Page 70 of The Ruthless Highlander's Hellion

“Can ye believe how far we’ve come?” Alexandra asked softly. “Seems like just yesterday we were in the garden at Sinclair Castle speakin’ on what freedom meant to us.”

Erica laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Och, I remember that day well. I’d nearly burst keepin’ me secret from ye. I hinted at it, aye, but I couldnae say the truth of who I was.”

“I would have kept yer secret safe,” Alexandra said, her tone earnest.

“I ken that,” Erica replied, lowering her voice. “But it was too risky then. If anyone had overheard—one wrong whisper and Leo would’ve twisted the truth and declared war on Sinclair. He’d have said yer clan stole me or spun some tale to start a blood feud.”

Alexandra nodded solemnly. “Then I’m glad ye kept it to yerself. In the long run… it all worked out, did it nae?”

“It did,” Erica said with a soft smile. “For us… and for three clans besides.”

They raised their cups again, the firelight catching the rims as they drank. The sound of fiddles rang out again, and somewhere behind them, someone shouted for the bride and groom to dance. But for a moment longer, the two women stood together in quiet understanding, wrapped in friendship forged by truth, trial, and triumph.

The music rose with a lilt that swept through the courtyard like a Highland wind, warm and full of joy. Alexandra turned as Nicholas stepped toward her, his dark eyes gleaming with affection and mischief. He held out his hand with a slight bow,palm open, waiting. Her heart fluttered as she placed her fingers in his.

A cheer erupted from the courtyard as the clansfolk clapped and hooted, raising their cups high. The musicians picked up their pace, fiddles quickening, drums thumping like a heartbeat. Nicholas pulled Alexandra close, his other hand finding the small of her back, guiding her easily across the cobbled stones. Her dress swirled about her legs as they moved, the tartan ribbon at her waist fluttering like a flame.

“I dinnae think I’d ever see a day like this when I took ye from yer carriage,” Nicholas murmured, his voice low, meant only for her.

She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed, breath catching. “Nor did I,” she whispered. “But now that I have… I cannae imagine a life without it.”

He spun her gently, the crowd parting to give them space as the bride and groom danced in the center of their clans’ celebration. Alexandra’s laughter bubbled free, light and unguarded, and Nicholas grinned like a man who had waited a lifetime for this joy. The torches flickered above them, casting golden halos across their skin. She could feel the beat of his heart through his chest, steady and strong, like a promise.

As the music softened into something slower, more intimate, Nicholas drew her even closer, their foreheads nearly touching. “Alexandra,” he said, her name a vow on his tongue, “I love ye.”

She stilled in his arms, eyes searching his. The words came freely, without doubt. “I love ye too, Nicholas. More than I ever thought I could.”

A hush seemed to fall around them despite the lingering revelry, as if the stars themselves leaned in to listen. His fingers traced the line of her jaw, rough thumb brushing against her cheek. “Ye’ve made a home in me heart, lass,” he whispered. “I nay longer feel cursed.”

Her throat tightened, full of feeling. “I am glad to hear it. Ye are nae cursed, me love. I never wanted a man to own me,” she said gently, “but somehow… ye’ve become part of me, like breath, that is nay a curse but fate.”

Nicholas’s arms tightened around her, and he kissed her then—not with hunger or urgency, but with depth and warmth that wrapped around her like a Highland mist. Around them, the courtyard erupted again in applause and laughter, cups raised, feet stomping, voices crying out for another tune. But Alexandra hardly heard them.

All she knew in that moment was Nicholas, the weight of his love settling into her bones like something she’d long hungered for. Their hands remained entwined as they swayed gently, the world moving around them but no longer within them. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she leaned into his chest, safe.

“I’ll spend every day earnin’ yer love, Alexandra,” he vowed.

She looked up, eyes shining. “And I’ll spend every day givin’ it freely.”

The music rose again, and they danced on—husband and wife, laird and lady, but more than that… two hearts that had once been guarded, now wholly open and entwined.

The End?