Read Online Highland Obsession by Dawn Halliday - Free Book Online Page B

son?”
    Alan clenched his fists beneath the table. God, to make this admission, to admit to his incompetence at keeping her safe, nearly killed him. Stewart would surely hate him for failing to protect his daughter.
    This was his penance, he supposed. He must admit to his failure, then remedy it.
    Shame coursed through him, but he couldn’t let Stewart see it. Alan would get her back. No matter what horror Sorcha suffered at the earl’s hands, Alan vowed to never cast her off. A violent shudder ripped down Alan’s spine at the thought of Cam defiling his young, pure wife.
    Moira had seen his body quake. “Are you still cold?” She reached to remove his bowl, offering him a sympathetic smile. “There’s more broth.”
    “No thank you, lass.” He tried to return her smile but failed. He glanced back at the older man. “Sorcha and I had—” He cut a glance at Stewart’s daughter and shook his head. “We were—uh—about to go to sleep, when Cam—his lordship—crashed in, flung her over his shoulder, and rode away, leaving one of his henchmen. I fought him, then pursued the earl a few minutes later.”
    Stewart dropped his silver-topped head in his hands. “I should have known.”
    “Should have known what, sir?”
    He looked up at Alan with a bleak expression. “That was why I left the earl’s service. I am getting old, and I suffer from aches and pains. It was a valid enough excuse to leave my position at Camdonn Castle. There was also the problem that the earl’s political beliefs don’t particularly align with my own. But the true reason was that I didn’t like what I could see developing between him and my daughter.”
    Moira paused in her step as she walked past the table. Stewart glanced sharply up at her. She returned his stare, eyes wide, her guilty expression speaking volumes. She knew something. A secret had just been revealed.
    And suddenly, in the unspoken conversation between Moira and her father, it became crystal clear.
    “What are you doing, Cam?” Sorcha had cried as Cam tossed her over his shoulder.
    She had addressed him as Cam . She knew him well enough to speak to him informally, which meant she knew him very well indeed.
    She’d been so deliciously wanton in Alan’s bed, and although there was a shyness to her, she possessed none of the timidity he might imagine from a virgin. He hadn’t known what to expect, really, never having taken a virgin before, but he hadn’t felt any resistance from her maidenhead. He hadn’t seen any blood . . .
    Alan’s gut twisted. Goddammit. She’d played him false. She was no innocent.
    He needn’t worry about Cam defiling his wife. The bastard already had.
     
    After an hour spent in his study drinking whisky, Cam hesitated at his chamber door, clutching at the door handle as his body swayed unsteadily. He’d left Sorcha earlier, needing to straighten his twisted thoughts before doing something to her he knew he’d later regret.
    He would sleep elsewhere tonight; sleeping beside her would present a temptation he was powerless to resist. But he wished to check in on her once more, perhaps watch her in slumber as he had in the past. Her sweet red lips parted as she breathed deeply, her body relaxed, her dark hair cascading over the snow-white pillow.
    Slowly, so as not to wake her, he unlocked the door and pushed the handle. Well oiled, it swung open silently.
    He stepped inside. Saw his bed, with the curtains still open. Her back to him, Sorcha lay curled in a ball on top of the green and black silk counterpane.
    He stopped in his tracks. Had she made a noise? And then he saw her shoulders shaking as sobs racked her small body.
    He’d never seen her cry like this. She’d let a tear escape earlier, but that was one single tear trailing down the side of her face, and that had nearly broken him. Now she cried with her whole body—great, wrenching, heaving sobs that made his blood run cold.
    He wanted to go to her, to comfort her. How could