But goddammit, he kept on showing up. And now here he was, standing half-naked before her, speaking of suitors as if she were a task to be finished.
Oh no. She would not let him ruin this moment, either. And she would not let him leave without paying for it. She was going to punish him.
Without another thought, without giving herself time to hesitate, Sorcha rose. The water slid down her body in rivulets, slow and shining. The moonlight accentuated the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the shape of her thighs. Steam clung to her like a veil, but she didn’t bother hiding herself.
William froze. His breath left him on a stunned exhale that shook his whole body.
Sorcha felt the power she had over him then. Felt how utterly unprepared he had been for this. She didn’t give him time to recover.
Without a word, she stepped past him, water dripping off her skin and landing on the stone floor. She could feel his gaze on her back, following every step she took.
She reached for her clothes and dressed quickly. Even though a storm raged inside her chest, she didn’t show it.
Finally, she turned back.
Silence reigned, thick and heated with things that were yet to be spoken aloud.
William still hadn’t moved. He stood exactly where she had left him, as though rooted to that spot. His expression had faltered, his indifferent mask gone. It was as if a part of him had been switched off entirely.
She saw it on his face first. The blankness, the stunned quiet, the way his body seemed caught between lust and thought. And shelovedit. Loved it in a dark, wicked, revengeful way.
For once, he was the one undone.
She finished tying the last ribbon of her robe, then lifted her chin, her shoulders squared. Every inch of her now carried a dangerous calm.
“Enjoy yerself,” she said lightly, though her eyes flashed. “The water’s still warm. Since ye’ve already ruined me fun for the night.” She turned to leave.
“I’m nae done speakin’ to ye.”
His voice stopped her cold. It was calm, controlled, and assured. It made her turn back. Not because she wanted to listen to him, but because she wanted to snap at him.
How dare he think she should wait around just because that was what he wanted?
“Well, I am!” she snapped. “I’m done listenin’ to ye talk about suitors like I’m some chore ye’ve been saddled with. Ye’ve nay right! Nay right at all to decide that for me.”
She turned away again, fury controlling her every move. But then, a hand seized hers.
“Let me go!” she cried, her voice raw.
She felt it before it happened. She already knew he was going to do it. Yet it would never be enough to prepare her for the pull, the heat that radiated from a man like him.
William tugged her hand, forcing her to turn back. She almost knocked into his hard chest.
“And what if I daenae?” he shot back, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur.
She laughed, the sound dry and bitter, despite the pounding of her heart.
“Ye must think ye own me,” she hissed. “Ye must think I’m some leftover thing to be passed around.” Her eyes narrowed as she glared up at him. “I ken how much ye hate yer uncle. But it seems ye’ve taken that same hatred and laid it on me.” Her voicerose then, shaking with fury. “What if he wasnae the bad man? What if it is ye who should have been punished all this time?!”
William stiffened.
Sorcha saw it then, clear as day. The way her words had hit a deep, old wound.
His jaw clenched, and his grip loosened and tightened, as if he were fighting himself.
“Daenae,” he warned through gritted teeth. “Daenae speak of things ye daenae understand.” He stepped closer, his presence heavy and suffocating. “Daenae mistake rumors for history. Ye ken nothing about what happened.”
Sorcha deflated, her anger subsiding slowly. Seeing him like this, seeing how much her slip had hurt him… she felt bad.
