Page 29 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
A Wolf.
He did not speak, his storm-grey eyes burning straight through her. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, and her legs stiffened as if she were cornered in a hunt.
His eyes roamed over her face, slow and dangerous, sending a shiver through her. She became painfully aware of every inch of her bare throat, every strand of hair unbound from her head.
He approached her.
She inhaled sharply. Her body wanted to retreat, muscles tight as she held her ground.
His hand rose and hovered over her waist, as if of its own accord. But then he pulled away. Something changed in his expression; the heat of the moment shuttered behind something she could not discern.
“There are matters more urgent than beds tonight.” His voice was cold, as if he were talking to someone other than his wife. “We’ve enough time to make an heir.”
Sorcha did not expect the ache in her chest when he spoke. His words were not cruel, not really. But she could hear what they carried beneath them.
She swallowed the hurt, standing straight. “Or maybe ye wanted someone different?” She could not hide the tightness in her voice.
Something dangerous flickered in Rowan’s eyes. She almost took a step back, afraid that she had gone too far. But then it vanished, replaced with the hardened, stony expression she’d come to know well.
“I want many things,” he said coolly. “None are yer concern.”
Her jaw throbbed from clenching it, pushing down the tears of frustration that wanted to rise.
What was I expectin’? That he wanted me?
Embarrassment came sharp.
Sorcha wrapped her arms around herself, ashamed that she had prepared herself for tonight. Ashamed that she had allowed herself even the smallest spark of hope.
It had been there. She saw that now with painful clarity. Not hope for tenderness, not something so fanciful as affection, but at least some acknowledgment that this night belonged to them both.
“Then why come at all?”
He exhaled, the muscles in his jaw flexing as if he were holding himself back. Then he turned and strode back to the door.
Seriously? Nothin’ to say? Nothin’ at all?
She almost called after him. Nearly demanded something she did not know what to name. But then he was gone, shutting the door with enough force that a pot of lavender toppled and shattered on the stone floor.
Her body trembled as she knelt on the floor and picked up the jagged pieces of the pot. The floor blurred as the tears she’d been holding back spilled down her cheeks in a flood she could not stop.
I didnae even want this marriage, so why? Why do I feel this way?
She threw the pieces she had gathered back on the floor and dropped her face into her hands, holding back a sob.
Of course, he wanted someone different. He came for Ailis, nae me, with me bruised knees and me sharp tongue.
Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself, wiping her tears with her hand. This was just her duty, after all. That was what this was meant to be. It always was just that.
So why did his rejection feel personal?
Because some foolish part of me wants him to choose me anyway.
She sat there for a moment longer, holding herself steady.
Finally calm, she picked up the pieces and carried them to the table with more care than they deserved. But the hurt remained. It settled deeper than wounded pride, somewhere she did not want to think about too deeply.
Whatever Rowan meant to do with her, one truth had already made itself known: he had looked at her like a man standing too near the edge of something he wanted and left her to feel like she was not enough.
