Saints above, why is this man here?
The sight of him made unease coil in her gut. And that smarmy smile of his, one that always assumed victory, made her nerves bristle with displeasure.
Reluctantly, Sorcha rose from the bench. She cast her eyes around, instinctively searching for William.
Where is he?
But all she saw were unfamiliar faces under the lantern light. There was no sign of him.
Keegan noticed.
“Ye must be lookin’ for the Laird,” he said smoothly, amusement lacing his voice.
How is that any of yer business?
She swallowed down those words. Forced calm. Forced patience. Though her patience was running thin.
Instead of answering, she lifted her chin and asked, “Are ye here to enjoy the fair, then?”
Keegan laughed.
She hoped that he could hold a decent conversation with such laughter. It made her skin prickle. Not because it was loud, butbecause it carried something mocking beneath it. As though he found the entire situation amusing in a way only he understood.
“Of course, I came to enjoy the fair,” he replied. “And then I caught sight of yer beauty from afar.”
Sorcha rolled her eyes before she could stop herself.
Please, give me a break.
Keegan’s brow creased, as if he sensed the thought. He tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle he already believed solved.
“Daenae flatter me,” she said coolly. “I’m glad ye stopped to say hello, but I’ll be on me way now.”
She stepped past him. But almost immediately, he moved in front of her, blocking her path.
Thathad been deliberate and calculated. His smile thinned, and his eyes darkened with satisfaction, glinting with… something.
Whatever it was, it made her stomach churn.
“Ye promised me a dance the next time we met,” he reminded her, his voice dripping with false sweetness. “Or did ye forget? The Laird had cut short our… romance.”
Romance.
The word made bile rise in her throat.
Before she could respond—this time she wouldn’t be so nice—familiar footsteps approached.
She gasped softly before looking up.
William.
A wave of relief crashed over her, such that she almost cried. The tension in her shoulders eased, her breath catching as his tall frame came into view. For one brief second, the world felt right again.
Then she saw his face.
Whatever warmth he had shown earlier was gone. In its place was something colder. Sharper. He looked every inch the Laird now. Controlled, dangerous, unreadable.
She wondered if something had happened while he had been away. Or perhaps the sight of Keegan near her was the cause.
