Chapter 10
So now what, Sorcha?
Ye’ve been standin’ here for five minutes. Say something.
The voice in her head was far louder than the silence pressing in from all sides.
Sorcha was rooted to the spot. The room smelled faintly of parchment, leather, and… him.
Light danced across the walls, but none of it distracted her from the man who was watching her as though she were a puzzle he did not know how to solve.
William MacLean. Dark brown eyes. Unblinking.
He did not move, nor did he speak. However, his frown was still there, etched deeply between his eyebrows. It had smoothed enough to suggest the curiosity that had slipped beneath his irritation.
He was watching her, measuring her as though she posed some sort of threat just by standing there with nothing but thin fabric and defiance. Her heart kicked in her chest.
Sorcha opened her mouth to speak.
“Ye lose sleep just to stare at me,” he said flatly, beating her to it. “Or is there a point to this visit?”
She blinked at his words, before scoffing. “If I wished to admire yer face, me Laird, I’d do it in daylight. Less chance of trippin’ over yer ego.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Barely.
She opened her mouth again, determined not to let another silence reign, when he took a step toward her. Just one. But it was enough to shrink the distance between them.
Her body reacted instantly, heat curling low in her belly.
Daenae come any closer.
He stopped, as though he could hear her thoughts.
His gaze still fixed on her face, he spoke in a maddeningly calm voice, “If ye were intending on haunting me chambers, ye could’ve done it in something more… decent.”
Her breath caught. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him incredulously.
“Decent?” she echoed. “This is a nightgown. It is worn at night. Did ye expect me to sleep in a ballgown?”
His jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared.
“Why are ye here?” he demanded.
The question, sharp and dangerous, hung between them. There were a dozen ways she could answer. She could test the waters with half-truths, deflections, or light words.
But William MacLean did not test the waters. He shattered them. He was blunt to the point of brutality, and she knew that anything less than honesty would be time-wasting.
So she did the one thing she knew she should not—she stepped toward him.
The movement was slow. One step at a time. For the briefest moment, she caught his gaze dip. Just a fraction, but low enough to register the way curves quivered with every step she took.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. But she did her best to ignore it, lifting her chin before meeting his eyes squarely.
“Were ye almost killed?” she asked.
The effect of her question was immediate. It could be seen in the way his eyebrows rose slowly, as though he had not expected those words to come out of her mouth.
His eyes flickered with both surprise and calculation, before realization dawned in them. And that was when she understood.
Myles.
He was not supposed to tell her what had almost happened that night.
Yet, she held her ground, awaiting William’s response, even though her heart raced faster.
William studied her for a long moment before answering, “It would take more than that to destroy me.”
His words held no bravado. They were not intended to be boastful. They only held pure certainty. A fire that matched the one in his eyes. Dark, dangerous, and unwavering. She had never seen anything like it, and for a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe.
“If ye have any sense left,” he continued, “ye’ll pack yer belongings and leave first thing in the morning.”
Her frown deepened, her annoyance rising at his words.
“I am certain I made meself clear before,” she said coolly. “Yer words hold nay power over me.”
His fingers slowly curled at his sides till his knuckles turned white. Still, she did not back down. If anything, she stepped closer until only a hairsbreadth remained between them.
She could feel his warmth now, and it made her heart pound so hard she was sure he could hear it.
“Besides,” she added softly, refusing to look away, “I didnae come here for that.”
His eyes darkened.
“I came here because I have questions. About the assassin. About whether ye have any idea who—”
“That,” he cut in with a rough growl, the sound vibrating through her, “is none of yer business.”
Her lashes fluttered at the intensity of his gaze.
He leaned in, just enough for his breath to fan her cheeks. “Worry about yerself instead.”
It sounded like a dismissal, but there was something else in his tone. Not the sharp-edged command she had grown used to. Not anger. But something else. Something that was almost… tender.
It made her breath shudder out of her. And the only thing she wanted to confirm was her thoughts.
Daenae do this, the voice at the back of her head warned. Daenae push him.
But she ignored it. She had already closed the distance between them. Now, the air around them tightened with heat and tension.
“If this concern of yers,” she said softly, “is truly for me sake—”
He drew in a deep breath, silencing her. He broke eye contact, turning away from her and moving toward his desk.
“Leave,” he ordered, taking another breath that sounded more like a warning.
Clearly, he was dismissing her. But she was not finished.
Stepping toward the desk, she demanded, “Answer me.”
