Chapter 2
“Sorcha, ye’re finally here!” Rhea greeted, buttering a piece of toast as Sorcha took her seat at the high table.
“I am sorry, Rhea,” Sorcha answered with a small smile. “I couldnae sleep until late last night.”
“Did ye stay up to read again?” Rhea asked, wrinkling her nose. “Ye daenae want to strain yer eyes, do ye?”
“Nay,” Sorcha answered. “I shall try to pick a less harmful hobby to bore me to sleep.”
Her jibe caused the younger girl to titter into her hands, which caused a wide smile to spread across Sorcha’s face. She gave a small smile to Avery, who nodded in turn, and then looked back at Rhea when the girl began regaling her with stories from the last book she had read.
Rhea was a cheerful distraction from the thoughts that had assailed her the entire night since her encounter with the man who had claimed to be the rightful Laird of the clan.
She had tarried a little that morning in the hope of avoiding him, and she was glad to see he was absent from the dining hall before she could inform the girls or at least had the time to prepare herself to see him again.
The fear of feeling a man’s hand on her body rose again, but she tamped it down.
She couldn’t fault him for expecting to find the Laird’s chambers empty, but she could fault him for taking such liberties when he hadn’t and for the way her heart had fluttered when his rich voice had rolled over her skin like silk.
She had managed to glimpse his handsome face in the little light the candle had offered, and his imposing frame. She had felt so small in front of him.
She couldn’t sleep, unable to forget the intensity of his gaze as he had studied her when she had met him in the receiving room. Even now, her face flushed.
But then she pushed away those thoughts to focus on the one that mattered most: what did his appearance mean for her?
He had said he wouldn’t evict her, but if he had been wronged by his uncle, surely he hadn’t come for peace, and she and the girls would be casualties of his revenge.
“Sorcha, are ye well?” Rhea asked with a concerned look. “Ye look pale.”
Sorcha nodded, then shook her head. “I feel a little unwell,” she admitted. “I had an unpleasant meeting with a man who claimed to be the rightful Laird of the clan. He said he was William MacLean.”
The girls’ gasps made her heart sink. The two shared a look before leaning closer.
“Are ye sure ye heard correctly, Sorcha?” Avery whispered.
“Aye,” Sorcha answered. “I couldnae forget it even if I wanted to.”
“I cannae believe he has finally returned,” Rhea muttered, looking worried.
Sorcha had never seen such looks on their faces, not even when they had been told that their father had died. She still couldn’t understand why neither of the girls was distraught like they should have been, considering their father had died, but she hadn’t probed, not wanting to seem insensitive.
“I suspected he would, but so soon?” Avery shook her head.
“Ye ken who he is?” Sorcha asked.
“Aye,” Avery answered, looking grim. “His faither was the previous Laird, and I heard he was a tyrant and a greedy man. The clan suffered under his control, and me faither had to seize control to fix things. At least that’s what I was told.
William is his son, and he escaped during the coup.
Nay one kens how, and we daenae remember much since we were children back then. ”
That filled Sorcha with such dread that the delicious spread before her lost its appeal.
She had hoped the man was naught more than an intruder or at least a powerless braggart, but the fear in the girls’ eyes told her that caution would be needed going forward.
He believed his family had been wronged by his uncle and had returned after so many years to claim what was his. He wouldn’t have come unless he knew he was capable of reclaiming his right.
But where would that leave her?
“Lady Avery?” Henry, the late Laird’s man-at-arms, called, looking red in the face. “The Laird calls for ye.”
“The Laird?” Avery gasped. “What do ye mean?”
“He has asked to see ye in his study, me Lady. Please daenae refuse him.”
Henry looked frightened as he spoke, and Sorcha could only wonder what had happened to make him so.
“I will go,” Avery announced, rising from her seat.
“Nay, Avery,” Rhea begged. “Daenae go.”
“He willnae hurt me.”
Sorcha watched the girl leave with squared shoulders. She wished she had Avery’s confidence. Her hands shook as she waited, her heart beating an unfamiliar rhythm as she contemplated what the future held for her.
Soon, Henry returned and took Rhea with him, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She was so lost in thought that it wasn’t until a cold hand came down on her wrist that she jolted.
She turned to see the seneschal, Gregor, standing beside her. She withdrew her hand and kept it at her side, watching him warily.
Gregor had an easy smile on his face and kind eyes, yet she couldn’t bring herself to trust him.
From the moment they had met, she had always wondered why he was given so much power.
He had a say in the running of the clan, its finances, and hiring.
