Chapter 12
Sorcha was no longer certain where Keegan was taking her.
At first, she had not cared. When he had leaned close and asked if they could go somewhere private, she had not given it much thought.
All she wanted at that moment was distance. Distance from William’s unbearable gaze. Distance from his pull.
His indifference affected her harder than anger ever could. And if she were being honest with herself, she wanted to provoke him.
She wanted him to see her with another man and feel something ugly twist in his chest. Regret. Perhaps jealousy. Anything that would prove she meant more to him than a problem to be solved. But now that she was crossing the dim corridor, she did not want it anymore.
However, Keegan kept walking.
Sorcha slowed her steps as unease crept in. She glanced sideways at him.
Too old, her inner voice whispered.
And something about him made the back of her neck prickle. She no longer wanted to be alone with him.
The corridor led them to the gallery. When the door shut behind them, she swallowed hard.
She racked her brain for an excuse. Any excuse, really.
I’ve forgotten something.
I feel faint.
I need to feed a bairn.
God, she was terrible at this.
She decided to go with the first excuse. But right as she opened her mouth, the door slammed open. She jumped, and her breath caught in her throat.
Keegan turned his head, irritation flashing across his face as his gaze landed on the doorway.
“Why daenae ye return to the party?” a low voice said. “I’d like a word with Lady Dunrath.”
Her heart stuttered.
That voice…
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Slowly, she turned to find William standing in the doorway. Dark green fabric clothed his broad frame, the light outlining the sharp angles of his face. He looked every inch the Laird, commanding, immovable, lethal in his calm.
His eyes were not fixed on her. Rather, they were fixed on Keegan.
Sorcha followed his gaze. Immediately, tension spiked between the two men, like invisible blades already drawn.
Keegan gave a sarcastic laugh. “I didnae ken ye were so eager to interrupt,” he said. “I thought ye might appreciate me company, seein’ as she’s yer uncle’s widow.”
Sorcha felt huge discomfort at those words. Her eyebrows knitted together. She did not like the way he said it. Did not like the implication.
William said nothing yet. Instead, he took a step forward. Then another. Until she could feel him behind her. She stole a glance at him.
She had never seen him like this. Every trace of humor had vanished from his expression. His face looked as though it were carved from stone, his eyes dark and suffocating in their focus.
“At least ye ken yer place,” he said at last, his voice dangerously calm. “But it’s nae as close as the relationship ye had with me uncle.”
Keegan stiffened at those words, amusement vanishing from his face as if something bitter had replaced it.
It made Sorcha realize that there was history here. Ugly history. She could feel it like a vibration under her skin. The two men were staring at each other with thinly veiled hatred, especially William.
Keegan said nothing for a moment. Eventually, he exhaled, schooling his features as he turned to her. “It was a pleasure spendin’ time with ye, me Lady,” he said. “Perhaps we’ll speak again.”
Sorcha nodded slowly, still trying to understand what had just happened.
Keegan gave William one last look before stepping past him and leaving the room.
The door closed, and suddenly, she was alone with William. But she was not ready to face the intensity of his gaze.
She was eager to break the silence. A defiant frown settled on her face as if it were armor.
“Well then,” she said, “I thought ye wanted me to find a suitor. Why interfere now?”
Her voice was sharp, bouncing off painted walls and old stone.
William said nothing at first. He only clenched his jaw, as though fighting something within. Then he moved without warning. Not away, but toward her.
The first step stole her breath. The second made her body shiver. The third closed the space between them.
Yet, Sorcha held her ground, her stubborn pride flaring. She would not step back. She would not allow him to see how easy he unraveled her.
William stopped so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His stormy eyes left her wondering what made him so angry.
His gaze briefly dropped to her lips, before rising again to meet hers. Which only ratcheted up her want.
“What do ye think ye were doing?” he asked suddenly.
The authority in his voice hit her like a physical blow.
She blinked in confusion, her lashes fluttering. “I—what?”
He did not give her time to gather herself. He leaned in, eliminating the little space that remained between them. Instinct screamed at her to move. She meant to. Truly, she did. But she was a second too late. Or perhaps he was simply too fast.
His arm snaked around her waist possessively, pulling her against him with startling force. Air rushed from her lungs as her body collided with the solid wall of his chest.
“William!” she gasped.
But it only made his grip tighten. Heat stirred within her, pooling between her legs. She could feel the strength of his arms, and it made her press her thighs together.
What was he doing? What had come over him?
This was not the cold, distant laird who issued commands from across his desk. This laird was brimming with something raw and barely leashed.
Yet there was no softness in his eyes when she tilted her head to look at him. If anything, he looked angry. Dangerously so.
His head lowered until his breath fanned her forehead. “How dare ye let him touch ye like that?” he growled.
The words sank into her slowly, before dissolving into understanding.
Jealousy. That was all this was about. It was evident in his tight grip, in the length stiffening against her until she felt every thick inch of it.
But beneath all of that lurked something darker—dominance, possession.
Sorcha swallowed hard. Her thoughts scattered like smoke. She had planned to be defiant, but his proximity ruined everything. The warmth of him. The strength of his arm. The fury vibrating beneath his skin.
She did not know what to say.
He squeezed her waist harder. The pressure was deliberate and claiming.
Eventually, she found her voice, though it came out more shaky than she intended. “That is none of yer concern.”
At that, he growled. His hand came up to grab her chin without warning, tilting her face up until she had no choice but to meet his eyes. There was no trace of light in them now.
“This,” he said quietly, “will be the last time ye play games with me.”
He paused, his thumb pressing lightly against her jaw, forcing her attention where he wanted it.
His voice lowered further. “Do ye understand?”
For a moment, she could only stare at him. Stare at those dark brown eyes and parted lips. Until her disbelief bubbled up, sharp and incredulous.
A breathless chuckle escaped her lips. “Ye’ve got some nerve.”
His eyes narrowed. But she did not back down. Not now. She would not allow him to intimidate her into silence, not when his jealousy burned this bright.
She twisted slightly in his hold, such that her waist pressed against his hardness. The low growl that rumbled in his chest caused more wetness to pool between her thighs.
“To me,” she whispered, “it looks like ye’re fightin’ yerself.”
Emotion flickered in his eyes.
“I’ll do whatever I please,” she added, her stubbornness growing further. “And I’ll do it now. I’ll return to the party, choose the most handsome suitor, and let him touch me however I wish.”