Her voice surprised him. It was rich and smooth, like the caress of silk against skin. He could see why his uncle had married her. He had been in her presence only a short moment, and he wanted her with a burning intensity that surprised him.
“That doesnae matter,” she said stubbornly. “What matters is that I ken who ye are.”
“I am William MacLean,” he replied, “the rightful Laird of Clan Dunrath, and I have come to reclaim me inheritance.”
She raised an eyebrow, though a hint of uncertainty flashed in her eyes.
“I daenae believe ye,” she huffed. “I havenae heard of ye. Surely if it were yers by right, someone would have told me?—”
“Me uncle was clever to tarnish me reputation as well as me faither’s to make sure that nay one would speak of me,” he cut in. “It doesnae matter if ye believe me or nae. Ask anyone, and ye shall learn me identity.”
She seemed to consider his words, as he could see a barrage of emotions cross her features. Worry, anxiety, and distrust battled for supremacy in her eyes, but he was sorely uncomfortable in the wet garments clinging to him and couldn’t wait for her to decide.
“Reclaiming what’s mine by right includes these chambers ye’ve made yer own,” he told her. “Ye should find other accommodations for the evening. I wouldnae be so cruel as to ask ye to return to yer clan tonight, but that is the extent of me benevolence.”
Her eyes snapped to his. “I—” she broke off. “But I am the widow of Laird Dunrath!”
“Only because me uncle stole what was mine,” he growled. “I am being merciful by nae evicting ye at once. Daenae test me, lass.”
She let out a huff of irritation and stormed past him toward the door. He turned to watch her leave, raising an eyebrow at the childish display. His eyebrows rose further when she stopped and turned to him with a vulnerable expression on her face.
The look took him aback, and he wondered what he could have done to put such fear in her eyes. He hadn’t told her he would beevicting her or punishing her for her husband’s crimes, so why did she look so frightened?
“Did ye see anything?” she asked softly.
Her voice was so low that he would have missed the question if he hadn’t paying attention.
“Excuse me?”
She regarded him carefully. “Did ye see me… me naked body?” she asked, the flush in her cheeks deepening.
William saw the honesty and innocence in her question. He could tease her and claim that he did, but he feared that would cause the fear he had seen earlier in her eyes to return.
“Nay,” he answered. “I didnae.”
And he meant it. The light had been too dim to offer him any view of her, after all.
She blinked furiously before nodding, relief flooding her features. “All right then,” she said, then turned and left the room.
It was only when the door had closed behind her that he allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding.
If she had been that worried that he had seen her naked body, he wondered how worried she would be if she knew that her softness was seared in his mind like a brand.
He groaned as he remembered the feel of her curves against him. Lust roared hotter in his blood.
Damn!
He had thought the only challenge returning home would be finding and punishing the men responsible for his parents’ death, but it seemed avoiding his uncle’s widow was another.
2
“Sorcha, ye’re finally here!” Rhea greeted, buttering a piece of toast as Sorcha took her seat at the high table.
“I am sorry, Rhea,” Sorcha answered with a small smile. “I couldnae sleep until late last night.”
“Did ye stay up to read again?” Rhea asked, wrinkling her nose. “Ye daenae want to strain yer eyes, do ye?”
“Nay,” Sorcha answered. “I shall try to pick a less harmful hobby to bore me to sleep.”
