Chapter 1
Two Months Later
“Darned weather!” William MacLean cursed, riding through the gates of Dunrath Castle like the devil himself was on his heels.
His wet clothes clung to him uncomfortably, and a deathly chill was gradually working its way into his bones. He had had to keep clenching his hands to keep them warm as he rode.
The storm had started without prior warning in the middle of his return to his childhood home and had soaked him in minutes. With no homesteads or shelter for the miles of road ahead of him, he continued at a sedate pace, blinking past the water whipping at his face.
It felt like a warning against what he was about to do, but he was set in his decision.
“At least we survived the journey,” Myles commented briefly once their horses came to a stop. “I thought we would die on this foolhardy journey of yers.”
“I told ye to stay in O’Donnell Castle,” William reminded him. “Rhys and Amara wouldnae have minded.”
“And I told ye I would follow ye everywhere ye go,” Myles retorted with a grin. “Even into hell.”
“‘Tis preferable ye do so in silence then,” William snapped.
Myles’s answering laugh was enough to chase some of the chill that had crept into his bones at seeing his childhood home after so many years.
The last time he had seen these stone walls, he had been fifteen summers, escaping from the coup that had claimed his parents’ lives. Now, he was a grown man, hungry for the revenge that had been denied him by his uncle’s death two months ago.
He gritted his teeth. Had he returned earlier, he would have had the satisfaction of seeing the man fall at his feet. He would have to settle for those who had spurred his greed.
“This place feels colder than hell itself,” Myles commented with a shudder. “‘Tis a far cry from the beauty ye described it to be.”
“Indeed,” William growled. “That bastard took all the warmth from these halls with his treachery.”
“And in his greed, he has clearly let it fall into disrepair,” Myles noted.
“Aye,” William agreed.
He noted, even in the darkness, how ivy had nearly overtaken the walls, with two towers near crumbling. He ground his teeth at the sorry state of his once beautiful home.
“Who are ye?” a frightened female voice squeaked from down the hall.
He couldn’t see her face, but she was holding a lamp. He paused, waiting for her to approach.
Approach she did, and when she lifted the light to his face, she stumbled back in shock, nearly dropping the lamp.
“Careful, lass,” Myles chided playfully. “Ye daenae want to set this place aflame.”
William remembered her from fifteen years ago. She was Mrs. Gibbons, the housekeeper who had plied him with milk and cookies many a time when he struggled to sleep.
The weight of those memories and her betrayal in refusing to protest his uncle’s claim slammed into him with the force of a strong tide.
“I feel like I-I have s-seen a ghost,” she stuttered, horror in her eyes. “I cannae believe it. Willie, is it really ye?”
William frowned at the nickname and stepped past her. “See that me man is well taken care of,” he ordered, not looking at her. “I shall head to the chambers that are rightfully mine.”
“Willie, wait—”
He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he made his way down the hall and up the stairs to the corridor that housed the Laird and Lady’s chambers. Emotion clogged his throat as he remembered walking down the same corridor with his father and mother, and how they had been killed before his eyes.
Forcing his feet to keep moving, he stepped into the Laird’s chambers, then undressed as soon as he had crossed into the bedroom. Everything looked the same as he remembered, which he appreciated, even though it had been soured by his uncle’s presence.
He divested himself of his boots and wet clothes, wondering why a fire was burning in the grate when his uncle had been dead for two months already.
He shook the thought out of his head and slipped into the warm embrace of the furs… only to rear back.
There was a soft and warm body where no one should have been. He reached out again, the lush naked curves stirring his blood.
What woman would dare sleep naked in the Laird’s chambers?
He felt her stir from sleep and turn, before a scream rent the air. He stumbled back right as she did and caught her before she fell off the bed.
She gasped in surprise, stiffening in his arms, before her hands reached out to push him off of her.
“Get away from me!” she screamed. “How dare ye try to assault yer Laird’s wife?”
Wife?
He hadn’t heard anything about his uncle remarrying after his wife’s passing, so how could this young girl be his uncle’s widow?
“Who are ye, and why are ye in me bed?” he demanded, rising.
He couldn’t see her face in the dim light, but he noticed the bed covers shift as she wrapped them around her body. A futile attempt at maintaining decency, considering he had already touched her.
“Yer bed?” she scoffed. “Ye cannae be serious. Get out at once, or I’ll scream again. Surely ye daenae want to be hanged tonight.”
