Her anger was quickly replaced by something else. It could be hurt. Or need. Or desperation. She wasn’t sure. But she hated how broken he looked right now. How her careless words had cut him.
She stepped closer, desperate to touch him, to apologize.
“Then tell me,” she begged in a whisper. “Tell me the truth, William, if ye daenae want me to mix it with whispers and lies.” Her chest rose and fell unevenly. “Ye hide so much. Ye think I daenae see ye? Ye think I havenae noticed how lonely ye are?How much anger ye carry inside ye… hate, grief, revenge, all piled so deep that it’s eatin’ ye alive?” Her voice faltered.
She wasn’t even sure of what to say next. Her emotions were building up fast, catching her off guard. She sucked in a breath, steadying herself.
William said nothing; he only watched her. But she saw the change. His fists had unclenched. His eyebrows were no longer drawn tight. Something in him had softened, just enough.
Sorcha took another step toward him. Then another. Carefully, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrists. His skin was warm against hers, solid and real.
“Talk to me, William,” she continued, her voice shaking. “I want to ken what hurt ye. Who hurt ye. Ye think me presence here will ruin everything ye’ve planned for years, but ye’re wrong. I want to help ye.” She looked up at him, her eyes shining. “But I need the truth first.”
Silence slowly settled between them. It was so fragile that even their breath could break it.
William searched her eyes, studied the way she stood before him without pride, offering him something he had never asked for but desperately needed.
“And why,” he asked quietly, “should I trust ye with pain I’ve never shared with anyone else?”
Her breath caught. Her fingers slid from his wrists to his waist, gripping him as if she might fall otherwise. Then, unable to resist, she leaned forward and rested her head against his chest. She closed her eyes, listening to the rapid beat of his heart.
“Because I ken what it feels like,” she said softly, “to watch death take people right before yer eyes.” She swallowed hard. “Even then, I cannae imagine watchin’ yer own parents be murdered.” She paused, breathing deeply. “But most of all, because everythin’ about ye makes me feel things I never have before.”
Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight, desperate hug.
For a long moment, William did not move. Until he finally spoke.
“I was just a boy, Sorcha.” He said it quickly, his voice cracking with emotions that had been buried for far too long. “A peaceful night turned bloody. An uncle came with betrayal instead of kinship.”
His breathing grew ragged, and she hugged him tighter.
“I didnae understand what was going on at first,” he started. “Me mother woke me in a panic and forced me into me leathers. She said we had to leave quickly.
“I still remember how loud it had been. Me mother has always been brave but this was the first time I had seen her scared. Wewere running through the castles when we were happened upon by some of my uncle’s supporters.”Grief clogged his throat but he forced the words out, needing to tell her the truth.
“They took me mother first and killed her before me faither could find us and when he did, he was too grief stricken to fight back. I daenae ken when I started to run but I did until I came to clan O’ Donell. And for a long time,” he continued quietly, “I thought survivin’ was a curse.”
Sorcha rubbed his back as he spoke, her tears spilling over. She did not interrupt. She did not ask questions. She just listened.
“But then I realized that I was given a second chance to avenge me parents when I heard of me uncle’s death.”
When he finished, silence returned.
Sorcha pulled back slowly, lifting her face to his. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her heart ached for him.
William looked down at her, and for the first time, she could see pure hurt. He wasn’t suppressing it or masking it. He just… showed himself to her.
At that moment, she decided to share the truth about her relationship with his uncle. And right now, they were separating history from rumors.
“I didnae marry yer uncle willingly,” she confessed in a shaky voice.
His eyebrows drew together in confusion.
“Me faither forced me,” she explained. “Again and again. Duty. Fear. He used them like weapons.” She swallowed. “Yer uncle died hours after our wedding. I barely kent him at all.”
The truth hung between them, slowly sinking in. William’s expression shifted, questions deepening the lines of his face.
And it was at that moment that Sorcha realized that everything they thought they knew about each other was a lie.
