Page 43 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
Something sharp tightened in his chest.
I daenae want her shapin’ herself around me absence. And yet, I left her with nothin’ else.
He wondered how long her patience would hold before it turned into something else entirely.
A shout suddenly cut through the yard behind them, the urgency in it causing Rowen to stand and turn at once, pushing Elspeth behind his leg.
A guard approached at a near run, his breath short, his expression tight.
“Me Laird,” he said, barely able to catch his breath. “There’s been another fire.”
Rowan’s breath faltered, catching low before he forced it steady again. He heard Morag call Elspeth over. He could feel Elspeth’s worried eyes darting between him and the guard as she left his side.
“Where?”
“The lower stores, near the eastern border.”
Rowan did not hesitate. “Stay here,” he said to Morag and Elspeth, already moving past them.
His stride lengthened as he cut across the yard, the tension that had followed him from the hall settling into something far more useful.
The first fire had not been an accident. This was no different.
Whoever was behind it had grown bold.
And now, they had his attention.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By the time the sunlight faded, Sorcha had spent most of the day in her chambers.
She’d gone looking for Elspeth after breakfast, only to learn she had gone out with Rowan to the pond.
The thought of the girl’s laughter had tugged at her, but the memory of Rowan’s warm breath against her skin and the low timbre of his voice was enough for her to keep her distance.
Was he serious? Or perhaps he was just mockin’ me so I would shut me mouth.
But there was little else to occupy her. While everyone else in the castle seemed to have their roles and duties, she had none. Forced to either wander through the halls like a ghost or return to her chamber.
And so she returned to her chamber. To the quiet. To the only thing that belonged to her.
The knife moved steadily in her hands, thin curls of wood gathering in her lap as the shape of the wood in her grasp began to take form. Each cut was guided more by habit than thought.
Her mind drifted back to him.
She cursed under her breath as she pressed the blade deeper than she had intended. She stopped at once, setting the blade down on her lap and flexing her fingers.
What is wrong with me? He’s made it clear that he wants to keep me at arm’s length, yet I cannae seem to keep him out of me mind.
The memory rose sharper now, his proximity difficult to forget. Goosebumps rose all over her skin at the memory of his breath on her neck, whispering to her words he probably did not mean.
He most definitely was mockin’ me.
She shook her head, picking up the knife again to continue.
“I can hear ye thinkin’ from across the room.” Flora’s voice rang out in the silence, light but knowing. She came to sit next to Sorcha, her arms loosely folded as she watched her.
“Am I that obvious?” Sorcha laughed, glancing at her.
