He slowly bent his head, inch by inch, until he could almost taste her. Until he could almost feel the tremor in her lips.
But then he stopped suddenly.
This was wrong. All of it. She was the most dangerous thing he had ever had to face.
Sucking in a sharp breath, William stepped back, which seemed to break the spell.
His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Ye should sleep.”
He did not wait to see her reaction. He had already turned and walked away, even though his mind replayed things he could have done to her if only he hadn’t resisted.
20
William had been wrong to think that the reckless version of Sorcha would disappear with the night. Indeed, the morning proved him a fool.
By the time the sun had risen and the servants started their chores, rumors about Sorcha were swelling. They reached him, eventually. They always did.
From his study, he heard them as they passed through the corridor, moving with both fear and fascination. He heard them through words that had been stitched together by superstition and boredom.
“Lady Dunrath has been wanderin’ the corridors at dawn.”
“They say she laughs to herself, as if someone else is whisperin’ in her ear.”
“Perhaps the spirits arenae pleased.”
“Perhaps her late husband, God rest his soul, has returned.”
“Possessed, that’s what she is. Mark me words.”
Unable to hear any more of it, William snapped the ledger on his desk shut. It was enough to silence the passing servants and impose quiet in the corridor.
Nonsense. Every last word of it.
Despite his request for silence, the sound of laughter still managed to drift toward him. Not frightened laughter. Not nervous. But amused.
He lifted his gaze to the window. Rhea and Avery lounged near the flowers outside, barely containing their delight. And between them stood Sorcha’s cousin.
William’s lips turned down.
Three conspirators, all enjoying the circling rumors far too much.
William returned his attention to the ledger, wanting to maintain the dignity of his post. But then his eyes flicked up when heavy footsteps thudded into the room.
Myles.
Ah, make that four.
The grin plastered across his friend’s face told him everything he needed to know. It was the sort of grin brought on by witnessing chaos and choosing to savor it.
Myles clasped his hands together. “Ye’re missin’ a lot by squesterin’ yerself in yer study.”
William leaned back in his chair, expression carefully neutral. “Am I?”
“Aye,” Myles said easily. “Lady Dunrath has been actin’ all sorts of… possessed, as far as I can tell.”
William inhaled slowly through his nose. He knew exactly why Sorcha was doing this. He had seen it in her eyes the night before. It was too intentional to be accidental.
This was defiance dressed as madness. A performance meant for an audience.
