Page 40 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
A slow smirk curved his lips. He sat and leaned back in his seat, his eyes studying the flush in her cheeks.
“Are ye that eager?” He let the edge remain in his voice, watching for the moment she might retreat.
“I speak of duty.” Her jaw flexed, and her eyes flashed. “Or doesnae that matter when it comes to me?”
Something stirred in his chest at the spark in her eyes, a dangerous, unwelcome heat. He shouldn’t crave her reaction, shouldn’t find satisfaction in breaking through her walls. Yet there he was, being pulled toward her despite himself.
He rose then, pushing his chair back with a deliberate scrape that echoed off the stone walls. Sorcha did not flinch, nor did she turn to watch him as he circled behind her. He bent slightly, close enough that his breath stirred the hairs at the nape of her neck.
“If ye keep speakin’ of duty,” he purred, “I’ll show ye what it truly means to make an heir.”
He heard the hitch in her breath, watched as her hands fisted in her lap. He felt the thrum of his own pulse in his temples, the heat of her skin so close he could taste it. Then he straightened, stepping away as quickly as he had approached her.
Have I gone too far?
Making his way toward the door, he could not stop himself from turning his head slightly, catching sight of her one more time.
Her eyes followed him, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Her lips, slightly parted, betrayed the composure she fought to maintain.
Nae far enough.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ishouldnae have said it.
The thought followed him the moment he left the hall, nipping at his heels no matter how quickly he walked. His boots struck the stone with sharp intent, but the sound did little to drown out his thoughts.
He had seen the way she stilled beneath his words. Felt it. And still, he could not stop himself.
He had not even stayed to eat, the meal forgotten the moment she lifted her gaze and asked that question as though she had every right. As though she had a claim.
He had meant to keep his distance, remain in control. Do what was required when it could not be avoided, and no sooner. Instead, he found himself circling her like she was prey.
He exhaled slowly, pushing the thought aside before it could settle into something he would have to face.
The corridor ahead opened onto the passage that led outside. He had no clear direction in mind, only the suffocating need to be out of the hall. Out ofherreach.
As he stepped into the corridor, a small figure collided with him as it rounded the corner.
“Da!”
Elspeth skidded to a halt before him, her hair half-loose from running. Morag followed behind at a measured pace, holding Elspeth’s turtle, her sharp eyes assessing him.
Rowan went still, the tension in his body easing a fraction as he looked down at Elspeth. “Are ye nae supposed to be at the pond?”
“Aye, but Morag said that it was cold out. That I needed to wear somethin’ warmer.” She took a step back and twirled around to show off her cloak. “Are ye goin’ to come with us?”
He glanced briefly toward the passage that led out to the yard, then back at Elspeth, Morag’s judgmental gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. There were always things that required his attention. Work that could not wait.
“Daenae be neglectin’ yer daughter now,” Morag scolded.
Elspeth’s expectant eyes and soft smile were enough to break his resolve. “Aye, I’ll come.”
Elspeth let out a cry of joy, jumping up and down excitedly. She wasted no time once they stepped outside, tugging at his hand as though he might change his mind. “Come along, Da. They’ll be gone if we’re too slow.”
Rowan allowed it, adjusting his stride to match hers. Her excitement carried forward in bursts, her words spilling freely as they stepped out into the cooler air beyond the stone walls. Morag walked a few paces behind them.
“I’m sure Mr. Turtle’s whole family will be there. They always are. His ma, his braithers, and his sisters.”
