Chapter 18 #2
They sat at the bar, and the barmaid approached instantly. She was a young woman with dark hair that was pulled back in a bun. Her eyes were tired but still held a spark. Wiping her hands on her apron, she smiled politely.
“What will it be?” she asked.
“Two ales,” Myles replied easily, leaning an elbow on the counter. “And ye have the kindest smile I’ve seen all evening.”
The barmaid blushed. “Is that so?”
“Aye,” Myles said, grinning. “I ken a bonny lass when I see one.”
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks reddened even further as she turned to fetch the drinks. Myles watched her go, pleased with himself.
William accepted the mug when it was placed before him. His fingers wrapped around the handle, but instead of taking a sip, he stared into his drink, lost in thought.
Of course, Myles noticed. Yet he didn’t say anything at first. He simply took a swig of his own drink, before nudging William lightly with his shoulder.
“Ye arenae even lookin’ at the room,” he remarked. “That’s nae like ye.”
William lifted his mug and drank. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous habit,” Myles said dryly.
He studied William. Humor was rarely found in his gaze, but it was worse tonight.
“Ye’ve been quiet all night. Since the village.”
William set down his mug. “There is nothing to say.”
“There’s always something to say,” Myles countered. Then, more carefully, “Especially when a man’s thoughts are so loud.”
William did not answer.
Myles waited a beat, clearly racking his brain for something to lighten the atmosphere. He spoke again, his voice lighter, his eyes glinting.
“Ye havenae even looked at the lassies in here.”
William glanced around the room, more out of obligation than interest. Indeed, women were scattered all over, laughing, drinking, and dancing. But none of them mattered.
“I’m nae in the mood,” he said flatly.
Myles hummed. “Funny. Usually that’s when ye’re most dangerous.” He took another sip of his drink. “Is there a reason ye’re avoiding them? Perhaps a… certain lass?”
William exhaled harshly. “Watch yer tongue.”
Myles raised both hands in mock surrender. “Easy. I’m only asking.” He leaned closer, ignoring William’s warning. If anything, he seemed close to bursting with questions. “Is it because of Lady Dunrath?”
William clenched his jaw. “Daenae speak her name.”
Myles looked even more surprised now, but only for a moment. Then his mouth quirked into a smug smile. “There it is.”
William shot him a cold glare. He straightened his back and downed his drink. “Ye ken nothing.”
“I ken enough,” Myles replied calmly. “Enough to ken when a man is distracted.”
William cleared his throat, turning back to his now-empty mug. “Ye shouldnae speak about matters ye daenae understand.”
Myles shrugged. “Maybe. But I have eyes.”
Wanting to prove him wrong—to prove it to himself, more than anyone—William turned slightly toward the room. Perhaps this was for the best. If he met another woman, he would be able to rid his mind of Sorcha.
He caught the eye of a blonde who was already smiling at him, and forced himself to smile back.
It felt wrong, but he played along, lifting his mug in a small salute.
The woman hesitated, then stood up. She took a step toward him, then froze.
William frowned faintly. Myles’s laughter was what he heard next.
“Ye scared her half to death,” Myles said, wiping his mouth.
William scowled. “I didnae.”
“Aye, ye did,” Myles snorted. “That stare of yers would make most folks rethink their life choices.”
William leaned in. “The funny thing is, it never scares Sorcha.” His fingers tightened around his mug as her name escaped his lips.
“Perhaps what scares her is far more than that,” Myles responded, his voice quieter now.
William paused. “What do ye mean?”
Myles hesitated, then sighed. He glanced around the room before speaking again, his voice lowering further. “I heard something.”
William’s eyebrows squeezed with curiosity. His pulse quickened.
“They say that Lady Dunrath’s been wed three times,” Myles began carefully. “And that all three men are dead.”
William frowned at the words but didn’t interrupt, wanting to hear everything Myles had to say. “Some folks whisper that danger follows her. Others say that she brings it.” Myles eyed him carefully. “And some think that she killed them all.”
William fell silent. He stared ahead, his thoughts racing.
He felt uneasy. Not because he feared the superstition in such rumors, but because of the silent battles Sorcha might be waging. It must be dreadful to wake up to such rumors. To live in perpetual guilt, blaming herself for the ill luck that befell people around her.
She must be scared.
They made sense now, the things she had told him the night she had visited his study in her flimsy nightgown. Now he understood her fear better.
So, that’s what she meant.
William exhaled, gathering his thoughts.
“She didnae do it,” he said, his voice low but firm.
Myles raised an eyebrow. “Ye sound so sure.”
William said nothing more after that. He simply requested a refill. As he drank, he realized that a particular growing interest was interfering with his goal. A new problem he wanted to solve.
To quash every single rumor about Sorcha.
He couldn’t believe himself. He wanted to help the woman he meant to send away. The woman whom he was never meant to look at with desire. But here he was, seeking to ensure her happiness.
He took a sip of his drink.
To be frank, he wasn’t sure which battle would destroy him first. The one against his father’s enemies had a low chance. But the battle against his growing attraction toward Sorcha? That would probably do it.