Chapter 23
The sound of approaching footsteps made Sorcha’s heart soar with hope.
Finally.
Relief washed over her, replacing the worried frown on her face. She straightened her posture and twisted around, expecting to see familiar brown eyes and the tall figure that had always entranced her.
But when she lifted her head, it was not William she saw. The warmth in her chest vanished in an instant, replaced by a chill that ran straight down her spine.
Keegan stood before her. His presence evoked unwanted memories. The dance floor. His hands on her waist. His creepy smile.
Saints above, why is this man here?
The sight of him made unease coil in her gut. And that smarmy smile of his, one that always assumed victory, made her nerves bristle with displeasure.
Reluctantly, Sorcha rose from the bench. She cast her eyes around, instinctively searching for William.
Where is he?
But all she saw were unfamiliar faces under the lantern light. There was no sign of him.
Keegan noticed.
“Ye must be lookin’ for the Laird,” he said smoothly, amusement lacing his voice.
How is that any of yer business?
She swallowed down those words. Forced calm. Forced patience. Though her patience was running thin.
Instead of answering, she lifted her chin and asked, “Are ye here to enjoy the fair, then?”
Keegan laughed.
She hoped that he could hold a decent conversation with such laughter. It made her skin prickle. Not because it was loud, but because it carried something mocking beneath it. As though he found the entire situation amusing in a way only he understood.
“Of course, I came to enjoy the fair,” he replied. “And then I caught sight of yer beauty from afar.”
Sorcha rolled her eyes before she could stop herself.
Please, give me a break.
Keegan’s brow creased, as if he sensed the thought. He tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle he already believed solved.
“Daenae flatter me,” she said coolly. “I’m glad ye stopped to say hello, but I’ll be on me way now.”
She stepped past him. But almost immediately, he moved in front of her, blocking her path.
That had been deliberate and calculated. His smile thinned, and his eyes darkened with satisfaction, glinting with… something.
Whatever it was, it made her stomach churn.
“Ye promised me a dance the next time we met,” he reminded her, his voice dripping with false sweetness. “Or did ye forget? The Laird had cut short our… romance.”
Romance.
The word made bile rise in her throat.
Before she could respond—this time she wouldn’t be so nice—familiar footsteps approached.
She gasped softly before looking up.
William.
A wave of relief crashed over her, such that she almost cried. The tension in her shoulders eased, her breath catching as his tall frame came into view. For one brief second, the world felt right again.
Then she saw his face.
Whatever warmth he had shown earlier was gone. In its place was something colder. Sharper. He looked every inch the Laird now. Controlled, dangerous, unreadable.
She wondered if something had happened while he had been away. Or perhaps the sight of Keegan near her was the cause.
William drew to a stop beside her. He was close enough now, right where he had been earlier. Right where she could feel the heat of him even without him touching her.
She was looking at him, but he wasn’t. His eyes were assessing, and they were fixed on Keegan.
Keegan’s smile widened. “Well,” he drawled, glancing between them, “looks like I was right to wonder who invited such beauty to the fair.”
He fixed his gaze on William, confidence oozing from his pores.
“I was just saying that ye must’ve brought Lady Dunrath here in the hope of finding her a suitor.” He paused, his knowing smile widening further. “Surely ye wouldnae try to court yer late uncle’s wife.”
He laughed again, loud and pleased with himself, like a man savoring an old joke shared over too much drink.
Sorcha’s heart lurched.
Late uncle’s wife.
The words echoed cruelly. Was that all she was seen as?
She did not look at Keegan then. The man had displayed enough stupidity in one night. Rather, her gaze drifted to William.
Surely he wouldn’t agree. They were here to spend some time together and not to find her a suitor. Right?
His expression hadn’t changed. Well, not outwardly. But he fixed Keegan with a look that suggested he understood exactly what the man was trying to do.
And Sorcha… she could only hope that Keegan was wrong.
It could not be true. William had said nothing about suitors, nothing about duty or expectation, since they had arrived. He had laughed with her. Played games with her. Watched her like her joy mattered.
Had it all been a mistake?
The noise of the fair grew louder, but Sorcha barely paid attention. All she could feel was the tension in her chest.
Finally, William’s gaze slid to her, as if being dragged by something heavy.
In that fragile moment, Sorcha hoped foolishly that he would refute Keegan’s statement. That he would scoff. Correct him. End it. But then he turned back to Keegan.
“There’s something foolish in yer words,” William said quietly.
Sorcha was already pleased to hear that. But when he spoke again, her heart sank.
“Why would I engage in such?” He paused. “We’re here for one thing only: to find her a suitor.”
Those words struck her like cold water, splashing across her face mercilessly.
She wasn’t sure what to do or say at first. Her breath hitched sharply. She blinked once, twice, her lashes fluttering as if that would somehow change what she had heard.
So that’s all I am. A task. A duty. That’s what this is.
She felt pathetic for having raised her hopes too high.
Keegan laughed again. And this time, the sound scraped against her nerves more sharply than it ever had.
“Then I hope I make the count,” he said easily, his smug gaze flicking to her. “Wouldnae want to disappoint.”
