Chapter 27
William.
That was the name that stirred both her mind and body into consciousness. It was the same name that filled her dreams.
The memory of the wicked things his hands had done to her replayed in her mind over and over. He had watched her lips part with shaky breaths, watched her arch into him with desperate need. But then he stopped. Simply stopped. And his restraint was somehow what tortured her the most.
She turned her face into the pillow and inhaled deeply.
Sigh.
His scent was everywhere. Smoke, leathersmoke and something uniquely his.
It reminded her of how his scent had filled her nostrils as she whimpered into his kiss, rocking up against him for more friction. And God, she had been desperate. However, she had not begged. Not yet.
William had seen it all, leaving her trembling, wet, and aching.
Sorcha pressed her thighs together, pushing away the thought. It was too early for that.
Her eyes darted around. Stone walls. Tall windows. Heavy drapes.
William’s chamber.
Suddenly, voices rose from the courtyard below. It was enough to jolt her fully awake.
She bolted upright, the covers sliding down her arms. She looked around again. Something wasn’t right. Or perhaps something was missing.
The bed beside her was empty and cold.
Instantly, a strange disappointment rose in her chest, along with the fear that she had somehow made a mistake.
She rose slowly, putting on the robe she had worn the night before.
“William?” she called softly, but no reply came.
She moved across the room quietly, her feet bare on the stone floor. Her gaze continued to wander, settling on old landscapes of the Highlands, shelves lined with books, a sword resting on the far wall like something sacred.
Everything reminded her of him—strength, control, solitude. But beneath it all, something restless lurked.
She traced her fingers along the edge of a side table absentmindedly. She couldn’t help but wonder whether everything would end between them. Would William not return to her?
A distant bell rang then.
Breakfast.
The sound made her blink, surprised by how late it must be. Right on cue, her stomach gave the most unladylike growl.
“Well,” she murmured to herself, “that settles it.”
She would find him in the Great Hall, surely.
The thought steadied her, even if momentarily.
After smoothing her hair, she schooled her features into calm and left the chambers that were beginning to feel too intimate.
The corridors gleamed as she made her way through the castle. Servants moved around her, their eyes flicking toward her with open curiosity.
She knew what they were thinking: why was the late Laird’s wife coming out of the new Laird’s chamber? Yet she ignored them as best as she could, keeping her chin high, her stride steady.
She was almost at the entrance to the Great Hall when she collided with something solid. Or rather, someone.
“Oh!” she gasped, stepping back.
“Sorcha.”
That voice.
Immediately, she looked up. And there he was. Caelan.
Her cousin stood before her, tall and broad-shouldered. His fair hair was slightly unkempt, as if he had run his hands through it one too many times.
He was, she noted absently, handsome in a quiet way. He did not even seem aware of it. But today, there was no easy humor on his face. He looked… concerned.
No, more than that. He looked troubled.
“Well,” she said carefully, offering a small smile, “good morning to ye too.”
His gaze searched her face, sharp and assessing, as though trying to read something in the lines of her face.
Sorcha instantly knew what this was about. Of course. His overprotective side was taking over now.
She sighed inwardly, already bracing herself. She knew what he would ask. She had prepared for it the moment she woke up in William’s bed.
Her excuse was neat and credible: after the horse race, she had felt tired, so she retired early. Alas, she couldn’t sleep, so she went riding at dawn. Alone.
Perfect.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Caelan beat her to it.
“Have ye finally succeeded in provoking the Laird?”
The strange question felt like a splash of cold water against her face. It made her freeze.
She had expected him to ask where she had come from, but not this.
“What?” she sputtered, blinking.
Caelan’s lips twitched, as though he were fighting a smile. When it finally appeared, it was small and knowing.
“Ye heard me,” he said mildly.
Provoking?
Her mind reeled.
If anything, the thought was almost laughable. Because the previous night was about far more than provoking him. If anything, it was filled with painful restraint and pleasure.
She swallowed. “I daenae ken what ye’re talkin’ about,” she said, confused.
Caelan studied her again, longer this time. He folded his arms over his chest as he tilted his head, taking in her expression, tone, and posture. His scrutiny was unnerving.
She resisted the urge to fidget.
Finally, he exhaled. “Either ye’re an excellent actress,” he said slowly, “or ye truly daenae ken.”
“Ken what?” she pressed.
He stepped aside and gestured to the doors of the Great Hall. “Why daenae ye find out yerself?” he said. “Ye’re on everyone’s lips this morning.”
Her eyebrows knitted together. “That doesnae sound comforting.”
Caelan’s smile returned, faint but unmistakably fond. “Ye never were one for comfort.”
Sorcha glanced at the doors. She could hear the murmurs from within; they rose and fell with something close to excitement and appreciation.
