Chapter 25
“Ijust need one thing tonight—some quiet.”
The words left her lips on a breath as the heavy wooden door to the bathing chamber closed behind her.
Here, she was sealed away from the rest of the castle. Well, at least for now.
The warm air welcomed her the moment she stepped inside. Steam rose lazily from the water, curling along the stone walls. The perfume in the air was relaxing.
Hmm, crushed lavender and rosemary.
Rhea had been right; they smelled of horse and regret. She desperately needed a relaxing bath. The sisters had left the bathing chamber by the time she had changed her mind. She had no choice but to bathe alone.
She stood there for a moment, taking it all in. Then, she began to undress slowly. There was no rush. No one to see. No reason to hurry.
She let her gown slip down her curves until it fell to the floor, then stepped into the water. It was warm and comforting, coaxing a soft breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding all day.
The water rippled gently around her legs, her waist, her ribs, until she sank fully beneath it.
She wanted the water to piece her back together, wanted it to soothe an ache it didn’t cause.
Please, mend me.
She moved slowly through the water, though it was not deep enough to swim. Still, the motion was enough to let her stretch and feel weightless. Enough to let her forget that there was a man she could not stop thinking about. A man she could never have.
Moonlight filtered through the high window above, painting the surface of the water pale silver. It touched her skin as well, turning the steam into something almost magical.
Sorcha closed her eyes. This was what she needed: silence, warmth, space to breathe. But then the quiet was shattered.
“Is this where ye’ve been hidin’ all morning?”
That voice… it reverberated through her, such that her heart leapt violently.
Sorcha froze mid-movement, the water bubbling softly around her shoulders. She remained still, not wanting to accept reality because she had the biggest guess right now.
For just one foolish second, she considered sinking deep beneath the surface and pretending she had never heard him. But she didn’t. Instead, she rose slowly until her head broke the surface.
And instantly regretted it.
William stood near the entrance. Six feet and more of him. He was shirtless, his dark hair falling messily across his forehead as though he had run a hand through it one too many times.
The firelight behind him did even a greater job of highlighting his chest and arms, strong and lean and unmistakably real.
He was devastatingly handsome. So much so that it hurt.
It’s nae fair.
Her breath caught in her chest. Whatever heat she had felt moments ago now burned for an entirely different reason. But then she remembered her current state.
She was completely naked, and it wouldn’t take him long before realizing that. The water only covered her up to her collarbone. If he took even one step closer, if the light shifted just enough…
Nay. He must nae ken.
She would do everything she could to make him stay by the entrance.
“Stalkin’ me now?” she taunted, lifting her chin, though her pulse thundered wildly. It took all her strength to keep her voice steady.
She expected a sharp answer. A mocking one. Something smug. Instead, he said most sincerely, “I’ve been searchin’ for ye.”
Her lashes fluttered.
What?
“I havenae seen ye all day.”
He moved forward, but she was too stunned by his confession to stop him.
By now, she had stopped moving altogether. The water had stilled around her as she watched him in silence.
He was here to confuse her again; she was sure of it. And she was going to do her best to resist him.
When he was close enough, she noticed the way his eyes dropped. Not to her face, but to the surface of the water. To the skin surrounded by faint ripples.
She knew what he was thinking. She knew he was guessing. But she quickly pulled his attention back to her face.
“Why?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “To trade me off to another suitor?”
His jaw tightened.
He lifted his chin slightly and fixed his dark, unreadable eyes on her. In the low light, he looked every bit the devil people whispered about.
“I wouldnae mind,” he said.
There was no teasing in his tone. He meant every word.
Something inside her snapped. She was annoyed. Even though she had told him at the fair how much she hated conversations about suitors, he refused to drop it.
Anger burned through every attempt to stay calm. All day, she had tried to forget their argument at the fair, to convince herself that it didn’t matter. She had stayed out of the castle for most of the day to avoid him.
But goddammit, he kept on showing up. And now here he was, standing half-naked before her, speaking of suitors as if she were a task to be finished.
Oh no. She would not let him ruin this moment, either. And she would not let him leave without paying for it. She was going to punish him.
Without another thought, without giving herself time to hesitate, Sorcha rose.
The water slid down her body in rivulets, slow and shining.
The moonlight accentuated the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the shape of her thighs.
Steam clung to her like a veil, but she didn’t bother hiding herself.
William froze. His breath left him on a stunned exhale that shook his whole body.
Sorcha felt the power she had over him then. Felt how utterly unprepared he had been for this. She didn’t give him time to recover.
Without a word, she stepped past him, water dripping off her skin and landing on the stone floor. She could feel his gaze on her back, following every step she took.
She reached for her clothes and dressed quickly. Even though a storm raged inside her chest, she didn’t show it.
Finally, she turned back.
Silence reigned, thick and heated with things that were yet to be spoken aloud.
William still hadn’t moved. He stood exactly where she had left him, as though rooted to that spot. His expression had faltered, his indifferent mask gone. It was as if a part of him had been switched off entirely.
She saw it on his face first. The blankness, the stunned quiet, the way his body seemed caught between lust and thought. And she loved it. Loved it in a dark, wicked, revengeful way.
For once, he was the one undone.
She finished tying the last ribbon of her robe, then lifted her chin, her shoulders squared. Every inch of her now carried a dangerous calm.
“Enjoy yerself,” she said lightly, though her eyes flashed. “The water’s still warm. Since ye’ve already ruined me fun for the night.” She turned to leave.
“I’m nae done speakin’ to ye.”
