Chapter 29
Sorcha’s mind was made up.
If William wished to keep avoiding her, if he chose silence over conversation, distance over truth, then she would not stay where she was clearly unwanted.
Especially not after what had happened between them. Especially not after he had touched her like she mattered, only to discard her the next morning as though she were an inconvenience neatly resolved.
She would leave him but she would also tell him about the intruder. She needed to protect not just her heart but her life as well.
That decision was what she was thinking about when a knock sounded at her chamber door.
She turned around. Foolishly, a big part of her hoped that it was him behind the door.
But then Caelan stepped inside.
Though she was disappointed, she still felt relief. Her cousin’s presence had always been comforting.
Despite everything that had happened, despite the hurt, the quiet humiliation of being dismissed without a word, she was grateful to have family nearby.
Caelan’s presence encouraged her in a way nothing else could. As he always did, he looked every bit the overprotective cousin who had spent half of his life scolding her and the other half worrying himself sick over her.
But tonight, he did not look happy. Concern was written clearly all over his face, etched deep into his brow. Still, he managed a smile, one that was meant to comfort her more than himself.
“The horse is ready,” he said quietly. “We’ll set off at dawn, when most folks are asleep. It will draw less attention.”
Sorcha released a slow breath she had not realized she had been holding and nodded. “Aye,” she murmured. “That sounds wise.”
Caelan gave a short nod and turned to leave, as though lingering might make their plan harder for both of them. But then she stopped him.
“Caelan,” she called softly.
He paused and turned back, his eyebrows rising in question.
Sorcha set the small bundle in her hands on the table and slowly crossed the space between them. When she finally stood before him, she wrapped her arms around him.
Caelan stiffened at first, clearly startled. They were cousins who bickered more than they embraced. He had always acted more like an irritable older brother than anything else. But after a moment, his arms wound around her.
“Thank ye,” she said quietly against his shoulder. “For everything. I ken I daenae say it enough.”
He huffed a breath, then lifted his hand to pat her hair awkwardly. “Ye’re a stubborn lass,” he said, his voice gentler than his words. “But ye’re me stubborn lass. Get ready. We should leave as soon as we can. This place… it doesnae feel safe any longer.”
Sorcha nodded, pulling back. “I will.”
Caelan stared at her for a second longer, before turning around and leaving. The door clicked softly behind him.
In a couple of hours, the evening began to settle across the sky in shades of purple and gold.
Sorcha had finished packing. Her chamber was now almost bare. It looked almost the way it had when she had first arrived—cold, unclaimed, as though she had never truly belonged there at all.
Now that she thought about it, she really didn’t.
Just then, her gaze landed on something she had yet to pack: the robe she had worn on the night she had been at her most vulnerable. She had folded it neatly on the bed. It looked innocent in appearance, but the memory attached to it was most treacherous.
Heat bloomed between her legs before she could stop it.
She remembered William’s hands. His mouth. The way he had looked at her as though she were something he wanted but feared touching. The way his fingers had worshiped her curves.
But the longer she stared at the robe, the hotter her anger flared.
No. She would not carry it with her. She would not bring memories of William into whatever future awaited her.
“Ye’re nae comin’ with me,” she muttered, gripping the fabric. “I willnae carry painful memories.”
With the robe clenched in her hand, she left her chamber. Her steps echoed through the quiet corridor. She reached the hearth at the far end of the hall, where the fire burned bright.
She did not hesitate. She drew in a deep breath and tossed the robe into the flames. The fabric caught almost instantly, blackening as the fire devoured it.
The glow reflected the satisfaction in her eyes. Because deep down, she knew this was not just fabric burning. The sight of it made a tear spill over before she could stop it. She brushed it away roughly.
She was stronger than this. She must be.
“Goodbye, William,” she whispered.
With another breath, she turned… and drew to a halt.
Goodness. It was almost creepy.
William stood before her. Talk. Still. Devastatingly handsome.
Seeing him this close for the first time since he had made his announcement made her heart clench painfully.
However, his eyes were not on her. Not yet. They were fixed on the fire behind her. On the burning remnants of her robe.
The flames danced in his eyes, making them darken further. Darken into something irresistible.
Just like that, her body betrayed her. Dangerous heat pooled low between her thighs.
But she refused to let him see it. She had burned the proof of her weakness. She would not crumble now.
Without sparing him a single glance, without waiting for him to look at her face, Sorcha stepped forward and moved past him as quickly as she could before her heart failed her.
