Chapter 26
Nothing compared to the relief of finding out the truth when the lie had been your worst tormentor. It was written plainly all over William’s face.
Right now, standing before her was just a man ready to be vulnerable, to open up. The careful mask he usually wore was gone. Even his distant calm, which he used to keep the world at bay, wasn’t present.
This William was showing her so many emotions without restraint, without reservation. He was almost frightening in his honesty.
Sorcha wasn’t exactly sure what to call how he felt after finding out that she had never loved his uncle.
Curiosity flickered first. Then surprise followed. But before it settled, confusion tangled with something that looked dangerously close to hope. He looked like a man who had been handed something fragile and bright, unsure whether to touch it or fear it would vanish.
Sorcha’s heart ached at the sight.
The room had grown even quieter, the only sound the soft bubbling of the water. She was painfully aware of how close they stood, of his warmth, of the way she leaned into him.
Despite everything, despite the sorrow clinging to her heart, a soft laugh slipped past her lips. One that surprised her.
William lowered his gaze to her face at the sound, clearly not expecting such levity to survive the moment.
“How… adorable,” she murmured before she could stop herself.
The word felt strange on her tongue in such a heavy moment, but it was accurate. For all his brooding nature, he looked almost boyish right then.
William inhaled slowly, steadying himself.
“So ye never loved him?” he asked quietly.
The question carried so much more than curiosity. It also carried hope, relief, and even fear of disappointment.
His brown eyes searched her face, and the glint in them told her that her answers could either free him or break him all over again.
“Is that what ye’re tellin’ me, Sorcha?”
She did not hesitate.
“Aye,” she answered softly. “I never loved him.”
His breath caught.
“As I said,” she continued in the same tone, “I barely kent him.”
She drew in a deep breath, her heart pounding hard enough that she could feel it in her throat.
For a moment, William did not move. Did not speak. He simply stared at her, as though something about the world had changed. For the better, of course.
Sorcha watched as realization dawned on him. It was overwhelming, slow. His posture relaxed, as if the tension in his shoulders had eased. His jaw flexed slightly. Not in anger, but in restraint.
He took a step closer. Then another.
Sorcha wished that the space between them would disappear faster. His hands rose until his fingers brushed the side of her face.
The touch was brief, but it was enough to send shivers through her. Enough to make her heart beat faster.
God, she had missed this. Had missed him.
Even standing away from him earlier had felt like torture. Now that he was here, touching her like this, it was almost unbearable.
His finger slid beneath her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Take it off,” he said, his voice hoarse.
The command was unmistakable.
“The robe,” he added, his voice rougher now. “Just like ye put it on earlier.”
Sorcha knew exactly what he was doing. He was taking back control. Turning her earlier defiance into her undoing.
The thought sent a thrill through her.
Instead of obeying, she stepped closer, folding her arms. Her covered breasts brushed against his naked chest in the process. She heard his sharp intake of breath at the contact.
“Take it off yerself,” she whispered, her lips curling into a slow, taunting smile. “If ye want me that badly.”
The words had barely left her mouth when his other hand dropped, gripping the fabric firmly. In one swift motion, he tore the robe off her.
Moonlight poured over her, revealing every curve she had hidden moments before. Her round hips, her narrow waist.
His eyes swept over her, this time with no apology, no restraint. He looked at her as though she were something rare and sacred, something that belonged to him alone.
He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “Yer beauty,” he murmured, his breath warming her skin, “will be the death of me.”
With that, he gently sucked on her ear, on her neck, tracing a path to her lips.
The soft pulls made her gasp. She closed her eyes as if to memorize every playful flick of his tongue against her skin.
When he finally claimed her lips, the kiss was raw and aching and impossibly tender. The kind of kiss that broke her from deep within. The kind of kiss that wasn’t supposed to be rushed. Sorcha melted into it.
She kissed him back with equal hunger, equal need. Her hands rose to dig into his hair. She fisted the soft strands,, holding him as though letting go would hurt too much.
When he finally pulled away, both of them were breathing hard. William dipped his head, pressing his forehead against hers. He was devastating.
Sorcha stared at him, her heart pounding.
Then he leaned into her ear and whispered, “Would ye… like to take a bath with me?”
Sorcha couldn’t believe he had asked her that. Of course, she would like that. No, she would love it.
She nodded her head, and he groaned. Perhaps it was relief, hunger, or wonder.
With a smile, William bent and lifted her into his arms as though she weighed nothing. She curled into him instinctively, as though she belonged there, breathing in his scent.
He stepped down into the bath without letting go. Lukewarm water rose around their legs, waists, and chests, enveloping them.
Sorcha had barely settled into the water when his mouth crashed back onto hers, like that was the only place it belonged. She kissed him back with every tremor, every burn, every ache. It was as though she was giving him her soul.
Not wanting to let go, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her fingers tangling in his thick hair and pulling him even closer.
Their kiss grew messy, deep and wet. Greedy for more, her hands roamed down his shoulders and chest. When she reached the tie of his trousers, her fingers trembled with heavy want. She tugged it loose, pushing the heavy fabric down his hips until it sank beneath the surface.
