That voice…
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Slowly, she turned to find William standing in the doorway. Dark green fabric clothed his broad frame, the light outlining the sharp angles of his face. He looked every inch the Laird, commanding, immovable, lethal in his calm.
His eyes were not fixed on her. Rather, they were fixed on Keegan.
Sorcha followed his gaze. Immediately, tension spiked between the two men, like invisible blades already drawn.
Keegan gave a sarcastic laugh. “I didnae ken ye were so eager to interrupt,” he said. “I thought ye might appreciate me company, seein’ as she’s yer uncle’s widow.”
Sorcha felt huge discomfort at those words. Her eyebrows knitted together. She did not like the way he said it. Did not like the implication.
William said nothing yet. Instead, he took a step forward. Then another. Until she could feel him behind her. She stole a glance at him.
She had never seen him like this. Every trace of humor had vanished from his expression. His face looked as though it were carved from stone, his eyes dark and suffocating in their focus.
“At least ye ken yer place,” he said at last, his voice dangerously calm. “But it’s nae as close as the relationship ye had with me uncle.”
Keegan stiffened at those words, amusement vanishing from his face as if something bitter had replaced it.
It made Sorcha realize that there was history here.Uglyhistory. She could feel it like a vibration under her skin. The two men were staring at each other with thinly veiled hatred, especially William.
Keegan said nothing for a moment. Eventually, he exhaled, schooling his features as he turned to her. “It was a pleasure spendin’ time with ye, me Lady,” he said. “Perhaps we’ll speak again.”
Sorcha nodded slowly, still trying to understand what had just happened.
Keegan gave William one last look before stepping past him and leaving the room.
The door closed, and suddenly, she was alone with William. But she was not ready to face the intensity of his gaze.
She was eager to break the silence. A defiant frown settled on her face as if it were armor.
“Well then,” she said, “I thought ye wanted me to find a suitor. Why interfere now?”
Her voice was sharp, bouncing off painted walls and old stone.
William said nothing at first. He only clenched his jaw, as though fighting something within. Then he moved without warning. Not away, but toward her.
The first step stole her breath. The second made her body shiver. The third closed the space between them.
Yet, Sorcha held her ground, her stubborn pride flaring. She would not step back. She would not allow him to see how easy he unraveled her.
William stopped so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His stormy eyes left her wondering what made him so angry.
His gaze briefly dropped to her lips, before rising again to meet hers. Which only ratcheted up her want.
“What do ye think ye were doing?” he asked suddenly.
The authority in his voice hit her like a physical blow.
She blinked in confusion, her lashes fluttering. “I—what?”
He did not give her time to gather herself. He leaned in, eliminating the little space that remained between them. Instinct screamed at her to move. She meant to. Truly, she did. But she was a second too late. Or perhaps he was simply too fast.
His arm snaked around her waist possessively, pulling her against him with startling force. Air rushed from her lungs as her body collided with the solid wall of his chest.
“William!” she gasped.
But it only made his grip tighten. Heat stirred within her, pooling between her legs. She could feel the strength of his arms, and it made her press her thighs together.
