Chapter 19
Most of the castle’s residents were asleep when the horses finally cantered into the courtyard.
Silence reigned, the stone walls bathed in moonlight. Even the guards spoke in hushed murmurs, as though the night per se demanded respect.
William swung down from his horse, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. His body ached from the ride, and his jaw was tight.
“I’m done for,” Myles yawned loudly. “If I daenae sleep now, I’ll turn into a proper bampot come morning.”
William snickered softly. “Ye’ve been one already.”
Myles chuckled, stepping back. “Aye, but a well-rested one is far more tolerable.” He paused, eyeing him carefully. “Ye comin’?”
William shook his head once. “Nay. Go ahead.”
Myles studied him a moment longer, then shrugged. “Suit yerself, me Laird. Try nae to brood holes into the walls.”
With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows that led to another corridor, his boots clicking against the floor.
William was left standing alone. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t sleepy, but the night was too heavy for him. He let out a slow breath and dragged a hand down his face.
A goddamn failure. That was what this journey had been.
No new evidence. No answers strong enough to bring Gregor or Fergus down without turning the people fully against him. Worse, he had failed to rid himself of Sorcha. He had even failed at distraction.
His jaw clenched as he reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey He loved the feel of the cool glass against his palm.
With that, he turned and headed inside, his footsteps echoing softly in the corridors.
His life had never been this complicated. Every path he took seemed to lead toward her.
Get rid of her, he had told himself countless times. Send her away. Yet his body betrayed him, responding to her presence as if she were a command he could not refuse. It was infuriating.
He walked deeper into the castle, getting swallowed by the silence. Well, until he heard laughter.
He slowed down.
More laughter sounded, soft and feminine, followed by the clinking of glasses.
What is happening?
William had paused by now, his eyebrows rising slightly as the wind carried another sound.
He knew he should have kept walking. He wanted nothing more than solitude and the burn of drink to calm his racing mind. Yet he was curious. Not about the voices, for he already knew that only a Dunrath could be so bold as to act in such a manner in the castle. But he was curious to know which.
His feet began to move, and soon, he found himself following the sound. Until he arrived in the corridor that opened onto the back of the castle, where moonlight spilled freely. The fountain behind shimmered, its water catching the silvery light.
Avery and Rhea sat nearby, looking like they were having the best time of their lives.
William watched them. The sisters leaned close, their heads bent together, their shoulders brushing as they laughed.
For a moment, the sight unsettled him more than he had expected. They looked… happy.
His fingers curled slowly at his side.
Why wouldn’t they be happy? They had never experienced betrayal from their flesh and blood. They had not lost their parents at the same time because of family. They had not been forced to grow up before they were ready.
The thought continued to fester, burning hot until his chest tightened. Until his knuckles whitened. Then he exhaled, as though reminding himself to always focus on the target.
It was hard to admit, but his cousins were innocent. The oldest had been a baby when his uncle had usurped the title.
Ye cannae force it. Ye cannae force hatred where it doesnae belong.
His hand loosened. The anger had faded, replaced by exhaustion. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting away from his cousins.
She was not there.
Sorcha.
That realization evoked mixed feelings. Relief and disappointment. And it was enough to bring him back to his senses.
He had no business seeking her out at this hour. None at all. He should turn back now. Go to his chamber. Drink. Sleep. Forget—
“Is that the Laird?”
He froze.
His body reacted long before his mind did. His breath caught in his lungs, as though he had been struck.
That voice… he would recognize it anywhere. Clear. Strong. Wrapped in something warm that slid under his skin far too easily.
And then there was the scent. Soft. Familiar. The same one that haunted his nights.
William turned slowly to find Sorcha standing a few steps away, beams of moonlight falling over her like a blessing.
She stared back at him as if he were not real, as if he might vanish if she blinked. Her hair was loose and flowing around her shoulders, the red hue contrasting with her pale skin.
His eyes lowered slightly, taking note of her nightgown, which made his throat turn dry.
The fabric wrapped around her body enticingly.
The material was too thin, barely shielding her erect nipples, barely covering her mound.
It revealed more than it hid, stirring memories he had no right to revisit.
Before he could help it, his fingers curled again. Not with anger this time, but with restraint.
Shite.
Distance had done nothing. The few days he had spent away from the castle were almost useless. If anything, it had made his longing worse.
Her brown eyes were searching his face, wide and bright. Her lips parted slightly, as if she meant to speak but had forgotten how or what to say.
He saw everything. Even the way her chest rose with slow, deep breaths. And he wanted it. Desired it.
Before he could do something stupid, he straightened, schooling his features into something more neutral. Something safe. But his body did not listen. His heart was still pounding as hard as ever.
She was devastating. Too tempting. And once again, painful realization dawned on him.
Staying away from her would always be useless, because wanting her was no longer a choice.
In the silence, Sorcha blinked slowly, as though pulling herself back from a place far away.
“When did ye return?” she asked softly.
Her voice was not loud. It didn’t need to be. It would reach him anyway, slide under his skin with ease.
William opened his mouth to answer, but then he stopped. Something about her was… off.
He studied her more closely now, allowing himself the indulgence he had denied since turning around.
Her eyes seemed to glow brighter tonight. Not with something warmer, but with something looser. Something more carefree. Moonlight stroked her face, making her beauty even more ethereal.
Saints preserve me.
His gaze lowered without permission.
Her stance wasn’t steady. It was subtle, but still there. She was swaying slightly, as though the ground wasn’t level. Or her feet could not decide whether to stay still or not.
She almost stumbled, slapping her palm quickly against the wall for support. Then she dropped her hand, before letting out a low laugh.