A low groan vibrated in William’s chest as his hard length sprang free, thick, hot, and heavy.
His mouth tore from hers only to trail fire down her throat.
He sucked on her slowly, leaving marks on her skin.
First gentle, then harder, his teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp.
Each pull of his lips sent sparks straight between her legs.
Sorcha arched into him, and his hand slid lower. His fingers found her pearl beneath the water and began to draw small circles around it.
She whimpered. Damn, he knew exactly how to touch her. How to build her pleasure until her thighs shook around her hips.
She helplessly moaned into his mouth, loud and shameless. And William answered every sound with another deep kiss, his tongue stroking hers.
Water sloshed gently around them as her hips began rocking against his fingers, chasing more pleasure. Once she was teetering on the edge of release, he withdrew his hand.
Sorcha opened her eyes slowly, whimpering at the loss. But then his strong hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him. Instantly, she felt him. His thick length pressed hot and heavy between them. And then, slowly, deliberately, he began to move.
He didn’t make any attempt to push into her. Not yet, she hoped. He simply pressed his length along her wet folds, sliding it over her pearl again and again, giving her the pressure she craved without taking more.
His mouth found her breasts. He worshiped one nipple, then the other. His mouth sucked deep, his tongue swirled, and his teeth grazed just enough to make her cry out.
He lavished both breasts with wet, open-mouthed kisses, and she caught the wordless praise against her curves. All the while, his length continued to slide between her folds, teasing her entrance but never pushing in.
He was denying himself, focused only on her pleasure, on making her feel cherished, desired, undone.
Sorcha held onto him like he was air itself. Her arms locked around his neck, her legs rising to wrap tight around his waist. Her body rocked along with him, lost in the heat and tenderness with which he held her.
She wanted more. Wanted him to take his pleasure too. But it was clear that William was deliberately taking his time with her.
Her thoughts scattered when his mouth returned to her nipples. Her head fell back, loud moans spilling out of her.
She loved him. God help her, she loved him. It was too fierce. It was too deep. And it terrified her.
She kept the words buried deep inside, but her body spoke them aloud in the desperate roll of her hips, in every breathless gasp against his neck.
Tonight, in the warm water and moonlight, she was ready to give him everything. And the best part? He gave back tenfold.
William could not remember if he had ever experienced a night this gentle.
The golden light in his chamber flickered softly. The fire in the hearth crackled slightly. And there, on his great bed, lay Sorcha, sleeping as though the world had never once been cruel to her.
She was curled up against him, her red hair fanned like flames across his arm.
He noticed everything. Her body temperature. The rise and fall of her chest. Her soft breath. Everything about her left him in awe.
It made him think.
He had never believed in love. Had never been in love.
Love had always seemed like a foolish luxury, as his parents offered it in abundance only to be betrayed. But now, after so many years, Sorcha wanted to prove him wrong about love?
His hand moved of its own accord to brush a stray curl from her cheek. That wasn’t enough. He wanted to touch her more. But then a knock sounded at the door, interrupting the moment.
At that moment, William had never detested the sound of a knock so much. His jaw clenched with irritation.
Whoever stood beyond the door had chosen the worst possible moment to remember that he was the Laird, not merely a man who could be lying beside a woman who had undone him.
The knock came again.
Sorcha stirred, her brow creasing faintly, but she did not wake.
William exhaled slowly, pushing himself upright. “I will be back,” he murmured to her sleeping form.
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and then reluctantly slid out of bed. He pulled on a robe, sparing one last glance at Sorcha before moving to the door. When he opened it, he found Myles standing in the corridor, looking unusually alert for the hour.
William stepped outside immediately, closing the door behind him.
Myles raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking briefly to the door. For someone who had never been attended to, William wasn’t surprised to see the suspicion on his face. But he didn’t dignify it with a response.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice firm. “It had better be worth waking the dead.”
Myles studied him for a moment longer, his brow creasing. Eventually, duty won out. So he straightened.
“We have it,” he announced quietly. “The final piece.”
William’s eyes sharpened. “Explain.”
Myles leaned closer and lowered his voice. “The documents, the witness statements, the ledger ye asked for—it’s all secured. Names, dates, transactions. Enough to expose all three of them. Publicly. Irrefutably. And…”
“And?” he prompted.
“And,” Myles continued, a grin tugging at his mouth, “they willnae see it coming.”
William nodded slowly. It was a brilliant idea. But then unease curled in his gut.
He should have felt victorious. He should have felt satisfied. Instead, his mind flashed back to his room. To the woman asleep in his bed, unaware of how close the storm truly was.
Sorcha…
Myles eventually took his leave, but William remained where he was standing. He could almost taste victory, but there was also Sorcha now. And revenge had a way of devouring everything in its path.
He slowly turned back to the door, resting his palm against the wood as though it might steady him. With a slow exhale, he made up his mind.
He had to keep her safe. He had to send her away. Before his revenge destroyed her, too.