Free Highland Obsession by Dawn Halliday

he, though, when he was the source of her grief? He remained rooted to the spot, his hands fisted at his sides, frozen with indecision.
    He wanted Sorcha. He needed her. She was his. Damn it, he loved her.
    And she might have loved him too, once. But she would never forgive him for this, for the wrong he had done her tonight. And by God, it tore him apart to see her suffer.
    It struck him, in a moment of clarity in his whisky-muddled mind—the only way he could hope to win her love was to let her go.
    But that didn’t make any sense, damn it! He wished he hadn’t drunk so much. Sluggishly, he brought a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. Deep in her grief, she still hadn’t noticed his presence in the room.
    If he let her go, she’d return to Alan MacDonald.
    Alan MacDonald, once his closest friend, would never forgive him either.
    Cam shook his head. His obsession with Sorcha had eclipsed his friendship with Alan, as if it were absolutely meaningless. They’d been like brothers . . . and in one brazen move, Cam had obliterated years of companionship. Severed the bonds of friendship formed long ago by two Highland lads in the midst of hostile English schoolboys.
    Had he lost both the people he loved most in this world? With one foolish action?
    How he wished he could go back in time. After watching Alan come over Sorcha’s stomach, instead of barging in on them, he’d turn away and ride up the mountain to slake his lust on a welcoming whore.
    But no. That wouldn’t have worked. Then neither Alan nor Sorcha would know his heart. He couldn’t have kept it from them forever, could he?
    God, he couldn’t let her go. It would surely kill him if he did.
    But he must.
    He knew it. He would not keep the woman he loved against her will, threatening her with rape every minute of the day. It would drive him mad, and she’d only grow to hate him, despise him with all the formidable strength contained within that small, lovely body.
    He couldn’t do this to Alan. Couldn’t throw his power in Alan’s face and dishonor him in the eyes of his clan so soon after his friend had returned to claim his legacy.
    Quietly, he turned around and retraced his steps back into the hall. Feeling as though he’d left part of his soul inside the room with her, he closed the door. Then he leaned against it and sank to his arse on the cold planks of the floor, dropping his face in his hands.
    He had no choice. He had to release her.
    He’d take her home in the morning.
    Damn it to hell.

CHAPTER FOUR

    S orcha froze. The door had just shut, she was certain of it. But she couldn’t feel a presence nearby. Gulping back a sob, she swiped the back of her hand over her damp eyes and slowly turned over.
    Nobody was in the room. Which meant someone had come in and then left, while she had been too absorbed in her misery to notice. She sat up stiffly, clutching the plaid to her chest, her mouth tight with frustration. She was too weak. Her weakness made her vulnerable, and she couldn’t allow herself to be vulnerable.
    For long moments, she stared at the door. Made of thick planks, it concealed most outside noise, and she heard nothing. Yet she imagined the intruder was just beyond, debating whether to interrupt her.
    Was it Cam? Most likely. Heat prickled through her cheeks at the thought he had seen her cry. She had never wept in his presence before. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d wept.
    He’d left her over an hour ago without explanation, though his face had been twisted with some dark emotion. She couldn’t fathom what he’d been thinking, but his departure had stunned her for a long while. Cam had never left her naked in bed before. Thank the Lord for whatever had possessed him to do so tonight.
    She’d tried to find a way out, but the door was bolted from the outside, and jumping from Cam’s window was impossible—even if she could fit her body through the narrow slit, she’d likely break a leg, if not her neck,