Instead of making her laugh, the words sent a chill down her spine.
While she wanted William gone so that she could get her home back, she did not want him dead. She never wanted to imagine his handsome face frozen in death.
The image filled her with dread, making her stomach churn.
Caelan had always had a dark sense of humor, but this joke was perhaps a little too dark. She could still hear the arguments in the background, Gregor’s deep sonorous voice distinctive amid the chaos, but she no longer cared.
Finishing her food, she muttered her thanks to the table and left, making a beeline for the sanctuary of her room. But a few hours in her bedchamber and she felt bored to tears, so she decided to step outside. Maybe seeing the girls would give her better ideas on how to avoid eviction without causing William’s death.
As she walked down the hallway, she spotted an open door. Curiosity led her there.
The room was small, much smaller than her bedchamber, and was furnished in cream and green. The dark oak table and equally dark sofas gave the room a masculine air that was tasteful and elegant. It looked like a small library but she hadn’t noticed it in the time she had been at the castle.
Perhaps the new Laird had added it on his return.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, the owner of the library was standing with his broad back to her, his muscular arms braced on the table before him, it was safe to say that she was right.
She knocked lightly to draw his attention, then stepped inside without waiting for his permission, enjoying how his eyes sharpened at her audacity. A part of her thrilled at the thought of riling him up.
“Lady Dunrath,” he greeted in his rich baritone, which failed to hide his irritation. “What brings ye here? To me private study at that. Did yer ma nae teach ye the danger of accostin’ men in their private rooms?”
“That kind of caution is taught to unmarried lasses. I have been widowed far more times than I care for, so such lectures are wasted on me,” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
“Except being a widow doesnae mean that ye arenae unmarried. Every woman can still be ravished,” he pointed out with a wolfish smile.
It should have scared her away. Instead, she could not help staring at him for a while, before shaking some sense back into her head.
“Since ye have nay plan to ravish me, I will get to what I came here for,” she said quickly.
“And what is that?” he asked, his brow furrowing with curiosity
“Today’s announcement,” she replied.
His smile vanished and gave way to the forbidding expression that so thoroughly annoyed her.
“What about it?” he prompted in a deceptively soft voice.
“I think that ye should postpone the cèilidh and allow the clansmen to grieve.”
“For how long? The man has been dead for months. How much time do they need to move on?”
“A year?” she suggested quietly.
“A year?” he echoed with a bitter laugh. “I should give them a year to mourn that bastard, when he hadnae even waited a week after me faither’s death before taking over? Nay. Ye all have mourned enough.”
“Please be reasonable—” she began.
“Reasonable?” he interrupted, pacing agitatedly. “I have been verra reasonable, allowing ye to stay with nay laird for two months before arriving and even a few days after I returned, when all I want to do is to erase everything that reminds me of that man. Hell, I allowedye, the widow of the man I hate so much, to stay here.”
“Yeallowedme?” she snapped, vibrating with anger. “This is me home; ye have nay right to throw me out of me home because ye seized a miserly title, ye beast.”
“Me? A beast?” He barked a mirthless laugh.
He prowled closer to her, causing her to step back. “Perhaps ye might wish to see just how beastly I can be,” he purred.
Suddenly, Sorcha felt the edge of something hard against her legs.The desk.
Her back arched as he loomed over her. His warm scent, a mix of smoke, sweat and something male, wrapped around her,intoxicating. His eyes darkened with hunger as they flicked down to her lips. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to taste him.
