Page 79 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
“Sorcha.”
“Go, Rowan.” She lifted her chin. “Yer men are waitin’.”
He turned and walked away.
He did not look back, but he felt her gaze on him the entire way down the corridor.
His body still ached for her, still yearned for her, still remembered the heat of her skin beneath his palm and the sound of her gasp in his ears. He was still hard, straining againsthis breeches, and he walked with his jaw clenched and his hands clenched into fists and his mind full of her.
Tonight. When this is over, when Kerr is dealt with, when the danger has passed… Tonight, I willnae walk away.
The Great Hall was empty when Elspeth crept inside.
Morag had told her to stay in her chambers and had said that Flora would come for her when the dancing began. But Morag did not understand anything about Mr. Turtle.
Mr. Turtle needed to see the decorations. He had been waiting all day, and he would be terribly disappointed if he missed the excitement.
“Ye will be good,” Elspeth whispered to the turtle clutched against her chest. “Ye will be quiet. Nay one will see us. We will look at the flowers and ribbons, then go back. Morag will never ken.”
Mr. Turtle did not respond, being a turtle and also currently hiding inside his shell, but Elspeth chose to believe that he was listening.
The Great Hall was enormous when it was empty. The long tables stretched toward the far wall like sleeping giants, their white linen gleaming in the candlelight. Garlands of pine andheather hung from the rafters, filling the air with a sharp, sweet scent. The hearth had been swept clean, and someone had placed candles everywhere, their flames flickering like captured stars.
“It is beautiful,” Elspeth breathed. She spun in a slow circle, her skirt flaring around her legs. “Is it nae beautiful, Mr. Turtle?”
A door slammed somewhere nearby.
Elspeth froze. Her heart kicked against her ribs when she heard the footsteps approaching. Heavy, fast, and angry.
She dropped to her knees and scrambled beneath the long oak table. She pressed herself against the wall, making herself as small as possible, and clutched Mr. Turtle so tightly that she could feel the hard curve of his shell through her dress.
Be quiet and still. Daenae make a sound.
The door to the Great Hall opened, and someone stepped inside.
“… worthless boy.” The voice was old and sharp and cruel. “I told ye to wait by the carriage. I told ye to stay where I could find ye. And where did ye go? Wanderin’ off like a lost puppy, embarrassin’ me in front of the MacLarens, makin’ me look like a fool.”
Elspeth pressed her hand over her mouth.
“I am sorry, Uncle,” a younger man replied. “I only wanted to see the decorations. I didnae mean to wander. I didnae mean to shame ye.”
“Shame.” The old man spat the word like poison. “Ye daenae ken the meaning of shame, boy. But ye will learn. Aye, ye will learn.”
A thud echoed through the hall, followed by a sharp intake of breath.
Elspeth squeezed her eyes shut.
I want Da. I want Da to come and make the bad man go away.
But her da was not here. He was outside, preparing for the hunt. He was in the yard with the horses and the men and the swords that glinted in the setting sun. He was too far away to hear her.
“Look at me.” The old man’s voice dropped lower. “Look at me when I am speaking to ye, boy.”
“I am sorry.”
“Ye are always sorry. Ye are sorry, and ye are useless, and ye are weak.”
He stopped. Elspeth heard him take a breath and heard the violence in his voice recede, just a little.
