ended, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, breathless and warm.
Silence lingered for a while, broken only by the pop of the hearth and the steady beat of Nicholas’s heart beneath her ear.
He ran his fingers through her hair, holding her close as if he feared she might disappear.
Alexandra smiled, content and safe in his arms. She traced circles against his chest with her fingertip, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing.
“That was worth waitin’ for,” Nicholas murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She grinned. “Ye’re tellin’ me.”
They lay like that for a long time, limbs entwined and hearts calm.
Outside the window, the stars blinked quietly above the Highlands, and within the stone walls of the keep, peace settled.
Not the kind born of treaties or battles won, but the rare kind born in love—where trust had grown in the unlikeliest of places.
Alexandra shifted only to pull the covers over them both. “D’ye think Caelan will come shoutin’ again in the mornin’?”
Nicholas chuckled and wrapped his arms tighter around her. “Let him try. I’ll nae be leavin’ this bed.”
“And I’ll nae be lettin’ ye.”
Their laughter faded into quiet again, and soon their breathing slowed. In the quiet of the night, Alexandra nestled closer, her hand resting over Nicholas’s heart. It beat strong and steady beneath her palm, and with that, she finally let sleep take her, knowing she’d never face another day alone.