Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Couldnae sleep either?"
Liliane spun from the kitchen doorway to find Catherine sitting on the counter, a honey-cake in one hand and what looked like her third or fourth clutched in the other. Crumbs dotted the front of her nightgown.
"I was just, I didnae mean tae intrude," Liliane stammered.
"Intrude? On what? Me midnight raid on the larder?" Catherine grinned and gestured to the platter beside her. "Come, have one, or five. I willnae tell if ye willnae."
Liliane hesitated, then moved into the kitchen. The hearth fire had burned low, casting the room in warm shadows. It felt safe somehow, intimate in a way the grand chambers never did.
"Here." Catherine thrust a honey-cake at her. "Cook makes them too well. It's practically a crime nae tae eat them all."
Liliane took it, the sweet scent making her stomach rumble despite her churning thoughts. "Thank ye."
"So." Catherine bit into her own cake, studying Liliane with unsettling directness. "What's got ye wanderin’ the halls at midnight? Most new brides would be... occupied this time of night."
Heat flooded Liliane's face. "That's none of yer business."
"Aye, except ye're nae in yer chambers. Ye're down here, lookin’ like ye've seen a ghost and cannae decide whether tae run from it or toward it." Catherine's voice gentled. "What happened?"
"Naethin’ happened."
"Liar." But there was no judgment in the word. "Talk tae me, Liliane. I promise I willnae tell me braithers anythin’ ye say."
Liliane sank onto the bench across from where Catherine sat perched on the counter. "How dae ye ken somethin's wrong?"
Catherine swung her legs idly. "Because ye look like a woman who's just had her whole world turned upside down and isnae sure which way is up anymore."
The accuracy of that observation made Liliane's throat tight. "It's complicated."
"Love usually is."
"It's nae love," Liliane said quickly. "It's... we barely ken each other."
"And yet here ye are, midnight kitchen wanderin’ instead of sleepin’ peacefully in yer chamber." Catherine took another bite. "Tell me what happened. Or dinnae. Ye look like ye need tae talk ae someone, and I'm conveniently available and excellent at keepin’ secrets."
Liliane stared at the honey-cake in her hands, turning it over and over. "We almost kissed. Earlier."
"Almost?"
"He pulled away. Before... before it could happen."
"And that's botherin’ ye?" Catherine's voice held understanding rather than mockery. "The fact that he stopped?"
"Nay, aye. I dinnae ken." Liliane set down the untouched cake. "I told him earlier that if I had the chance, I'd still try tae leave. And then later, when we were close, he just... stopped. Pulled away like I'd burned him."
"Ah." Catherine was quiet for a moment. "And ye think he stopped because of what ye said? About leavin’?"
"What else could it be?"
"Oh, I dinnae ken. Maybe the fact that forcing’ intimacy on a woman who's already told him she wants tae escape would make him exactly the kind of man he's tryin’ nae tae be?"
The words hit Liliane like cold water. "What?"
"Tòrr's nae stupid, Liliane. He kens ye dinnae want tae be here. He kens this marriage wasnae yer choice." Catherine's expression was serious now, all teasing gone. "Dae ye really think he'd take advantage of a moment of weakness? When ye're confused and conflicted and nae sure what ye want?"
"I—" Liliane hadn't thought about it that way.
"Just because the law says he can dae somethin’ daesnae mean he will. Tòrr's spent his whole life protectin’ women, me, our sisters, our maither when she was alive. He's nae goin’ tae force himself on ye just because some paper says he's allowed tae."
"Then why did he seem so... frustrated? Angry, even?"
"Because he wanted tae kiss ye, ye daft woman." Catherine laughed softly. "Because he's attracted tae ye, probably cares about ye more than he should already, and stoppin’ himself from takin’ what he wanted took every scrap of self-control he has."
Liliane's heart was pounding now, her mind racing. "But I didnae ask him tae stop."
"Didnae ye? With yer words earlier about leavin’, about nae acceptin’ this marriage?" Catherine slid off the counter and came to sit beside her. "Actions and words both tell people what we want."
"That's nae fair."
"Nay, it's nae. None of this is fair tae either of ye.
" Catherine's voice was gentle. "But it's what ye have tae work with." She continued, "That maybe, just maybe, this forced marriage could become somethin’ real. Somethin’ good." Catherine touched her shoulder lightly. "That maybe stayin’ wouldne be givin’ up. It would just be... choosin’ differently than ye planned. "
"I have reasons fer wantin’ tae leave," Liliane said quietly. "Good reasons. Important reasons."
"I'm sure ye dae." Catherine didn't press, and Liliane felt grateful for that small mercy. "But ask yerself this, are those reasons still valid? Or are they becomin’ excuses tae keep runnin’ from somethin’ that scares ye?"
"What scares me?"
"Feelin’ somethin’ fer a man ye're supposed tae hate. Admittin’ that maybe being his wife isnae the worst thing that could happen tae ye." Catherine stood, brushing crumbs from her nightgown. "Lettin’ yerself be happy when ye think ye dinnae deserve tae be."
"I never said I dinnae deserve happiness."
"Ye didnae have to. It's written all over yer face every time someone shows ye kindness.
" Catherine's voice was soft. "Whatever happened tae ye before ye came here, whatever ye're running from or toward, it's made ye believe that wantin’ things fer yerself is selfish.
That ye dinnae get tae choose what makes ye happy. "
Liliane stared at her, unable to form words past the lump in her throat.
"Think about what ye really want, Liliane.
Nae what ye think ye should want, or what others need from ye.
What dae ye want?" Catherine moved toward the door. "And when ye figure it out, maybe tell me braither. Because watchin’ ye two dance around each other is exhaustin’, and I'm runnin’ out of honey-cakes tae stress-eat. "
"Catherine?"
