A soft gasp escaped Sorcha’s lips.
What is he doing?
She could not see him anymore, but she could still feel him. She could feel his nearness, like a drunken invitation to surrender.
His warmth enveloped her, indicating that he had moved even closer. So close that she could almost sense the outline of his figure.
“Me Laird…” The words slipped past her lips in a shaky whisper.
Something about standing there, shrouded in darkness, made hunger flare inside her. The kind that betrayed the main purpose of her visit.
William didn’t respond immediately. Rather, she felt his warm breath ghost over her skin. It trailed from her neck to the sensitive curve of her shoulder, making her arch toward him.
And when she did, she regretted it with a shudder. Because she gave him access to the shell of her ear. The intimacy of it made her sex clench with hot need.
The pounding of her heart was the only thing she could hear now. Well, at least before he spoke again.
“I’ve lived with nothing but darkness for many years,” he murmured, his rough voice vibrating through her in a way that made wetness pool between her thighs. “Evil has been me companion longer than I care to admit.”
Her lips parted on a silent moan. She wanted to focus on his words, but it was hard. Every moment in this darkness left her wanting nothing but the feel of his body pinning her down, the press of his mouth against her skin.
“And ye…” He paused for a moment, letting suspense fill the space between them. “Ye might be the one thing that could ruin everything I’ve built to survive it.”
Even though she couldn’t see him, her brow creased with confusion.
What does he mean? Ruin… how?
“Nothing will change me mind,” he added quietly. “Me decision is final.”
He found her hand in the darkness and pressed the lamp into her palm. She didn’t miss the way his fingers briefly wrapped around hers before letting go. She tried hard to fight it, but the contact still stole her breath.
“Go to sleep,” he whispered.
His hand fell away, before he stepped back.
Sorcha stood there with a heavy heart. Slowly, she relit the lamp. When she did, she realized she was standing alone in the study.
Turning her head, she noticed that the door was open. And William was nowhere in sight.
11
William could not remember the last time he had felt sympathy for anyone. It was not something that came easily to him. Since boyhood, he had learned that trust and affection were a luxury that only weak men indulged in.
He had been betrayed by blood, and that lesson had made him realize one thing: he could only survive by keeping his heart locked behind iron restraint.
Yet the memory of Sorcha standing in his study, her face set in courage, refused to leave him. And then there were words she spoke.
That… that had evoked some sympathy.
He took a sip of his drink as he stood under the chandeliers of the Great Hall. The whiskey burned a familiar path down his throat, but the heat did nothing to ease the tension in his chest.
“I daenae wish to remarry.”
Those words had landed harder than he cared to admit. Because deep down, her fear reminded him of his own. A fear he had once carried quietly as a boy. The one who brought too many questions.
Was he born with misery? Why was everyone dear to him dead? Perhaps if he had never drawn breath, fewer graves would bear the names of those he loved.
His gaze drifted to the far wall, where an old crest hung. It was weathered, cracked with age, but he still remembered it. He had been surprised to come across it upon his arrival. His father had made it, and he remembered how delighted his mother had been with it.
