Instantly, a warmth she did not want to name filled her chest, followed by a flutter.
At her silence, the laughter faded around her, and the three of them paused to study her.
“Ye daenae sound like ye’re interested,” Avery noted with a suspicious look.
“Of course, I will give it a try,” Sorcha responded with a dry laugh, ready for an escape plan before they managed to read her thoughts.
For now, it was best to keep her attraction toward William a secret, and that was exactly what she was going to do.
18
William could still taste her on his tongue. Even after many nights had passed, it lingered like a bruise that did not want to heal.
It was there when he woke up. There when he struggled to fall asleep. There in his dreams, teasing him with cruel patience.
At this point, he was convinced Sorcha had cast a spell on him. One that would not fade with time or weaken with effort.
He had tried everything. He had ridden his horse until his thighs burned and his lungs begged for air. He had buried himself in ledgers and old maps. He had trained longer, sparring until sweat blurred his vision.
But nothing had worked. No amount of discipline or distraction could rid his mind of her, and that unsettled him the most.
Worse still, he had begun doing things he had never done before.
He usually ate alone, but now, he started coming down for breakfast. When the air smelled of blooming flowers, he would peek through the window just to catch a glimpse of her. He even showed up at the tea party, a gathering that he usually avoided.
Myles had noticed that.
“Since when do ye attend tea parties, me Laird?” he had asked, one eyebrow arched in disbelief.
Even now, William could still hear the amusement in his friend’s voice. He had offered no answer. He never did.
The truth was simpler than any lie he could utter. No matter how full his day was, he always found time to see Sorcha. Just once. Just enough to remind himself that she was still there. Still real. Stillruininghim.
He told himself he acted indifferent. He told himself his face was perfect at hiding his emotions. He was sure he always knew better.
But she noticed.
She noticed how his gaze followed her before he could stop it. Not openly—neveropenly—but enough. And she noticed the way he pretended not to see her, the way he turned his head away when she was close enough.
He knew she did because he had caught her blush, seen her smile to herself when she thought no one was watching, especially right before disappearing down the corridor with Poppy.
He never smiled back. He never gave her the satisfaction. Still, his chest foolishly warmed at the sight of her smile.
His goal lingered at the back of his mind: send her away. But every time she was near, his resolve weakened. Her voice alone was enough to undo him.
It reached a point where he found himself wondering aloud what kind of witchcraft she did.
“Witch,” he muttered as he tightened a strap that did not need tightening.
The horse merely flicked his ear and continued chewing, unimpressed.
William exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He had to return to the present. He had no right to softness, especially when his heart was meant to be cold, sharp, and ready to slay.
Not… this.
Footsteps approached, crunching against leaves. William did not need to turn to know who it was. But he had to, because hewanted to express his displeasure with waiting close to an hour for him.
Sunlight shone on Myles’s long hair as his tall frame came into view. He stopped near William’s shoulder, his hands hanging loosely at his sides.