Sorcha curled her fingers into her skirts. She watched Keegan walk away without looking back. His steps were easy with that careless confidence of his. God, how that man got under her skin.
But she did not have the time to hate him right now because William was still there.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to him slowly.
He was watching her. Not distantly, not guardedly, but intently.
Her lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. Only a gasp escaped her at first. It felt as though heat was taking a stroll up her throat, preventing her words from coming out.
“Ye are so… impossible,” she managed, glad of her choice of words. The more she spoke, the more her voice wavered, but she did not stop. “For a moment, I thought—” She swallowed. “I thought I could trust ye.”
Her eyes burned, not with tears, but with something sharper.
“But thankfully,” she continued, her emotions swelling fast, “ye reminded me exactly why I shouldnae.” Her shoulders shook. “Ye betrayed me.”
At that, something flickered in his eyes. She saw it far too clearly.
William stepped closer until the space between them shrank. Her breathing quickened as his shadow fell over her. However, her feet were rooted to the spot. She straightened her back.
He was close enough that she could see the tick in his jaw, the storm brewing behind his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.
“What in the hell do ye ken about betrayal?”
The words struck her so hard.
For a moment, she said nothing. She only stared up at him, her heart pounding against her ribs. She couldn’t believe him. After everything she had thrown at him, that was all he had to say?
She lifted her chin. Clearly, the word ‘betrayal’ evoked his past. She hadn’t meant to conjure dark memories, but she had a point to prove.
“At least I ken enough nae to become one,” she spat out.
Then she turned on her heel, not waiting for his answer. Her skirts swished as she stormed away.
“If it’s a suitor ye and me precious faither want so badly,” she threw over her shoulder, “then I will get one!”
She shoved her way through the crowd, her chest burning. She had had enough of men dictating her life, as if it revolved around nothing but marriage.
“And I promise,” she hissed under her breath, “I’ll cause ye all a great deal of trouble.”
She laughed then. The distance between them was growing, but then she paused in the middle of the crowd, far enough so that she wouldn’t feel his pull. Several pairs of eyes swiveled toward her, curious.
“At least he willnae mind that I’m a widow!” she called out, her chest heaving. “Unlike ye!” She paused to let out a dry chuckle. “And I’ll start with a kiss!”
Sorcha did not wait to see his reaction. He might not even care anyway. Quickly, she spun away and moved further through the crowd. A reckless, wild feeling was growing within her.
I will show him. I will show him that I am nae some object he can push around.
Her eyes darted around. She fully intended to kiss a stranger; she just needed a perfect-looking one.
Then she saw him. A man seated by the fountain, gently playing a harp. His head was bowed, his fingers calm and steady.
Peaceful? Safe? Perfect.
Without wasting time, she walked up to him. He raised his head and, upon seeing her, asked if she wanted him to play a different song.
But instead of answering, she asked, “Would ye mind a kiss?”
The man stopped playing. His mouth dropped open. He looked confused at first, his eyes flicking over her dress, her hair, her flushed cheeks. But then something flickered in his gaze. Something Sorcha recognized as curiosity. Or was it glee?
But before he could speak, a tall shadow fell over them. Sorcha already knew who it was without turning to look.
Suddenly, the instrument was snatched and tossed into the fountain. It hit the water with a loud splash.
Sorcha gasped and whirled around. William stood there, fury carved into every line of his body.
“How about ye go fetch yer tool,” he said coldly to the stunned musician, “instead of kissing strangers.”
The man did not argue. He simply backed away, more interested in saving his instrument.
Sorcha rounded on William, her eyes blazing. “What is yer problem, me Laird?” She stepped toward him, as if that was the only way to let him feel her anger. “I’m doing exactly what ye asked for, and ye keep getting in the way—”
She did not finish. She couldn’t. For William bent, hooked his arm under her knees in one possessive motion, and threw her over his shoulder.
Sorcha yelped. Her hands slammed against his back, raining blows on him, but none of it seemed to faze him.
“William!”
He did not slow down. He did not answer. He carried her straight to the carriage, ignoring every stare. Once inside, the door slammed shut behind them, hiding them from the rest of the world.
Sorcha wriggled off him with a huff. Her heart raced as she glared daggers at him.
“What is wrong with ye?!” she cried. “Why are ye sabotagin’ me?”
William turned toward her slowly. His voice was calm, but she could sense the leashed anger beneath it. “Because ye’re meant to be a wife, nae hunting kisses like a—”
She shook her head sharply, cutting him off. “What if ye see it that way because ye’re jealous?”
Silence ensued, so thick and heavy that even the carriage wheels rattled. Still, William didn’t respond. His eyes bored into hers, but she refused to be intimidated by him.
Then, with a heavy breath, he tore his gaze away.
“Daenae be delusional,” he said slowly. “In the end, ye’re still the usurper’s wife.”
Coming from him, and not from Keegan this time, it landed deep. Deeper than before. It hurt so much that her shoulders hunched inward.
She turned her face away, her lips pressing together. She did not speak again.
The rest of the journey passed in silence.