Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"Still awake, are ye?"
Liliane jumped at the sound of Tòrr's voice echoing into the empty corridor.
She'd been walking past the library on her way back to the chamber when she'd noticed the light still burning through the open door. She’d hesitated, curious to know whether he was inside or not, when his voice had boomed over to her.
Pretend ye didnae hear him. Keep walking. Go straight tae bed and dinnae complicate things further.
But her feet stopped on their own accord. She turned, standing in the doorway, peering in at him.
Tòrr sat at the large oak desk, papers spread before him, a single candle casting shadows across his face. He looked tired, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from carrying too much responsibility for too long.
"Are ye goin' tae stand there all night, or are ye goin' tae come in?"
His coolness in his voice startled her. Especially, as he hadn't even looked up from his papers.
"I was just… I didnae mean tae disturb ye."
"Ye're nae disturbin' me." He set down his quill and finally met her eyes. "Unless ye're afraid tae come near me. Is that it, lass? Afraid of what might happen if ye step through that door?"
The challenge in his tone sparked something in her chest. "I'm nae afraid of ye."
"Then prove it. Come in. Sit with me a moment."
She hesitated, every instinct screaming at her to turn and leave. But something, whether pride, or curiosity, or even the desire for his company after his coldness that morning, made her step into the library and close the door behind her.
The room smelled of old books and wood smoke. Shelves lined every wall, filled with more volumes than she'd seen her entire life. A fire crackled in the hearth, warming the space despite the late hour.
"Sit." He gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Please."
She moved cautiously, settling into the offered seat. The desk between them felt like both barrier and bridge.
"Couldnae sleep?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Nay. And ye?"
"Too much work tae be done." He gestured at the papers. "Land disputes, trade agreements, patrol schedules. The glamorous life of a laird."
Despite herself, her lips twitched. "Sounds thrillin'."
"Oh, aye.”
"I didnae come here at all tae disturb ye. I was passin' by."
"And stopped. And lingered in the doorway. And came in." His eyes held hers. "Why, Liliane?"
"I dinnae ken," she admitted quietly. "Maybe because despite everythin', me stay here has been... pleasant."
Something shifted in his expression. "Pleasant?"
"Aye. Yer siblings are kind. There's warmth in yer hall. People smile at me in the corridors, treat me with a respect I never had at Foulis. It's more than I expected. More than I thought possible."
"But nae enough tae make ye want tae stay."
She didn't answer, couldn't answer. Not when the truth was so tangled she couldn't separate want from duty anymore.
"Tell me about yer family," he said suddenly.
Her hands tightened around the cup. "There's nae much tae tell."
"Isnae there?”
The question pierced something tender inside her. She shouldn't answer. Shouldn't reveal the one thing that could be used against her.
But looking at him, seeing genuine interest rather than calculation in his eyes, the words spilled out before she could stop them.
Her voice softened at the thought of Nessa. "Me sister's fourteen. Sweet, trustin’. Too innocent fer the world we live in." She paused, her fingers working themselves on her lap. "When our maither died, Nessa didnae understand why Mama wouldnae wake up, why she'd stopped smilin' at us."
Liliane's throat tightened. "I had tae explain that the fever took her, but that wasnae the whole truth. Mama had been sufferin’ fer years until her body just... gave up."
She glanced up at Tòrr, not sure what to make of the sympathy she saw in his yes, before looking down at her hands.
"Even before our Ma passed, I had become everythin' tae Nessa. Maither, sister, protector. I taught her tae read, showed her which herbs could soothe a headache, held her when she had nightmares."
"Ye care fer her deeply."
"She's all I have left that matters." The admission cost her, but she couldn't take it back now. "Our maither died when Nessa was little. Since then, I've been... I've tried tae be everythin’ she needs."
"Before the auction, Munro threatened tae send Nessa in me place if I refused tae comply. That's why I agreed tae be sold, tae protect me sister." She continued.
Tòrr was quiet for a long moment, something hard and unreadable flickering across his face.
"I understand that burden."
"Dae ye?"
"Aye.”
She stared at him, seeing him clearly for the first time, not as the laird who'd bought her, but as a man who understood the weight she carried.
"Did ye try tae refuse?" Tòrr leaned back in his chair, as he asked quietly. "The auction."