She almost believed she was succeeding.
She had put a good distance between them. Her spine was straight, her chin lifted. She was focused on the stone floor ahead, ready to escape the temptation he came with. She was almost free of him.
And then, right on time, he shattered her hope.
“Isnae it such a waste?” he asked, his voice low and maddeningly calm. “Destroyin’ something so fancy.”
She stopped dead.
Those words… they made her chuckle. A dry, humorless sound that surprised even her.
His audacity stunned her. He had ignored her for days. He had announced her departure to the entire clan without so much as a warning or an explanation. He had stripped her of everything. Even choice. Dignity.
And now he dared to speak because she burned a piece of cloth?
Comical.
Still, she wouldn’t snap. She drew in a slow breath, composing herself.
Daenae react. That is what he wants.
She resumed walking. Her steps were quicker now, more urgent. She would not give him the satisfaction of a glance. She would not fold. But then, without warning, his footsteps caught up, sounding sharp and clear behind her.
He closed the distance between them easily. And before she could react, his hand closed around hers.
That did it.
She opened her mouth to shout, to demand that he let her go. But the words died instantly in her throat.
Because she felt it. Something pressed into her palm, soft, cool, and delicate.
Her breath faltered. Slowly, she lowered her gaze to her hand. And what she saw made everything around them fade away.
Nestled against her skin was the most dainty necklace she had ever seen. Fine gold catching the firelight. It was the same set she had admired at the fair. The same set she had wished to buy but could not afford. And now, it lay in her palm.
She couldn’t help the warmth that spread through her chest. It nearly made her knees buckle.
Her fingers gently traced the shape, as though it were something magical.
“This…” she trailed off.
She turned back to face him. By now, she couldn’t hide the vulnerability in her features.
“Was that what ye went to get,” she asked softly, “when ye told me to wait? Before Keegan showed up?”
William did not answer at once. He watched her intently.
His expression was composed as ever, but something simmered beneath the surface. It felt raw, seeking to break free, like a long-suppressed emotion.
Eventually, he nodded. It was brief, but it was enough. It answered all her questions.
“Aye,” he said.
Her breath shuddered out of her.
“I thought it would look good with yer pretty robe,” he added evenly. “Unfortunately…” He gave a small shrug. “It’s gone now.”
Sorcha swallowed hard.
She hated this. She hated how a simple gesture could undo her so completely. Hated how easily he knocked down the walls she had built, how her resolve shattered under the weight of something so thoughtful, so intimate.
This was not carelessness. This was attention. Fondness. Want.
Her fingers trembled around the jewels. Helpless, not knowing what to do with all the emotions roiling inside her, she lifted her fists to hit his chest.
“Why?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “Why do ye do this to me?”
She hit him again, harder this time, the sound dull against his broad frame.
“Why do ye touch me as if I matter,” she choked out, “then send me away like I’m nothing?”
Her blows were coming faster now. Each was driven by hurt more than anger, leaving her drained. But he barely moved, as though her punches were like feathers grazing his skin.
His hands rose to stop hers, eyes softening as he looked at her.
“Enough,” he said quietly, eyeing her hands.
Though it was a command, his tone was gentle. And the softness nearly broke her.
Tears blurred her vision. This was foolish, she knew. But her emotions already swelled too much for her to pretend.
It was confusing. She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. But more than anything, more than pride, more than sense, she wanted him to hold her.
William stood there, watching her with such intensity that it made her breath hitch. His eyes searched hers as though he could read something deep beneath the surface.
Then he stepped closer. So close that there was no space left between them. His hand slid from her wrist to her back. Then, he pulled her against him.
Sorcha found herself pressed against his chest, his heat seeping into her bones.
That was all it took.
She shattered.
A shudder racked her body; every nerve was calling out for him. She melted into him, her arms rising of their own accord to wrap around him.
She clung to him like the air she needed to breathe, her fingers curling into his coat.
She was aware of everything. Aware of the rapid beat of his heart beneath her ear, aware of the strength of his arms that held her so securely, aware of his… growing arousal.
Her desire flared in response, heat curling deep in her core.
Love.
She loved him. She did not know when it had begun. Only that it was there. And it was fierce and all-consuming.
She didn’t know why it possessed her so much, but she couldn’t control herself. She was far too gone to care about dignity, pride, or… whatever else.
Her lips parted with a shaky breath.
“I want ye,” she whispered. “I want ye to take me tonight.” She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining. “Before I leave by midnight.”