William’s eyebrows squeezed with confusion. What was going on with her?
There could only be one explanation.
“Have ye been drinking?” he asked, before he could stop himself.
She ignored him. Instead, she stepped closer. Too close.
Her steps were quick, as if she couldn’t wait to bridge the space between them.
“I asked ye something,” she said, blinking up at him with plain curiosity. “When did ye return?”
She was talking, but all he could focus on was her scent—sweet, dark, and familiar.
Wine.
Now he understood why she was acting that way. Standing in the middle of a dim corridor wouldn’t help her situation.
“Sorcha—” he began.
She moved again, recklessly. She was still struggling to keep her balance, her foot slipping in a way that made her body tilt sideways.
William stepped forward without thought, his arm locking around her waist. He stopped her fall with effortless strength.
Even in her condition, it left her breathless. The sight was tempting.
He was supposed to let go now, but he pulled her in instead. Close enough until her breasts pressed against his hard chest, until her warmth seeped through his clothes. He could sense the slight tremor she tried to hide. It was like a needy gasp that echoed between them.
Sorcha lifted her chin slowly to look into his eyes. The scent of wine was stronger now, mixed with her natural sweetness. Heady and intoxicating.
William did not release her, not when he could feel her body soften in his hold, as though begging him to take more. It made his fingers twitch, slightly grazing the swell of her hip.
He fought the urge to pull her closer until she could feel his growing arousal.
“Ye’re unsteady,” he stated quietly. “I wasnae gone long enough for ye to pick up drinking habits.”
She laughed again, the sound more careless. And then, deliberately, she stepped back, slipping free of his grasp.
The loss of contact hit him harder than he had expected, leaving his body throbbing with need. He watched her carefully, frowning as she spun once again. She let out a louder laugh.
What has come over her?
She lifted her arms as though she was dancing to music that only she could hear.
“What’s wrong with ye?” William was forced to ask, confusion lacing his voice.
She faced him again. Her pupils were blown, and she swayed her hips with a deliberate sensuality that made his mouth go dry.
“They say that drinking late makes it easier,” she said, her voice lowering. “Easier to speak with the unseen.” She leaned in, close enough that he could smell her again. “And to get possessed.”
Those last words made his eyebrows draw together in concern. Whatever she had just said obviously made no sense. Yet the deliberate way she moved made him suspect this was not just about drinking.
He took a step closer, his brown eyes studying her. Her laughter came too easily, her plump lips flashing the prettiest smile.
Despite it all, he was beginning to suspect that she was doing this on purpose. She wasn’t drunk.
“Sorcha?!” Rhea’s strong voice cut into his thoughts.
“Me Lady?!”
“Where did the wine go? We have more wine to drink!”
His cousins shouted in the distance, clearly searching for Sorcha. But he wasn’t ready to let her go back to them. He told himself it was because he didn’t want her to indulge in more alcohol. Though deep down, he knew he just craved more of her company.
Absolutely nae.
He shook his head.
Turning back to Sorcha sharply, he grabbed her wrist before she could move.
She gasped softly, but he didn’t give her enough time to protest. He was already pulling her along with him into the darkest part of the corridor, where the moonlight didn’t shine as brightly.
At least there, she couldn’t be seen. Well, except for her nightgown, which glowed softly in the dim light.
When he was sure his cousins wouldn’t find them, William inhaled slowly, steadying himself.
“What is this madness?” he demanded in a low voice. “Sneaking around half-pished in the dead of night?” His tone sharpened. “Do ye ken how impossible it will be to find ye a suitor if ye insist on acting like this?”
William knew how much she detested those words, so he expected fire, challenge. Yet, her fingers moved slowly and curiously, growing bolder by the second, until they slid under his cloak and brushed his chest.
Her fingertips traced the ridges of his abdomen slowly, sending a shiver down his spine. His lashes fluttered, his eyes darkening with lust.
He was not sure of what exactly she was doing, but he realized just how easy it was for her to hold power over him with a single touch.
“Ye’re missin’ something,” she finally said.
He swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure which to focus on, her hands or her voice.
“What?” he asked hoarsely, fighting the urge to slide his fingers down her waist possessively.
Her lips curled into a wicked smile. “That’s why I act this way.”
Her other hand joined the first, both palms resting flat against his chest. She explored his skin, her nails lightly scraping in a way that made him groan low in his throat. He felt every graze, every caress, as if she were trying to commit him to memory.
“I daenae want to marry anyone else,” Sorcha whispered.
She paused, letting her fingers trail dangerously close to the waistband of his breeches.
“I’ll only marry ye.”
Silence fell over them, so thick that William could hear his own heartbeat.
Was it the drink? A delusion? Or a truth that just fought for freedom?
He did not know. How could he? All he knew at that moment was how much those words burned.
Danger, his mind screamed at him. She’s danger.
Yet he remained standing in front of her, trapping her against the wall, with his thigh wedged between her legs.
His tongue swept over his lower lip slowly. She was still stroking him, slowly undoing him.
God, he wanted her to feel the same way. He wanted to kiss her, to slide his hands under her gown and feel her wetness, to make her moan and beg for more.
“Sorcha…” Her name slipped past his lips, rough and desperate.
He slowly bent his head, inch by inch, until he could almost taste her. Until he could almost feel the tremor in her lips.
But then he stopped suddenly.
This was wrong. All of it. She was the most dangerous thing he had ever had to face.
Sucking in a sharp breath, William stepped back, which seemed to break the spell.
His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Ye should sleep.”
He did not wait to see her reaction. He had already turned and walked away, even though his mind replayed things he could have done to her if only he hadn’t resisted.