He was about to sit down, but her words had stopped him. He lifted his brown eyes to her, and she could see he had no intention of continuing this conversation.
“Get some sleep, Sorcha. I’ve nay answers for ye.” His voice was tight.
“Nay,” she said stubbornly.
His back stiffened, and irritation flashed in his eyes.
“I willnae,” she added nonetheless, refusing to soften it. “Nae when ye have Myles following me like a shadow.”
That did it.
William straightened to his full height, his hands slipping away from the dark wood. Silence settled between them, almost pressing against her ears. Yet, she moved amidst it, close enough until the edge of the desk brushed her thighs.
Defiantly, she flattened her palms against the surface and lifted her chin. “Danger follows me,” she said, her voice wavering despite her efforts. “It always has. So if it’s chosen me next, I wouldnae be surprised.” Her fingers curled slightly against the wood. “And I deserve to ken why.”
William did not respond. But his stern facade had faltered a little, enough to reveal what lay beneath: worry, real and unmistakable. The sight of it stole her breath.
“Ye do care,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
That truth warmed and terrified her all at once.
“I am nae ready to leave,” she admitted, the words trembling free. “And I daenae wish to remarry.”
She paused, her fingers trembling slightly against the wood. She wasn’t sure whether to let him see this very part of her, to reveal her deepest fear to him, but something drew her to him. Even though it sounded foolish, something about him made her want to trust him.
She took a deep breath, her lips parting slightly.
“Every time someone gets close to me,” she went on, her voice barely above a whisper, “evil seems to follow. As if I am cursed to bring ruin with me.” She swallowed hard. “If I return home, I’ll be married off again. And if disaster strikes after that… I daenae ken if I could survive it.”
Like a coin sinking into the water, sympathy replaced the irritation on his face. It was brief, but it was there. It was something dangerous that softened his expression in the rarest way. Something he clearly did not welcome.
However, almost immediately, he schooled his features, his jaw tightening as he looked away. And as though he were wrestling with a memory, his fingers curled into tight fists.
The sight made her concern flare before she could stop it.
“William?” she prompted quietly. “Are ye…”
She reached for him, as if to let her touch ask, Are ye all right? But the moment her fingertips brushed his skin, he recoiled, snatching his hand away as though her touch had burned him.
The softness on his face had vanished, only to be replaced by something colder. Sharper. Controlled.
Without a word, he stepped past her, reaching for the lamp on the desk. His hand closed around it, extinguishing the flame at once. It was instant, the darkness that rushed in.
A soft gasp escaped Sorcha’s lips.
What is he doing?
She could not see him anymore, but she could still feel him. She could feel his nearness, like a drunken invitation to surrender.
His warmth enveloped her, indicating that he had moved even closer. So close that she could almost sense the outline of his figure.
“Me Laird…” The words slipped past her lips in a shaky whisper.
Something about standing there, shrouded in darkness, made hunger flare inside her. The kind that betrayed the main purpose of her visit.
William didn’t respond immediately. Rather, she felt his warm breath ghost over her skin. It trailed from her neck to the sensitive curve of her shoulder, making her arch toward him.
And when she did, she regretted it with a shudder. Because she gave him access to the shell of her ear. The intimacy of it made her sex clench with hot need.
The pounding of her heart was the only thing she could hear now. Well, at least before he spoke again.
“I’ve lived with nothing but darkness for many years,” he murmured, his rough voice vibrating through her in a way that made wetness pool between her thighs. “Evil has been me companion longer than I care to admit.”
Her lips parted on a silent moan. She wanted to focus on his words, but it was hard. Every moment in this darkness left her wanting nothing but the feel of his body pinning her down, the press of his mouth against her skin.
“And ye…” He paused for a moment, letting suspense fill the space between them. “Ye might be the one thing that could ruin everything I’ve built to survive it.”
Even though she couldn’t see him, her brow creased with confusion.
What does he mean? Ruin… how?
“Nothing will change me mind,” he added quietly. “Me decision is final.”
He found her hand in the darkness and pressed the lamp into her palm. She didn’t miss the way his fingers briefly wrapped around hers before letting go. She tried hard to fight it, but the contact still stole her breath.
“Go to sleep,” he whispered.
His hand fell away, before he stepped back.
Sorcha stood there with a heavy heart. Slowly, she relit the lamp. When she did, she realized she was standing alone in the study.
Turning her head, she noticed that the door was open. And William was nowhere in sight.