And while he acted humble, she couldn’t help but see the facade and wonder what lay beneath.
“Gregor,” she greeted with a forced smile. “How may I help ye?”
“I need nay help today, me Lady,” he answered with a small smile. “I want to offer ye some.”
“But I am nae in distress,” she retorted with a raised eyebrow.
His face softened with an understanding look, as though he thought she was only trying to hide her fear.
“I ken ye fear the arrival of the upstart, but daenae worry,” he said with a nod of his head. “The council and I will protect ye.”
Damn.
She had been thrust into clan politics, which she never wanted to play. She had been sheltered from it all by her father, but now it seemed she would have to learn the game or be scalded in the process.
“I—”
“Ye daenae need to be grateful yet, me Lady,” Gregor said, straightening. “Just take our gesture in good faith.”
The words were kind enough, but they left her with a sense of foreboding in her chest.
“Me Lady,” Henry called suddenly, startling her. “The Laird is asking for ye.”
So her turn had finally come.
Neither Avery nor Rhea had returned to the dining hall, and she wondered if they had been expressly warned against speaking with her before the Laird could.
Nonetheless, she squared her shoulders, not wanting to look intimidated. A few concerned servants watched her leave, and she gave them a reassuring smile. She would not allow this man to ruin the peace she had found in this clan, even if it was the last thing she did.
“I believe the options I have given ye are fair, Sorcha,” William said, drawing her gaze to him.
“Ye could return home to yer family, or ye may leave and marry elsewhere. Either way, I want ye out of the castle by the week’s end.
That should give ye ample time to pack yer belongings and make arrangements for yer travels. ”
There were only four days till the week’s end, and he called it ample time? Who the bloody hell did he think he was?
Sorcha had allowed his rugged beauty to distract her when she had first stepped into his study and seen him in daylight, but his cold demeanor and condescension had quickly rid her of the thought.
There was nothing beautiful about a man who lacked courtesy and sympathy.
“How dare ye?” she spat.
“Pardon?”
“I said, how dare ye?” she reiterated. “How dare ye throw me so carelessly out of the clan when I am the widow of the previous Laird? Who do ye think ye are?” Her chest heaved as fury coursed through her.
His eyes darkened. “Do ye derive joy in holding onto the title of a dead bastard?” he spat with so much venom, but she didn’t shrink back. “I told ye that he stole what was rightfully mine, yet ye still cling to the falsehood of his rule.”
She bristled at the insult.
“I only mean to nae be dismissed so easily,” she said, squaring her shoulders and swallowing past the lump in her throat. “I am nae some inconvenience ye can carelessly toss aside. I am a person, and I have a right to be here, as much as ye do.”
“If there were any justice in the world, lass, ye wouldnae be here,” he sneered.
“But four days?” she asked incredulously. “Even if I consented to leave, ye would leave me with only four days to do so? ‘Tis nae possible.”
“Ye have maids and footmen at yer disposal,” he said coolly. “I believe ye can manage.”
She gasped, shaking her head. “I have never met anyone as cruel as ye.”
“Then ye havenae been married to me uncle long enough to ken what cruelty looks like,” he shot back.
She felt her cheeks heat with mortification.
She had never been so rudely treated in her life, and the fact that this man could do so with ease had her chest burning with many words she wanted to say. But he didn’t give her room, for he spoke again.
“This isnae the place for ye if ye’re offended so easily. Ye think this place a home, but ye’re in a nest of snakes that would easily bite ye once ye’re deemed weak.”
His words stole the heat from her body.
She wondered briefly if it was concern that made him adamant to see her gone before he started whatever he had come here to do.
“I daenae need ye to defend me,” she said softly. “I can protect meself. It shouldnae be a concern of yers if—”
“‘Tis nae a concern of mine,” he snapped. “It bothers me little whether or nae ye are hurt. I want ye gone, and I want it to happen quickly.”
Shock had her rearing back. How could she have forgotten so quickly that he was nothing more than a brash and uncouth man because of a few kind words?
“Ye’re a cad!” she cried.
“I wasnae unaware, lass.”
She huffed and stormed out of the study, making sure to slam the door hard. She moved with purpose, knowing that if she was going to secure her stay in the clan, she would need power and support. And what better place was there to source both than her people?
She let herself into the dining hall with all the rage she had exited the study with, drawing eyes as she moved to the center of the room.
“The new Laird must go!” she announced, looking every man and woman in the eye.
If she were to defend her right to remain, she needed as many people on her side as she could manage.