Heat rushed to Sorcha’s cheeks.
That damned snitch.
She looked away. Her fingers twisted in her lap, as though doing that could help her out. Could help in deciding whether to tell the truth or a lie.
“I didnae ken how to say it,” she admitted finally. “Or if I should say it at all.”
Avery waited patiently.
With a sigh that seemed to drain something from her, Sorcha continued. “There is something about him. Something infuriating. He irks me. Challenges me. Makes me want to scream, and yet…” She swallowed. “I find meself drawn to him all the same.”
Avery blinked once. Then again. And again. Then, very slowly, she asked, “Do ye fancy the Laird?”
Sorcha closed her eyes, taking a moment to taste the truth on her tongue before letting it out.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I do.” Then, as if aware of how huge a risk it was, she added, “But I willnae act on it. I cannae. I willnae make anything of it.”
Avery inhaled deeply. She reached for Sorcha’s hand and squeezed it. “Ye must remember why ye’re here,” she said gently. “Yer freedom. Yer future. Everything ye’ve worked for.”
Sorcha opened her eyes slowly to see the earnest look on Avery’s face.
“Desire can be a powerful thing, but it can also be a chain if ye let it.”
Sorcha nodded slowly at those words.
She knew Avery was right. She had always known. Still, knowing did little to quell the ache inside her. It did little to snuff out the spark in her heart.
“I ken,” she said at last. “And I’ll stay the course.”
Moments later, Avery left her room.
As Sorcha sat quietly on the edge of the bed, her resolve hardened.
She would not falter, no matter how tempting William might be.
15
Aweek away had done nothing to loosen the knot in William’s chest. If anything, it had tightened it.
The carriage rolled through the iron gates until it rolled to a stop before the castle.
William sat inside with his shoulders squared, his gloved hands clasped together as though holding himself in place. Despite the scent of leather and cold metal, he felt something far more persistent.
Her.
The image of her made him exhale slowly through his nose. His jaw clenched harder.
Her swollen lips, her broken gasps, the way she had looked utterly undone beneath him… He couldn’t keep his mind off that. That was why he left. That was why distance was necessary.
The journey had been a chance to clear his head. To attend to matters beyond these walls. He had even convinced himself he might find a suitor along the way. Perhaps someone respectable. Someone who would take Sorcha away from his sight and his thoughts for good.
Yet every man he had encountered only made it worse. Each polite conversation had ended the same way: with William imagining the man’s hands on Sorcha’s waist. Or imagining her attention being stolen by someone else.
The images alone were enough to make his blood boil. He hadhatedevery second of it.
Outside the carriage, footsteps approached. Soon, the door was pulled open by a footman.
Myles stepped down first, fixing him with a careful look that conveyed more than words ever could.
