Chapter 7
“Ungrateful man,” Sorcha muttered under her breath as she paced her room, fighting the urge to stamp her foot like a child throwing a tantrum. Her blood was still boiling with anger and humiliation.
Last night, she had awoken to a great crash. At first, she could not pinpoint the direction the sound was coming from, but when it came again and again, sleep left her, and she realized that someone must have broken into the castle.
Listening intently, she noted that the sound was coming from the west wing, where the Laird’s bedchamber was located.
She had worried that the Laird was fighting for his life and wrung her hands. Even if he was a trained warrior, he wasn’t above getting hurt.
She had to help him. How, she did not know, but she could not sit back and do nothing.
Quickly, she rose from bed and tied her robe around her nightdress. She picked up the candleholder with the intent to use it as a weapon, then slowly crept out of her room.
While the man was annoying most times, she did not have the heart to let him get killed or hurt. If by any chance she could help, she would offer him that help, whether he liked it or not.
As she padded down the hallway, her hands shaking with anxiety, she grew aware of another pair of footsteps that did not belong to her. Her heart lurched to her throat as she acknowledged that the intruder’s accomplice might have followed her to prevent her from helping William.
The thought filled her with anger. She was not going to allow anyone die in her castle if she had anything to say about it.
She was Lady Dunrath, and anyone who was not invited into her home had no right to trespass.
Since the cad was bold enough to approach her, she was going to make sure he received the punishment he deserved.
Adopting an offensive stance, she spun on her heel, holding out the candleholder like a weapon.
“It is me,” she heard Poppy whisper, amusement lacing her voice. “I heard the crash, and I came down to check. Besides, I doubt the candleholder will do real damage.”
“Well, it is better than nothing,” Sorcha countered with false bravado, grateful for the darkness that hid her flushed cheeks.
Her plan was most likely foolish, but it was the only one she had.
“Well, if ye are going to skulk in the night, maybe it is best if ye daenae do it alone. We might stand a better chance against the thieving scoundrel,” Poppy pointed out.
Sorcha wholeheartedly agreed. It was certainly reassuring to have Poppy by her side.
A few more minutes of creeping down the hallways and several scares later, they finally arrived at William’s bedchamber.
Sorcha opened the door, not the least bit surprised to find the room in total disarray.
There was evidence of a scuffle, but the sight of William’s injuries had alarmed her.
So she hurried to his side to tend to him, only to be rejected right there in front of his guard.
To add insult to injury, he had even insisted that his guard guard her room like she was a rebellious child.
Considering the risk she had taken to go to him that night, and how sick she had been with worry, the least he could do was be grateful. Instead, he had decided to flex his ego.
“I will deal with him. He will ken better than to toy with me next time,” she muttered under her breath.
“Well, rest easy,” Poppy interjected in a suspiciously cheery tone. “I have already taken revenge on yer behalf.”
“What did ye do?” Sorcha sputtered, sitting up.
While Poppy was level-headed and had been her moral compass growing up, sometimes she could be petty.
Countless times, she had put Sorcha’s bullies in their place, conjuring elaborate punishments that were sure to cause discomfort and anger.
The funniest part was possibly the fact that no one suspected her because she often seemed sensible.
Sorcha was quite excited to see her maid’s mischievous side after such a long time.
“What did ye do?” she prodded
“Let us just say that the Laird wouldnae be able to act high and mighty for a while, nae when he has to wear pink shirts to his meetings.”
Sorcha’s mouth fell open in disbelief, before she dissolved into a fit of laughter. “Ye didnae,” she gasped.
“I certainly did.”
“Where did ye get the dye?”
“Picked some heathers and lichen for their pigment and made sure to add it to the water for his laundry.”
“How did ye get access to it? I thought his maids did that chore.”
“Well, the maid in charge of the Laird’s laundry is me friend. I just had to convince her to accept me help.”
“Wouldnae that put her in trouble?” Sorcha asked, biting her lip.
“Nay, it willnae. I let everyone ken that I was the one who washed the Laird’s clothes. Most of them think I did it because I wanted to be praised for the effort. But I did it so that me friend will be spared, in case the Laird came to complain.”
“Ye would get in trouble for me?”
“I am nae afraid of the Laird. I have always wanted to give him a piece of me mind. I just might have the opportunity now.”
“But—”
Before Sorcha could finish, the door burst open, and William barged in, wearing an unbuttoned pinkish shirt. Seeing him in such a ridiculous color, so angry he could not talk, she had to bite back a laugh.
