Page 45 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
“As ye wish. I’ll send up a tray instead.”
“That’s nae necessary,” Sorcha replied, anxiety coiling in her stomach.
Flora gave her a look that she knew too well. “I’ll have it sent up anyway. Ye may change yer mind.”
Sorcha shrugged but did not argue. She knew better than to try.
Flora made her way to the door. “Daenae stay up all night thinkin’. It will do ye nay good.”
She stepped out of the room, leaving Sorcha alone with her thoughts.
Sorcha remained where she was for a moment, staring off into the hearth before resuming her carving. This time, her hands found their rhythm more easily, the familiar motion returning piece by piece.
Her thoughts drifted back to a happier time. To a time when she used to carve simple wooden figures for her family. How proud she was to show her mother and father what she had made.
She drew a long breath, setting the memories aside.
That life is gone. This is the one that remains.
A knock on the door made her go still, her fingers tightening around the knife. Before she could rise, the door opened, revealing a guard.
“Me Lady,” he greeted, bowing. “I apologize for the intrusion, but the Laird has requested yer presence.”
Her breath caught, her heart fluttering in her chest as excitement and resistance wrestled inside her.
Did he mean what he said earlier? It wasnae mockery, then?
“I need a moment,” she said, recovering her composure. “Fetch Flora to help me get ready.”
The guard seemed to hesitate, shifting from one foot to the other. “Me Lady, he said it was urgent.”
She inhaled sharply, grinding her teeth as she got up and placed her carving and knife on the table.
Of course, it is. Always on his terms.
“I understand,” she said with a nod, reaching for her shawl and draping it around her shoulders.
If Rowan wanted to see her now, then he would have to receive her as she was. And he’d better not complain about it.
As she looked up, she was drawn to her half-finished carving on the table. She frowned slightly as the firelight bounced off its edges, the shape becoming clear.
A wolf.
Her fingers curled into the hem of her shawl. It seemed that along with her mind, her hands had betrayed her, too.
Turning away with a huff, she followed the guard into the dimly lit corridor. It seemed to stretch endlessly as they walked through it, her unease rising with every step.
She’d meant to avoid Rowan tonight, to hold her ground if only in this one small way.
Nothin’ about him has proven easy.
Taking a deep breath, she hardened herself, preparing mentally for whatever was to come.
He had turned away from her time and again, yet here she was, offering herself to him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rowan had not sat since entering his study. All afternoon, he had leaned over the table with maps spread across its surface, moving his eyes across the familiar boundaries.
