Page 9 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
In the glass pane, Sorcha watched Flora’s eyes flicker down. Her foot tapped incessantly against the floor beneath the dress.Her mind raced with fragments of memories, the way Ailis was terrified of this day. And now it was hers by default.
“So… how was yer meetin’ with the Wolf?” Flora asked with a nervous smile. “He looked fearsome when he arrived.”
Sorcha remembered when he rode through the gates. The courtyard fell into a hush, the air charged. For a moment, she forgot she was not part of the crowd, rising on her tiptoes to get a better view of him. But then her eyes caught his, and the force of his steely gaze set her back down.
Even from a distance, his aura was unmistakable.
“He lives up to his reputation.”
“I was so worried about ye when he dragged ye away.”
Sorcha snorted at the exaggeration. “He didnae drag me.”
“He might as well have!” Flora said, her tone scolding. “Walkin’ so quickly, almost leavin’ ye behind. He’s lucky ye’re light on yer feet!”
Sorcha laughed, shaking her head. “Well, he didnae do anything unpleasant when we were alone.”
The fear nearly took over when she stood before him in the solar. It took everything in her to stand her ground, even as he circled her with predatory grace.
Her fingers curled in her lap, the memory of his presence tightening her chest all over again.
Flora hummed, twisting the ribbon through her hair. “Are ye still nervous about the wedding now that ye’ve met him?”
Sorcha answered honestly, “Aye.”
And yet, underneath her fear was something else. She felt it when Rowan spoke in that low timbre. When he stood so close that she could smell the leather and salt on his skin. When his eyes would not leave hers.
Her mind flashed to the scar across his right eye, deep from brow to cheek.
I wonder what happened to him.
Flora gave Sorcha’s shoulder a light squeeze, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Ye’re so brave, ye ken.”
Sorcha met Flora’s eyes in the glass, tilting her head slightly. “How do ye mean?”
“Marryin’ the Wolf in yer sister’s place.”
“I daenae have a choice.”
“Aye, but I ken ye. Even if yer braither didnae ask, ye still would’ve done it.”
Sorcha looked down at her lap, biting her lip.
I’m nae sure I would have. I’m nae that brave.
When Flora finished tying the final ribbon, Sorcha rose slowly. She looked herself over, barely recognizing the woman in the glass.
The green wool clung close to her waist, her braided hair falling neatly over her shoulder, ribbons woven through the strands.
She looked every inch a bride.
Just not the right one.
She tugged lightly at the bodice and sleeves, then her hand rose to adjust the plaid. “This would’ve suited Ailis better.”
“Daenae be so hard on yerself. Ye look bonnie, me Lady. Everyone will think so,” Flora insisted.
But Sorcha hardly heard her.
