Page 34 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
“I was showin’ Lady Sorcha and Flora Mr. Turtle’s home!” she replied proudly, pointing to the pond.
Rowan followed her finger, his grey eyes meeting blue.
Sorcha stood close to the pond, her blue eyes catching the sunlight glancing off the water. But they were devoid of the joy he had seen in them earlier. Her mirth had vanished entirely, replaced by her usual gentle but tight composure, which made her feel suddenly distant. She drew her shawl closer around her shoulders, watching him cautiously.
He found the change difficult to ignore.
Elspeth tugged on his sleeve, dragging him toward the pond. “Come see them, Da,” she insisted.
He let her drag him, listening patiently as she pointed to each turtle and explained the family hierarchy. A small smile tugged at his mouth before he could stop it.
Behind him, Flora cleared her throat gently. “Lady Elspeth,” she said brightly. “Would ye show me which one is Mr. Turtle’s ma? I’m afraid I still cannae tell them apart.”
Elspeth’s attention snapped instantly toward her. “She’s over there!” she declared, tugging on Flora’s sleeve as she pulled her to the other side of the pond, leaving Rowan and Sorcha alone.
Neither of them spoke at first, Elspeth’s chatter in the background filling the silence. Then Sorcha spoke, polite as always.
“Ye’ve been busy this mornin’.”
Rowan glanced down at his hands. They were still stained with dirt from working the fields. “Aye. There is always work to be done.”
Silence settled heavily between.
Sorcha avoided his gaze, watching Elspeth and Flora instead.
I should leave.
The thought came quickly, but his feet did not move.
“Elspeth seems fond of ye,” he noted. “She doesnae warm up to most people.”
She smiled. “I’m fond of her too.”
The admission stirred something warm in his chest, unfamiliar enough that he did not trust it. He drew a long breath, forcing the reaction back beneath the surface where it belonged.
Whatever stood between us last night hasnae moved. But this is for the best. This is what I want, is it nae?
But when her eyes met his again, the memory of her in the firelight returned with brutal clarity.
“Last night,” he said, his voice low so that only she could hear, “I left things unfinished.”
She stiffened, her eyebrows knitting together. He thought she might lash out, be as angry as she had been the night before, but she did not.
“I’ll come to ye tonight,” he added.
Her eyes widened, clearly caught off guard, and her fingers curled into the fabric of her shawl.
Normally, he would have turned away and left her with the words and the distance between them. But this time, he stayed. He did not realize he was holding his breath until the silence stretched too long.
Sorcha shifted her weight, clearly unsure of what to say. Then she sucked in a sharp breath. “Aye.”
The word barely rose above the rustle of the willow branches, but Rowan heard it. Something tight in his chest eased at once.
“Good,” he said simply.
Then, before the warmth in her eyes could draw him any closer, he stepped back.
He turned and strode back across the field, forcing his thoughts away from the pond behind him.