“What did ye do to me shirts?” he bit out.
“I washed them.”
“Then ye must have dyed them as well.”
Sorcha just shrugged. Turning to Poppy, she whispered, “Go, spend time with yer friend.”
“But—” Poppy started, her eyes darting between them, obviously worried.
“Go,” Sorcha urged with a reassuring smile.
There must have been something reassuring about her expression because in the next moment, Poppy bolted out of the room, leaving her alone with William.
The moment her maid left, Sorcha turned to study William. No matter how hard he frowned, the expression was ruined by the feminine color.
She could not help but laugh, amused by the picture he presented. But he was not amused, and the sound of her laughter seemed to anger him further.
Pulling off the shirt, he crumpled it into a ball and threw it down with so much force that her laughter died down.
The man was a veritable sculpture, his chest and abdomen a wall of hard muscle with no hint of fat anywhere. She swallowed, appreciating the beauty of the man before her.
“Sorcha,” he hissed, jolting her out of her lustful daze. “Who would take responsibility for this?”
“Well, that is me. Ye must have decided I was the culprit, since ye came here.”
“What are ye going to do about this?” he fumed, his muscles rippling distractingly.
Sorcha had to take a deep breath and focus on his angry face instead of his naked chest.
“Nothing,” she answered. “This is yer punishment.”
“Punishment for what?” he growled, prowling toward her.
She should probably run, but instead of feeling scared, she was aroused, enjoying being the focus of such raw intensity.
Swallowing hard, she replied, “For dismissin’ me last night when I only wanted to help.”
“Ye were putting yerself in danger.”
“I was worried about ye.”
“I am a grown man. I can protect meself. I daenae need yer worry.”
She certainly knew that.
Her eyes drifted to his naked chest, and just as quickly, they darted away. But not before William caught her ogling him. His lips stretched into a dangerous grin.
“I ken ye are,” she muttered.
“Maybe,” William drawled, prowling even closer, his eyes smoldering, “ye just wanted to see me without a shirt on.”
“I daenae ken what ye’re talking about,” she replied, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Ye certainly do.” He let out a dark chuckle. The sound did crazy things to her insides. “Ye didnae need to go through the trouble of ruining me clothes. Ye just had to ask.”
“I didnae—” she started to protest, but he was not listening, his eyes locked on her lips with scalding intensity.
The next thing she knew, he pulled her to him, slanted his mouth over hers, and kissed her, stealing her breath and thoughts.
The heat that had been simmering exploded between them until she could think of nothing other than the overwhelming urge to get closer to him, to tear off her clothes so she could feel the warmth of his skin.
What she lacked in experience, she made up for in enthusiasm. She opened her mouth when his tongue teased her lips, demanding entry. Then his tongue was tangling with hers, fighting for dominance, ratcheting up their desire even higher.
By the time he broke their kiss, she realized that she had wrapped her arms and legs around his neck and waist, virtually climbing him.
Embarrassed, she immediately let go, fighting to regain control of her senses. She made the mistake of looking at him, only to find naked hunger in his eyes. The hand on the nape of her neck began caressing her, fanning the flames of the desire she was fighting to control.
“If I didnae ken better,” he said in a husky voice, “I would have thought this was yer first kiss.”
“Perhaps because it is,” she whispered, enjoying the shock on his face.
“But ye have been married several times—”
“None of them had lived long enough to consummate the marriage.”
“So ye are an innocent,” he purred, his smile sinful and promising pleasure.
He moved even closer, his breath fanning her neck, before taking her earlobe between his teeth, nibbling on it until she struggled not to give in and beg him to take her.
“Ye are so responsive, so innocent,” he mummured against her ear. “Ye should ken better than to tangle with a man like me, lass. If ye play too close to the fire, ye might get burned.”
With that, he strode out, leaving her to gather the pieces of her composure. It certainly did not help that his last words kept echoing in her mind.
She would not mind burning in the passion she had glimpsed in his eyes.
By the time Poppy returned, she felt more grounded and less like the wanton that had almost begged William to ravish her.
“Poppy,” she said quietly, “While I appreciate yer desire to protect me, I daenae want to lose ye, and the new Laird is likely to send ye away if an incident like this happens again. I daenae want that. I can handle me own problems.”
She could, as soon as she could prevent herself from falling easily for William’s charms.