Page 33 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
For the first time since arriving at the keep, Sorcha felt something settle inside her. Not certainty, but the faint beginning of belonging.
Of hope.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The first sun rays chased away the morning fog, the air crisp and cool against Rowan’s skin as he turned the earth in heavy strokes with his blade. He broke apart damp clods to prepare the ground for replanting.
What remained after the fire last night was not enough. They had to plant whatever they could before the winter came upon them.
If I daenae find who did this, it will happen again.
He had walked through the storehouse ruins before sunrise to see the progress the men had made. They had already finished clearing what they could salvage, but besides the bootprints he had found, there was nothing else to lead him to the culprits.
And yet that wasnae what kept me awake all night.
His jaw flexed as he drove the blade deeper into the earth.
He had lain awake in his bed, feeling restless as Sorcha’s face flashed over and over through his mind. Angry. Hurt.
Even though she tried to hide her feelings behind her pride—Nay, I made the right choice. I cannae doom her to the same fate as Elspeth’s ma.
Suddenly, the wind shifted across the field, carrying a sound that did not belong among the scrape of tools or the mutters of his men—a child’s laughter.
Elspeth.
Rowan glanced toward the rise beyond the field, his eyes finding them at once at the pond Elspeth frequented every morning.
Elspeth was sitting by the edge of the pond, leaning over the water. Her voice carried easily across the open space, bright as she pointed toward the turtles. Sorcha’s maid was leaning against the willow tree, watching her.
And then there was Sorcha.
She was kneeling next to Elspeth, the mud on the hem of her dress reminding him of how she had looked yesterday. She said something that made Elspeth laugh heartily.
Elspeth rarely laughs like that.She isnae an unhappy child; I’ve made sure of that. But there is always something missing.
Yet there she was, clapping excitedly, looking at ease next to Sorcha in a way that made him uncomfortable. In a way that pulled at something deep in his chest.
She doesnae cling to most people. What is it about Sorcha that attracts her so?
And then something else rang in the air.
Sorcha’s laughter.
The sound struck him in his chest before he realized what it was. It was not loud or forced the way he would expect her to sound. It was light. Unrestrained.
Rowan went still.
I didnae think her capable of laughin’ like that.
She had thrown her head back slightly, one hand pressed against her ribs as Elspeth said something that clearly delighted her.
He straightened slowly, wiping his hands on the rough linen of his sleeves. The sound pulled him forward before he thought to stop himself.
Elspeth caught sight of him as he approached. “Da!”
She scrambled up and hurried toward him, stumbling as she ran. He bent down, catching her before she collided with his legs. He rested his hand on the back of her head, his palm nearly covering half her hair.
“And what mischief have ye been up to this mornin’?” he asked quietly.