Whatever it was, it made her stomach tighten.
“Fine,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him.
Without another word, she moved toward the Great Hall… and whatever awaited her there.
The double doors opened.
The warm air hit her at once, followed by the delicious aroma of fresh bread, roasted meats, and honeyed oats.
It should have felt comforting, familiar. But Sorcha felt none of that.
Her mind was lagging, drifting somewhere far from breakfast, far from hunger. Instinctively, she lifted her gaze. More like something at the high table caught her eye.
William sat at the head, his back rigid, his shoulders squared like he was carved from stone. His dark hair was neatly styled, his jaw set.
As usual, his eyes were cold and distant.
Worse, he looked nothing like the man who had touched her with such tenderness the night before.
Nothing like the man who had held her as though she were something precious, something that could shatter if handled without gentleness.
Nothing like the man whose warmth she could still feel on her skin.
The contrast was almost cruel.
Sorcha went still, her fingers curling instinctively into the fabric of her dress. Her breath hitched in her throat.
“Lady Dunrath,” William announced evenly, “will be leavin’ the castle in three days’ time.”
It was not instant, the effect of those words. They struck her like a physical blow, the kind that winded and left a bruise.
For a moment, Sorcha was certain she had misheard him. Because he most definitely didn’t mean it.
Why would she leave? And in three days?
Her mind struggled to catch up as he continued. His tone remained neutral, as though he were announcing nothing more than a shift in guard duty.
“I willnae force her into another marriage, nor will I send her back to her family. Instead, she’ll be free to settle in a nearby village, where she may live as she pleases, safe, provided for, and unencumbered.”
Freedom.
The word echoed hollowly inside her.
Unencumbered.
As if she were a burden to be rid of.. And now William…
Her breath grew shallower, her heart pounding so hard she wondered if anyone else could hear it. The hall seemed to shrink around her. Suddenly, the space felt too tight, filled with people who did not matter.
At that moment, William’s gaze found her. And just like that, everything else disappeared.
The applause that had followed faded away. The approving murmurs, the pleased expressions—everything. Even Averey’s delighted cry and Rhea’s wide smile as she eagerly beckoned her over.
All of it disappeared until there was only him. Only the way his eyes locked onto hers across the hall. Only the cold distance in his stare.
He did not smile. He did not soften. He looked at her as though she were already gone.
A pain she couldn’t explain flared in her chest.
Why?
The question bounced around in her head.
Why was he looking at her like that? Why was there no warmth, no sign of affection from the man she had been with only hours ago?
How could he sit there and say those things, as though she were nothing more than a problem neatly solved? Especially after last night.
Shakily, she took a step forward. Then stopped.
She was torn between moving closer and staying where she was. She struggled with her thoughts, unsure of what decision to make.
What if he became even more cruel when she drew closer? What if he acted nothing like the man who had kissed her passionately? Like the man who had held her as though letting go might undo him? Like the man who had looked at her with something dangerously close to obsession?
Her eyebrows drew together tightly, emotions flooding her all at once. Anger, disbelief, confusion, hurt.
Her hands clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Her eyes searched his face again, desperate for something, anything. But there was absolutely nothing.
His expression was hard, almost unreadable. He sat there, aware of every emotion flickering across her face while revealing none of his own.
That was when she decided to confront him.
She would cross the hall and demand answers. Demand to know if she had imagined everything. Demand to know if she had been foolish to hope, foolish to believe that one night could mean more.
Her foot lifted. But before it could touch the floor, William rose from his seat. The movement was too sudden, too decisive, as though he had suspected her decision.
He pushed back his chair, his towering frame commanding attention. And once again, his gaze met hers.
For a heartbeat, the world went still. Then he looked away.
He turned without another word and strode toward the exit. His steps were slow, unhurried, as though all was right with the world.
Sorcha watched him go until he disappeared beyond the doors. Only then did she realize she had been holding her breath.
Air rushed out of her lungs in a shaky exhale. It happened so fast. Her vision blurred the more she blinked, but she held herself together, determined not to crumble in the middle of the hall.
Just like that? Not a word to her? No explanation? Except that he wanted her gone, in front of everyone?
She stood there, her heart splintering quietly in her chest, when arms suddenly wrapped around her.
“There ye are!” Avery chirped, taking her wrist. “Did ye hear? Ye’re free, Sorcha!”
Rhea grabbed her other hand, her grip warm and eager. “A village, can ye imagine? Nay duties, nay expectations. Just peace!”
Their voices rang happily around her, but Sorcha barely registered it all. She nodded absently, her gaze still fixed on the door William had vanished through.
Something inside her had cracked, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the sisters noticed.