Chapter 35
Dunrath Castle felt strange as Sorcha walked through it.
Whispers of bloodshed circled around. It made her realize what had happened in her absence. Her skin crawled, fingers of ice crawling up her spin as she looked around the walls.
It was absurd how love, loyalty, and trust could be destroyed in mere moments. Worse, how betrayal could come from those closest to her. Betrayal from shared laughter, from years of familiarity.
She swallowed hard, refusing to shed another tear for her cousin. Because the truth was too cruel.
She would never have imagined Caelan could do such things. Kill those men. Stain her life with death and obsession.
Her previous husbands had not fallen to fate or a curse, but to a man who viewed love as ownership.
“Daenae overthink it. Ye cannae change the past.”
The words made her breath catch. Slowly, she turned her head to Wiliam. He was still walking beside her. She had almost forgotten that, what with being lost in her thoughts.
Sunlight shone high behind him, haloing his dark head. His tall frame was like a protective shadow that shielded her from the glare. Even now, he walked slightly ahead of her, as if to protect her. As if it were instinct. As if it were destiny.
He had not released her hand since they had left the chapel. Not even once. Now, his fingers gently tightened around hers.
She had drifted again. He always noticed.
She exhaled shakily, squeezing his hand back. What they had endured would take years to recover from.
Caelan was dead now. There was a thin line between love and hate, and she would be lying if she said that she hated him. Perhaps it would come later. Perhaps with time. For now, there was only shock, the kind that lingered on her tongue like bitter poison.
William stopped, causing her to follow. He turned to face her, as if he had felt her thoughts drifting again. He lifted his other hand and placed it on her shoulder.
“Some things,” he said tenderly, “arenae meant to be carried alone, especially when ye couldnae have controlled them.”
He was doing that thing again, speaking in a tone that wrapped around her very soul like a balm.
He smiled. It wasn’t wide, it wasn’t triumphant. Just gentle, reassuring.
Sorcha’s lips curved before she even realized it. She was achingly glad to have him here. To have survived everything with him. Most of it all, to be standing in the aftermath instead of lost within it.
“Come,” he urged, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “Let us go inside.”
He led her through the corridors, his steps sure, his grip steady.
Her chamber smelled like lavender, as sweet as she remembered as though nothing had been changed since she left.. The scent struck her harder than she had expected, making her realize how close to home it felt.
She sat on the edge of the bed, weariness weighing her bones. William moved closer, approaching her slowly as though she were something precious and breakable. Every movement, each moment, felt intimate, even though he had yet to speak.
He took her hand in both of his. He squeezed her fingers gently before lifting them to his lips. The kiss he pressed there was reverent, tender.
When he looked up at her, his brown eyes were filled with a warmth she had never seen before. There was no duty, no mask to hide how he felt. He was baring himself without care, without shame.
“I was wrong,” he began quietly.
Confusion broke through her exhaustion.
“I was wrong to choose revenge over ye,” he continued. “I told meself that there would never be time for love, that it had nay place beside what I had to do.”
She inhaled deeply, before slowly shaking her head. “Ye were only avenging those ye lost.”
He stared at her face for a moment, his hands trembling slightly against her own.
“Nay.” His voice was firm but heavy with emotion. “I forgot that I could have lost ye, too. And that would have been far worse than any delayed justice.”
She melted at those words, emotions welling in her chest. Without thinking, she lifted both hands to cup his face. Her thumbs stroked his cheekbones, memorizing every inch of his skin.
At the end of the day, he was just a man who had been forced to grow up too quickly. Despite his pain, despite the title and responsibilities, she could still see the boy behind his eyes.
She leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. Then lower, to press one to the tip of his nose. And finally, his lips.
She kissed him softly, languorously, pouring her love into him. It felt like coming home.
“I am just glad to have ye here with me,” she whispered. “That is enough.”
His breath shuddered out of him, tickling her lips. Then he gave her a smile. It was the most genuine, devastating thing she had ever seen.
He raised one hand to her cheek, brushing away a tear she had not felt falling. The air between them grew warm, almost making her forget everything they had lost.
He took her hands and squeezed them tenderly.
“I want to ken that love,” he confessed, making her stomach flutter. “The one only ye have shown me. I want to feel it, always.”
He drew in a deep breath, as though his words had risen from the depths of his heart. And they really did. Sorcha felt it, heard it, saw it. In his touch. In his words. In his gaze.
“I want ye to give me a chance,” he went on. “I want ye to give me yer forever, me Lady.”
Sorcha blinked rapidly with surprise. She would have clapped her hands over her mouth to suppress a cry if he hadn’t been holding them. Still, her vision blurred.
“I want ye to make me the happiest man alive,” William finished, his voice barely steady, “by marrying me.”
Her heart soared. Yet she wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. She had been proposed to before, but none had felt like this. It was a proposal born not of duty, not of necessity, but of love.
She gave a wet laugh. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she shook her head. She had never imagined this, never believed she could have it all without the fear of the curse following her. But there it was.
William was her soulmate. She felt it as surely as she felt her own heartbeat.
“Of course,” she breathed. “I will marry ye, William.”
His expression faltered, giving way to radiant joy. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, his lips tasting the salt of her tears. Then, his mouth moved to her ear.
“I love ye, Sorcha,” he whispered. “From the very first moment I laid eyes on ye, I’ve loved ye.”
She wasn’t even sure what to do or say. All she could think of was wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight.
And as he held her, she knew it—his embrace was everything she had ever needed.