Myles leaned closer and lowered his voice. “The documents, the witness statements, the ledger ye asked for—it’s all secured. Names, dates, transactions. Enough to expose all three of them. Publicly. Irrefutably. And…”
“And?” he prompted.
“And,” Myles continued, a grin tugging at his mouth, “they willnae see it coming.”
William nodded slowly. It was a brilliant idea. But then unease curled in his gut.
He should have felt victorious. He should have felt satisfied. Instead, his mind flashed back to his room. To the woman asleep in his bed, unaware of how close the storm truly was.
Sorcha…
Myles eventually took his leave, but William remained where he was standing. He could almost taste victory, but there was also Sorcha now. And revenge had a way of devouring everything in its path.
He slowly turned back to the door, resting his palm against the wood as though it might steady him. With a slow exhale, he made up his mind.
He had to keep her safe. He had to send her away. Before his revenge destroyed her, too.
27
William.
That was the name that stirred both her mind and body into consciousness. It was the same name that filled her dreams.
The memory of the wicked things his hands had done to her replayed in her mind over and over. He had watched her lips part with shaky breaths, watched her arch into him with desperate need. But then he stopped. Simply stopped. And his restraint was somehow what tortured her the most.
She turned her face into the pillow and inhaled deeply.
Sigh.
His scent was everywhere. Smoke, leathersmoke and something uniquely his.
It reminded her of how his scent had filled her nostrils as she whimpered into his kiss, rocking up against him for more friction. And God, she had been desperate. However, she had not begged. Not yet.
William had seen it all, leaving her trembling, wet, and aching.
Sorcha pressed her thighs together, pushing away the thought. It was too early for that.
Her eyes darted around. Stone walls. Tall windows. Heavy drapes.
William’s chamber.
Suddenly, voices rose from the courtyard below. It was enough to jolt her fully awake.
She bolted upright, the covers sliding down her arms. She looked around again. Something wasn’t right. Or perhaps something was missing.
The bed beside her was empty and cold.
Instantly, a strange disappointment rose in her chest, along with the fear that she had somehow made a mistake.
She rose slowly, putting on the robe she had worn the night before.
“William?” she called softly, but no reply came.
She moved across the room quietly, her feet bare on the stone floor. Her gaze continued to wander, settling on old landscapes of the Highlands, shelves lined with books, a sword resting on the far wall like something sacred.
Everything reminded her of him—strength, control, solitude. But beneath it all, something restless lurked.
She traced her fingers along the edge of a side table absentmindedly. She couldn’t help but wonder whether everything would end between them. Would William not return to her?
