He was watching her. Not distantly, not guardedly, but intently.
Her lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. Only a gasp escaped her at first. It felt as though heat was taking a stroll up her throat, preventing her words from coming out.
“Ye are so… impossible,” she managed, glad of her choice of words. The more she spoke, the more her voice wavered, but she did not stop. “For a moment, I thought—” She swallowed. “I thought I could trust ye.”
Her eyes burned, not with tears, but with something sharper.
“But thankfully,” she continued, her emotions swelling fast, “ye reminded me exactly why I shouldnae.” Her shoulders shook. “Ye betrayed me.”
At that, something flickered in his eyes. She saw it far too clearly.
William stepped closer until the space between them shrank. Her breathing quickened as his shadow fell over her. However, her feet were rooted to the spot. She straightened her back.
He was close enough that she could see the tick in his jaw, the storm brewing behind his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.
“What in the hell do ye ken about betrayal?”
The words struck her so hard.
For a moment, she said nothing. She only stared up at him, her heart pounding against her ribs. She couldn’t believe him. After everything she had thrown at him, that was all he had to say?
She lifted her chin. Clearly, the word ‘betrayal’ evoked his past. She hadn’t meant to conjure dark memories, but she had a point to prove.
“At least I ken enough nae to become one,” she spat out.
Then she turned on her heel, not waiting for his answer. Her skirts swished as she stormed away.
“If it’s a suitor ye and me precious faither want so badly,” she threw over her shoulder, “then I will get one!”
She shoved her way through the crowd, her chest burning. She had had enough of men dictating her life, as if it revolved around nothing but marriage.
“And I promise,” she hissed under her breath, “I’ll cause ye all a great deal of trouble.”
She laughed then. The distance between them was growing, but then she paused in the middle of the crowd, far enough so that she wouldn’t feel his pull. Several pairs of eyes swiveled toward her, curious.
“At least he willnae mind that I’m a widow!” she called out, her chest heaving. “Unlike ye!” She paused to let out a dry chuckle. “And I’ll start with a kiss!”
Sorcha did not wait to see his reaction. He might not even care anyway. Quickly, she spun away and moved further through the crowd. A reckless, wild feeling was growing within her.
I will show him.I will show him that I am nae some object he can push around.
Her eyes darted around. She fully intended to kiss a stranger; she just needed a perfect-looking one.
Then she saw him. A man seated by the fountain, gently playing a harp. His head was bowed, his fingers calm and steady.
Peaceful? Safe?Perfect.
Without wasting time, she walked up to him. He raised his head and, upon seeing her, asked if she wanted him to play a different song.
But instead of answering, she asked, “Would ye mind a kiss?”
The man stopped playing. His mouth dropped open. He looked confused at first, his eyes flicking over her dress, her hair, her flushed cheeks. But then something flickered in his gaze. Something Sorcha recognized as curiosity. Or was it glee?
But before he could speak, a tall shadow fell over them. Sorcha already knew who it was without turning to look.
Suddenly, the instrument was snatched and tossed into the fountain. It hit the water with a loud splash.
Sorcha gasped and whirled around. William stood there, fury carved into every line of his body.