The girl turned, her expression expectant.
"Why are ye being so kind tae me? Ye dinnae even ken me."
"Dinnae I?" Catherine smiled. "I guess I just ken ye're worth being kind tae."
After she left, Liliane sat alone in the quiet kitchen, the honey-cake forgotten beside her. Her mind kept replaying the moment in their chamber. The heat in Tòrr's eyes, the way his hands had felt on her, the disappointment that had crashed through her when he'd pulled away.
She'd told herself she didn't want him. That she was only enduring this marriage until she could escape.
But that disappointment... that aching sense of something lost, those weren't the feelings of a woman who truly wanted to leave.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
The next morning, Liliane woke alone in Tòrr's bed, their bed, she supposed she should call it now. The space beside her was cold, untouched. He'd spent the night elsewhere. In the library, probably, or maybe in a chair by the fire in one of the solars.
Anywhere but here. With me.
She dressed quickly and braided her hair with fingers that slightly shook. The previous night's conversation with Catherine had shaken something loose inside her, making her question everything she'd been so certain about.
I need tae think. Tae sort through the tangle of wants and fears and obligations without Tòrr's presence clouding me judgment.
At breakfast, she barely touched her food, responding to conversation with half-formed answers that drew concerned looks from Sofia and Alyson.
"Are ye feelin’ well?" Sofia asked quietly. "Ye look pale."
"Just tired." Liliane forced a smile. "I didnae sleep well."
"Still havin’ weddin’ nerves?" Alyson's voice held understanding. "Perfectly natural."
If only it were that simple.
But Liliane just nodded and pushed her porridge around her bowl.
When Tòrr entered the hall, favoring his ankle, conversation stilled.
"Morning, braither," Alyson said, her tone careful.
"Tòrr," Sofia added softly.
"Sisters." He nodded to each of them in turn, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on Liliane.
Their eyes met across the space. Acknowledgment passed between them, and for a moment their eyes remained locked.
Then his expression hardened, and he looked away first, taking his seat at the high table without a word to her.
The distance should have relieved her. Instead, it felt like a physical ache.
Sofia shot her sister a warning look before turning to her brother. "There's fresh bread, braither. Liliane, ye should have—"
"I'm fine." Liliane stood abruptly, her chair scraping against stone. She didn’t miss the look the sisters exchanged before they excused themselves.
"I, um, I might as well go. Excuse me," Lilianne muttered, hurrying after the sisters.
Throughout the day, she kept herself busy, away from Tòrr and glued to Sofia’s side.
"Hand me that basket, would ye?" Sofia asked as they sorted through linens in the storage room. "We'll need twice this many if half the village shows up for the festival."
Liliane passed it over mechanically. "How many usually come?"
"Enough tae drink us dry and dance till dawn." Sofia paused, studying her. "Ye're awfully quiet today."
"Just tired."
"Mmm. Tired." Sofia's tone suggested she didn't believe that for a moment. "Naethin’ tae dae with me braither broodin’ at the high table like a thundercloud?"
"I dinnae ken what ye mean."
"Of course ye dinnae."
Later, Catherine found her in the gardens, chattering as she clipped herbs.
"—and then Duncan MacGregor's youngest tried tae impress Mary by singin', but he sounded like a cat bein' strangled, I swear it—" Catherine looked up, grinning. "Are ye even listenin'?"
"What? Aye. The cat."
Catherine's smile faded. "Ye haven't heard a word I've said."
"I'm sorry. I'm just—"
"Thinkin' about Tòrr?" Catherine set down her shears. "He's been impossible all day too, ye ken. Snapped at Michael twice, threatened tae knock sense into him."
Liliane's chest tightened. "That's daesnae have anythin’ tae dae with me."
"Daes it nae?" Catherine tilted her head. "Ye're married tae him. Seems like it should be. What dae ye want, Liliane?"
"I am nae sure."
But she knew exactly what it was she wanted, just that she could not admit it to any of Tòrr’s sisters.
To save Nessa.
That was clear and unchanged. Her sister's safety mattered more than anything. But Tòrr had offered to help her learn healing. He'd promised she could train with Moira, build real skills, make a difference in people's lives.
Could she trust that offer? Could she believe he wouldn't use it as leverage later, another chain to bind her?
And more confusing still, did she even want to leave anymore?
Later, when she took the herbs she had gathered to the healer’s chambers, the thought of what she needed to do continued to churn in her mind.
"Ye're distracted today," Moira, with whom she had become friendly with over the past days, observed, grinding something with her mortar. "Mind elsewhere?"
"Just thinkin’ about the festival." The lie came easily now.
"Hmm." The healer’s knowing look suggested she wasn't fooled. "First public appearance as Lady MacDonald. I imagine that's weighin’ on ye."
"Among other things."
"The laird seems distracted too," She continued, her tone carefully casual. "Saw him this mornin’, limpin’ somethin’ fierce. That paste ye made helped, I'd wager, but he's pushin’ too hard on that ankle."
"He's stubborn."
"Aye, that he is. But so are ye, I'm thinkin’." She glanced at her. "Takes a stubborn woman tae survive what ye've survived and come out still fightin’."
"I'm nae fightin’ anymore," Liliane said quietly. "I'm just... tryin’ tae figure out what I'm supposed tae dae now."
"Supposed tae dae? Or want tae dae?"
There was that question again, the one Catherine had asked. The one Liliane still couldn't answer.
"I dinnae ken the difference anymore."
"Then maybe it's time ye figured it out." Moira set down her mortar. "Before ye make a choice ye cannae take back."