Page 28 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
Rowan understood well enough what he meant. A son meant stability. A future laird.
“A son would quiet a good many restless thoughts,” Ewan added.
Walking through the ash, Rowan surveyed the damage again. “Me people eat before I worry about heirs.”
Ewan sighed, but there was a fondness in it. “I didnae expect any less from ye, me Laird.” A grin tugged at his mouth. “Speakin’ of heirs, is yer wife nae waitin’ for ye? Plan on sleepin’ in the ashes tonight?”
Rowan shot him a look that would have quieted most men. But Ewan was still grinning like a dobber.
Rowan’s jaw flexed as the image of Sorcha returned uninvited. Pressed against the stone wall, her blue eyes flashing with angeras she argued with him like she had known him for years instead of hours. Furious. Defiant.
And God help him, she had been beautiful in a way that made his blood run hot even now, an hour later, standing in the ruins of his grain stores.
He turned away from the memory as if it burned him.
The barn comes first.
He did not say goodbye to Ewan as he turned to leave.
Behind him, Ewan’s amused voice drifted out of the ruined barn. “Try nae to frighten the poor lass too badly, Rowan.”
The cold wind struck Rowan’s face as he stepped into the courtyard, the gust carrying the last wisps of smoke away into the dark.
Sorcha would be waiting for him. The memory of her small hand in his own refused to leave his mind.
I should never have touched her.
He mounted his horse and rode towards the keep, praying he had enough strength not to touch her again.
CHAPTER TEN
Sorcha cursed herself as she paced the room. She tried not to think, but it proved impossible.
The chamber seemed to have grown smaller with every passing moment. The fire had burned down to a low, glowing hush, and the lavender scattered around the room gave the air a softness that only heightened her nerves.
Even with Flora’s reassurances, she felt uneasy waiting for Rowan to arrive. The white shift, though modest, made it all worse. It was the intention of it that made her feel naked. She was meant to be seen. Meant to be touched.
This is ridiculous! I stood before me braither, taking me sister’s place. I rode in strange lands beside a man feared across the Highlands. I even faced death, for God’s sake! And yet…
Her nerves were drawn tight, the waiting almost undoing her.
She went still as she heard footsteps approaching. But they continued past her door and faded into silence. A strange mix of disappointment and relief flooded her chest.
I cannae even tell what I want.
Frustrated with herself, she almost began to pace again when another set of steps approached. Heavier. Slower.
They stopped at her door.
Her stomach flipped. Her mind started to race as panic surged through her.
Should I be lyin’ in bed, or should I remain standin’? What should I say?
But before she could make sense of her thoughts, the door opened. Her whole body went alert at once, every thought scattering as though startled into flight.
Rowan stepped inside, dressed in black riding leathers. The smell of smoke and cold wind followed him in, mixing with the lavender. The faint glow of the hearth caught the angles of his face, his scar prominent even in the dark.
He looked tired, rougher than when she had seen him earlier on the stairs. He looked less like a bridegroom and more like what the rumors said about him.