His voice stopped her cold. It was calm, controlled, and assured. It made her turn back. Not because she wanted to listen to him, but because she wanted to snap at him.
How dare he think she should wait around just because that was what he wanted?
“Well, I am!” she snapped. “I’m done listenin’ to ye talk about suitors like I’m some chore ye’ve been saddled with. Ye’ve nay right! Nay right at all to decide that for me.”
She turned away again, fury controlling her every move. But then, a hand seized hers.
“Let me go!” she cried, her voice raw.
She felt it before it happened. She already knew he was going to do it. Yet it would never be enough to prepare her for the pull, the heat that radiated from a man like him.
William tugged her hand, forcing her to turn back. She almost knocked into his hard chest.
“And what if I daenae?” he shot back, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur.
She laughed, the sound dry and bitter, despite the pounding of her heart.
“Ye must think ye own me,” she hissed. “Ye must think I’m some leftover thing to be passed around.
” Her eyes narrowed as she glared up at him.
“I ken how much ye hate yer uncle. But it seems ye’ve taken that same hatred and laid it on me.
” Her voice rose then, shaking with fury.
“What if he wasnae the bad man? What if it is ye who should have been punished all this time?!”
William stiffened.
Sorcha saw it then, clear as day. The way her words had hit a deep, old wound.
His jaw clenched, and his grip loosened and tightened, as if he were fighting himself.
“Daenae,” he warned through gritted teeth. “Daenae speak of things ye daenae understand.” He stepped closer, his presence heavy and suffocating. “Daenae mistake rumors for history. Ye ken nothing about what happened.”
Sorcha deflated, her anger subsiding slowly. Seeing him like this, seeing how much her slip had hurt him… she felt bad.
Her anger was quickly replaced by something else. It could be hurt. Or need. Or desperation. She wasn’t sure. But she hated how broken he looked right now. How her careless words had cut him.
She stepped closer, desperate to touch him, to apologize.
“Then tell me,” she begged in a whisper.
“Tell me the truth, William, if ye daenae want me to mix it with whispers and lies.” Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
“Ye hide so much. Ye think I daenae see ye? Ye think I havenae noticed how lonely ye are? How much anger ye carry inside ye… hate, grief, revenge, all piled so deep that it’s eatin’ ye alive? ” Her voice faltered.
She wasn’t even sure of what to say next. Her emotions were building up fast, catching her off guard. She sucked in a breath, steadying herself.
William said nothing; he only watched her. But she saw the change. His fists had unclenched. His eyebrows were no longer drawn tight. Something in him had softened, just enough.
Sorcha took another step toward him. Then another. Carefully, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrists. His skin was warm against hers, solid and real.
“Talk to me, William,” she continued, her voice shaking. “I want to ken what hurt ye. Who hurt ye. Ye think me presence here will ruin everything ye’ve planned for years, but ye’re wrong. I want to help ye.” She looked up at him, her eyes shining. “But I need the truth first.”
Silence slowly settled between them. It was so fragile that even their breath could break it.
William searched her eyes, studied the way she stood before him without pride, offering him something he had never asked for but desperately needed.
“And why,” he asked quietly, “should I trust ye with pain I’ve never shared with anyone else?”
Her breath caught. Her fingers slid from his wrists to his waist, gripping him as if she might fall otherwise. Then, unable to resist, she leaned forward and rested her head against his chest. She closed her eyes, listening to the rapid beat of his heart.
“Because I ken what it feels like,” she said softly, “to watch death take people right before yer eyes.” She swallowed hard.
“Even then, I cannae imagine watchin’ yer own parents be murdered.
” She paused, breathing deeply. “But most of all, because everythin’ about ye makes me feel things I never have before. ”
Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight, desperate hug.
For a long moment, William did not move. Until he finally spoke.
“I was just a boy, Sorcha.” He said it quickly, his voice cracking with emotions that had been buried for far too long. “A peaceful night turned bloody. An uncle came with betrayal instead of kinship.”
His breathing grew ragged, and she hugged him tighter.
“I didnae understand what was going on at first,” he started. “Me mother woke me in a panic and forced me into me leathers. She said we had to leave quickly.
“I still remember how loud it had been. Me mother has always been brave but this was the first time I had seen her scared. We were running through the castles when we were happened upon by some of my uncle’s supporters.
”Grief clogged his throat but he forced the words out, needing to tell her the truth.
“They took me mother first and killed her before me faither could find us and when he did, he was too grief stricken to fight back. I daenae ken when I started to run but I did until I came to clan O’ Donell. And for a long time,” he continued quietly, “I thought survivin’ was a curse.”
Sorcha rubbed his back as he spoke, her tears spilling over. She did not interrupt. She did not ask questions. She just listened.
“But then I realized that I was given a second chance to avenge me parents when I heard of me uncle’s death.”
When he finished, silence returned.
Sorcha pulled back slowly, lifting her face to his. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her heart ached for him.
William looked down at her, and for the first time, she could see pure hurt. He wasn’t suppressing it or masking it. He just… showed himself to her.
At that moment, she decided to share the truth about her relationship with his uncle. And right now, they were separating history from rumors.
“I didnae marry yer uncle willingly,” she confessed in a shaky voice.
His eyebrows drew together in confusion.
“Me faither forced me,” she explained. “Again and again. Duty. Fear. He used them like weapons.” She swallowed. “Yer uncle died hours after our wedding. I barely kent him at all.”
The truth hung between them, slowly sinking in. William’s expression shifted, questions deepening the lines of his face.
And it was at that moment that Sorcha realized that everything they thought they knew about each other was a lie.