Liliane's laugh was bitter. "Of course! Ye think I didnae tried?" She wrapped her arms around herself. "I told me faither I wouldnae dae it. That he could beat me, lock me away, but I wouldnae stand on that platform tae be sold like cattle."
"What did he say?"
Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "He said if I didnae comply, Nessa would take me place."
Tòrr went very still.
"She's fourteen, Tòrr. Fourteen." Liliane's eyes glistened.
"He dragged her intae his solar, made her stand there while he told me exactly what would happen.
How he'd dress her up, parade her before those men, sell her tae the highest bidder.
And she—" Her voice cracked. "She looked at me with those trusting eyes and said she'd dae it if it meant I could stay safe. "
"Christ. The bastard. I could kill him right now."
"Believe me, I’ve wanted tae dae that so many times. But aye, that’s why I agreed. What choice did I have?" She turned away from him. "I've spent ten years protectin' me sister from him, from his rages, from everythin'. I wasnae about tae fail her then."
Tòrr moved closer, his hand hovering near her shoulder but not quite touching. "Ye didnae fail her, Liliane."
"Didnae I? She's still there, under his roof, while I'm here." Her shoulders shook. "And now that his plans with me have failed, what's tae stop him from—"
"I willnae let that happen."
She whirled to face him. "Ye cannae promise that."
"I can." His voice was steel. "And I will."
Their eyes met and held, before she nodded, letting out a loud sigh. "It's exhaustin', isnae it?" she whispered. "Always being strong. Never allowin' yerself tae break."
"Aye. But what choice dae either of us have? They depend on us."
"And who dae we depend on?"
The question hung between them, heavy with implication. His eyes held hers, and she saw her own loneliness reflected back at her.
"I suppose that's the price of being the one others lean on," he said finally. "We learn tae stand alone."
"Is that what ye want? Tae stand alone?"
"Nay." The simple honesty of it surprised her. "But wantin' and havin' are different things, lass. Ye should ken that better than most."
She did. God, she did.
"Ye should get some rest," he said, breaking the moment.
Liliane didn’t move. The warmth between them lingered in the air, fragile as spun glass. Her fingers brushed the edge of the table, tracing the grain as if to anchor herself before she found the courage to speak.
"Ye're… nae comin' tae the chamber?" she asked finally, her voice softer than she meant it to be.
Tòrr's quill stilled midair. He looked up at her, the lamplight catching the green in his eyes. "Nay," he said quietly. "I'll be spendin' the night here. Still have work tae finish."
Her breath caught, a faint disappointment stirring where she hadn’t expected it. "In that chair? Ye'll wake with yer back twisted worse than yer ankle."
"I've slept in worse places," he replied, and though his tone was mild, his mouth curved in a small, knowing smile that told her he understood exactly what she’d meant.
She stood slowly, reluctant to leave the fragile peace they'd stumbled into. For a heartbeat, she reached out—then stopped herself, fingers curling against her palm.
He picked up his quill again, a deliberate dismissal. "Go on, lass. Get some sleep."
She left the library, her mind churning with confusion. Every conversation with him seemed to shift the ground beneath her feet, making her question everything she'd been so certain about.
Back in their chamber, she lay alone in their bed and stared at the ceiling, conflicted by emotions she couldn't name.
She'd spoken of Nessa. Revealed her greatest vulnerability to the one man who could use it against her. Yet somehow, she didn't feel more trapped. She felt... seen. Understood in a way she'd never experienced before.
And that terrified her more than any cage ever could.
"Me laird, a rider's arrived."
Tòrr looked up from breaking his fast, noting the tension in the guard's face. "From where?"
"Munro lands. He carries a sealed letter. Says it's urgent."
Every conversation in the hall died as Tòrr stood. "Bring him tae the council chamber. Gather Michael and the elders immediately."
Within minutes, they were assembled—his brother, Elder Malcolm and Gregor, Captain Fraser of the guard, and the nervous rider who'd delivered the message. The wax seal bore Roderick Munro's mark, pressed deep into the blood-red wax.
Tòrr broke it open and read in silence.
"Well?" Michael demanded. "What daes the bastard want?"
"He wants Liliane returned." Tòrr's voice was flat. "Claims the marriage is unlawful. That I forced his daughter against her will and his consent."
"Forced?" Elder Malcolm's face reddened. "Ye paid more than fair coin at a legal auction! How is that force?"
"He's graspin' at straws," Michael said. "Tryin' tae find any angle tae challenge the marriage."