He frowned at her audacity. “These chambers are rightfully mine. How dare—”
“Get out!” she snapped.
He gritted his teeth and grabbed his wet clothes. He couldn’t have a sane conversation when he was naked, and he had yet to recover from the lust coursing through him.
He frowned as he slipped back into his wet clothes, but it was an evil he had to endure until he could dry them.
He heard the door open and turned as warm light spilled into the room. The strange woman had lit a candle, allowing him to see her more clearly.
For a moment, he found himself at a loss for words.
The woman was a striking beauty, albeit much too young to have been wed to his uncle.
She had a youthful face, framed by wavy hair that looked golden in the candlelight.
Her full lips were pressed tightly into a thin line, but that didn’t detract from their appeal.
He wondered for a moment if they felt as soft as the rest of her.
She was more than a head shorter, and through the robe she now wore, he could see her full figure. She was a curvy thing, made for loving.
He frowned harder at the thought that such a beautiful creature had been tainted by his uncle’s hands.
He cleared his throat to draw her gaze to his, and he gritted his teeth when he found himself admiring the flush in her cheeks.
She lifted her chin in a weak attempt at defiance, and he folded his arms, arching an eyebrow at her.
“‘Tis clear ye are a stranger, as I havenae seen ye in these halls before,” she started. “I am Sorcha, the widow of Laird Dunrath. Who are ye? Speak truly, and I may forgive yer indiscretion.”
“How would ye ken if I spoke an untruth?” he asked.
Her voice surprised him. It was rich and smooth, like the caress of silk against skin. He could see why his uncle had married her. He had been in her presence only a short moment, and he wanted her with a burning intensity that surprised him.
“That doesnae matter,” she said stubbornly. “What matters is that I ken who ye are.”
“I am William MacLean,” he replied, “the rightful Laird of Clan Dunrath, and I have come to reclaim me inheritance.”
She raised an eyebrow, though a hint of uncertainty flashed in her eyes.
“I daenae believe ye,” she huffed. “I havenae heard of ye. Surely if it were yers by right, someone would have told me—”
“Me uncle was clever to tarnish me reputation as well as me faither’s to make sure that nay one would speak of me,” he cut in. “It doesnae matter if ye believe me or nae. Ask anyone, and ye shall learn me identity.”
She seemed to consider his words, as he could see a barrage of emotions cross her features. Worry, anxiety, and distrust battled for supremacy in her eyes, but he was sorely uncomfortable in the wet garments clinging to him and couldn’t wait for her to decide.
“Reclaiming what’s mine by right includes these chambers ye’ve made yer own,” he told her. “Ye should find other accommodations for the evening. I wouldnae be so cruel as to ask ye to return to yer clan tonight, but that is the extent of me benevolence.”
Her eyes snapped to his. “I—” she broke off. “But I am the widow of Laird Dunrath!”
“Only because me uncle stole what was mine,” he growled. “I am being merciful by nae evicting ye at once. Daenae test me, lass.”
She let out a huff of irritation and stormed past him toward the door. He turned to watch her leave, raising an eyebrow at the childish display. His eyebrows rose further when she stopped and turned to him with a vulnerable expression on her face.
The look took him aback, and he wondered what he could have done to put such fear in her eyes. He hadn’t told her he would be evicting her or punishing her for her husband’s crimes, so why did she look so frightened?
“Did ye see anything?” she asked softly.
Her voice was so low that he would have missed the question if he hadn’t paying attention.
“Excuse me?”
She regarded him carefully. “Did ye see me… me naked body?” she asked, the flush in her cheeks deepening.
William saw the honesty and innocence in her question. He could tease her and claim that he did, but he feared that would cause the fear he had seen earlier in her eyes to return.
“Nay,” he answered. “I didnae.”
And he meant it. The light had been too dim to offer him any view of her, after all.
She blinked furiously before nodding, relief flooding her features. “All right then,” she said, then turned and left the room.
It was only when the door had closed behind her that he allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding.
If she had been that worried that he had seen her naked body, he wondered how worried she would be if she knew that her softness was seared in his mind like a brand.
He groaned as he remembered the feel of her curves against him. Lust roared hotter in his blood.
Damn!
He had thought the only challenge returning home would be finding and punishing the men responsible for his parents’ death, but it seemed avoiding his uncle’s widow was another.