She twisted her face free from his grip, turning ahead as the wind whipped at her hair.
“Stop the horse,” she shouted. “Or I’ll jump!” Her eyes returned to his face. “That’s nae a threat,” she added furiously. “I’m mad enough. Possessed enough. Under a spell enough to do it!”
William felt it then. The truth in her voice. Something about it was too bold, too daring, too real. It made his pulse thunder.
Then slowly, carefully, he loosened his grip on the reins. Instantly, the horse slowed down, until it drew to a halt.
Sorcha didn’t hesitate. She jumped down in one swift motion, landing hard but steady. Then, she looked up at him with flashing eyes.
“Leave me alone!” she snapped.
Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked away.
By the time dusk had fallen, William was back in his chamber.
His bath had been cold. His room was quiet. Everything was as it should have been, yet he felt no peace.
He lay back, but then tossed and turned again. Why? Because his thoughts kept returning to her, no matter how hard he tried to push them away.
Had she returned to the castle? The last time he had seen her was when she had fled from him.
His chest tightened. He had let her out of the castle and allowed her to find her way back.
What was wrong with him?
He bolted upright, dragging a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stop old memories from flooding back, and the fear of losing someone else clawed at him.
Was she safe?
Saints.He was so worried.
Realizing he had wasted too much time, he slid off the bed. He should not have let her wander off. He should have returned her to the castle.
Not waiting another moment, he left his chamber and made his way toward hers.
Poppy met him in the corridor, her face pale. “Me Laird,” she said quickly. “Lady Dunrath hasnae returned to her chamber.”
That was enough.
With a mix of worry and fierce urgency, William headed outside, already calling for a horse. The sky had darkened by now. But just then, he saw it—the small, feminine shape slumped beside one of the horses.
His steps slowed.
Red hair, familiar clothes. Most importantly, curves he knew far too well.
Sorcha…
The sight rooted him to the spot.
Why did she choose to stay in the cold? Alone?
He approached her quickly. When he checked her, he realized she was deep asleep. At the sight, something broke inside him.
Taking a deep breath, he crouched beside her to take her in. Even in her vulnerable state, her mesmerizing beauty still stole the air from his lungs.
For a long moment, he did nothing but stare at her. Then, carefully, he lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. Something about the tenderness shook him more than any fire or fury ever had.
He pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her small frame. Then, when she stirred slightly, he lifted her.
