Her jibe caused the younger girl to titter into her hands, which caused a wide smile to spread across Sorcha’s face. She gave a small smile to Avery, who nodded in turn, and then looked back at Rhea when the girl began regaling her with stories from the last book she had read.
Rhea was a cheerful distraction from the thoughts that had assailed her the entire night since her encounter with the man who had claimed to be the rightful Laird of the clan.
She had tarried a little that morning in the hope of avoiding him, and she was glad to see he was absent from the dining hall before she could inform the girls or at least had the time to prepare herself to see him again.
The fear of feeling a man’s hand on her body rose again, but she tamped it down. She couldn’t fault him for expecting to find the Laird’s chambers empty, but she could fault him for taking such liberties when he hadn’t and for the way her heart had fluttered when his rich voice had rolled over her skin like silk.
She had managed to glimpse his handsome face in the little light the candle had offered, and his imposing frame. She had felt so small in front of him.
She couldn’t sleep, unable to forget the intensity of his gaze as he had studied her when she had met him in the receiving room. Even now, her face flushed.
But then she pushed away those thoughts to focus on the one that mattered most: what did his appearance mean for her?
He had said he wouldn’t evict her, but if he had been wronged by his uncle, surely he hadn’t come for peace, and she and the girls would be casualties of his revenge.
“Sorcha, are ye well?” Rhea asked with a concerned look. “Ye look pale.”
Sorcha nodded, then shook her head. “I feel a little unwell,” she admitted. “I had an unpleasant meeting with a man who claimed to be the rightful Laird of the clan. He said he was William MacLean.”
The girls’ gasps made her heart sink. The two shared a look before leaning closer.
“Are ye sure ye heard correctly, Sorcha?” Avery whispered.
“Aye,” Sorcha answered. “I couldnae forget it even if I wanted to.”
“I cannae believe he has finally returned,” Rhea muttered, looking worried.
Sorcha had never seen such looks on their faces, not even when they had been told that their father had died. She still couldn’t understand why neither of the girls was distraught like they should have been, considering their father had died, but she hadn’t probed, not wanting to seem insensitive.
“I suspected he would, but so soon?” Avery shook her head.
“Ye ken who he is?” Sorcha asked.
“Aye,” Avery answered, looking grim. “His faither was the previous Laird, and I heard he was a tyrant and a greedy man. The clan suffered under his control, and me faither had to seize control to fix things. At least that’s what I was told. William is his son, and he escaped during the coup. Nay one kens how, and we daenae remember much since we were children back then.”
That filled Sorcha with such dread that the delicious spread before her lost its appeal.
She had hoped the man was naught more than an intruder or at least a powerless braggart, but the fear in the girls’ eyes told her that caution would be needed going forward.
He believed his family had been wronged by his uncle and had returned after so many years to claim what was his. He wouldn’t have come unless he knew he was capable of reclaiming his right.
But where would that leave her?
“Lady Avery?” Henry, the late Laird’s man-at-arms, called, looking red in the face. “The Laird calls for ye.”
“The Laird?” Avery gasped. “What do ye mean?”
“He has asked to see ye in his study, me Lady. Please daenae refuse him.”
Henry looked frightened as he spoke, and Sorcha could only wonder what had happened to make him so.
“I will go,” Avery announced, rising from her seat.
“Nay, Avery,” Rhea begged. “Daenae go.”
“He willnae hurt me.”
Sorcha watched the girl leave with squared shoulders. She wished she had Avery’s confidence. Her hands shook as she waited, her heart beating an unfamiliar rhythm as she contemplated what the future held for her.
