Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"Let me down!"
"Nae until ye calm yerself." Tòrr said, voice sharp above the wind. “Ye can stop tryin’ tae bite me hand off now.”
"I am calm!" But even as Liliane said it, she knew it was a lie. Her heart was racing, her hands were shaking with fury, and if she'd had a weapon, she might have done something reckless.
The horse slowed as they approached a stone ruin, the remains of an old chapel, its walls crumbling, its roof long gone. Tòrr reined in and swung down, then reached up to pull her from the saddle.
The moment her feet touched ground, she whirled away from him, putting distance between them.
“I want tae go back,” she said as she turned towards the part they came.
“Aye, I gathered that from all the screamin’ on the way here.”
She glared at him. “Then take me.”
“Nae till ye stop fightin’ me at every turn and every time I draw breath.”
Liliane folded her arms tightly across her chest. “Ye dinnae get tae decide how I breathe, either.”
Tòrr let out a low, frustrated sound, pacing a short distance before turning tae face her again. “Christ, woman, dae ye ken how impossible ye are?”
“Only when someone kidnaps me from me own home!”
“It’s me home too!” he snapped, the words cracking like a whip. “And ye’ve done naethin’ but push against every hand tryin’ tae steady ye since ye walked through its doors.”
His tone silenced her and they remained quiet for a while, before she looked around.
"Where are we?" she demanded.
"Old St. Columba's. Been abandoned fer near fifty years." He busied himself with tying the horse to a gnarled tree. "Private enough fer the conversation ye were so desperate tae have."
"I wasnae desperate."
"Ye planted yerself in me path in front of half me men, refusin' tae move until I explained meself." His voice was hard. "That's either desperation or a death wish. I'm hopin' it's the former."
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the afternoon sun. "Ye kept that letter from me."
"Aye."
"Me faither is threatenin' tae annul our marriage, threatenin' me sister, and ye thought I didnae need tae ken?"
"I thought ye didnae need tae panic." He moved closer, his footsteps crunching on fallen leaves. "I thought I could handle it without addin' tae yer worries."
"Handle it? Handle it how exactly?" She spun to face him. "By keepin' secrets? By decidin' what I should and shouldnae ken?"
"By protectin' ye from threats I'm already dealin' with!"
"I dinnae need yer protection! I need the truth!"
"The truth is that yer faither is a manipulative bastard who's usin' yer sister as leverage against ye.
" Tòrr's voice was flat, brutal. "The truth is he willnae stop until he either gets ye back or destroys any chance we have at makin' this marriage work.
The truth is that tellin' ye about his threats would only make ye more desperate, more likely tae dae somethin' foolish.
So aye, I kept it from ye. And I'd dae it again. "
His blunt honesty struck her like a slap. "Ye have nay right."
"I have every right. Ye're me wife, I’m the laird, so whatever I say stands, whatever I dae isnae questioned."
"I'm nae yer property!"
"I never said ye were." His jaw clenched. "But whether ye like it or nae, ye’re stuck with me. And if we’re both trapped in this, then at least let’s try tae make somethin’ of it instead of tearin’ each other apart.”
She stared at him, fury and frustration warring inside her.
"If ye keep fightin' me at every turn, naethin' will come of this situation."
"Me fightin' ye?" She laughed bitterly. "Ye're the one who dragged me away from the keep like, like…"
"Like a husband tired of his wife makin' scenes in front of his men?" He stepped closer. "Aye, I did. Because ye were about tae say things in anger that couldnae be taken back."
"Maybe I wanted tae say them. Maybe they need tae be said."
"Then say them now. Here. Where there's nay audience, nay guards, nay pressure." He gestured at the empty ruin. "Ye wanted tae talk? Talk."
The invitation caught her off guard. She'd expected more deflection, more commands, more of him telling her what to do.
"I want tae go back," she said finally.
His expression went carefully blank. "Back where?"
"Tae Foulis. Tae me faither." The words tasted like ash, but she forced them out. "I want ye tae let me go."
The silence that followed pressed against her like a weight. She’d rehearsed the words in her head a dozen times, telling herself it was the only sensible choice, that she had no place there, no claim on that life or that man. But saying them aloud felt like tearing something from her chest.
Her pulse thudded painfully. He had saved her, protected her when no one else would, and in some unguarded corner of her heart, she’d started to… care.
She hated herself for it. Hated that she couldn’t decide whether she was running from him, or from what she’d begun to feel.
For a long moment, he just stared at her. Then something flashed in his eyes — hurt, maybe, or disbelief.
"Why?"
"Because this, it's nae workin'. It'll never work."
"That's nae an answer." He moved closer still, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "Why dae ye want tae go back tae a man who threatened ye? Who sold ye like livestock? Who's now usin' yer sister as a weapon against ye?"
"Because at least there, I ken what I'm dealin' with!" The words burst from her. "At least there, I'm nae… "
"What? Safe? Cared fer? Given freedom tae pursue yer interests?"
"Confused!" She pressed her hands to her face. "This was meant tae be simple. I just had tae survive until I could escape."
She stared at him, chest rising and falling with her quick breaths. “Ye think I want this? That I’d choose this life?”
“I dinnae think ye’ve chosen anythin’,” he said bluntly. “But here’s what I ken, ye’re nae cruel like the man who raised ye. Ye’ve got skill, wit, heart. Here, ye could live as ye please. Heal people, make somethin’ of yerself. I’d nae stand in yer way.”
The quiet conviction in his voice shook her more than any shout could have.
He stepped closer, eyes fixed on hers. “I’m nae sayin’ we’ll ever be somethin’ like love, Liliane. But we could build somethin’ that’s real. Mutual respect, trust—aye, maybe even peace.”
The words landed like stones in her chest.
For a moment, she could almost see it, the stillness of the glen, the sound of laughter in the hall, a life without fear.
But then Nessa’s face flashed in her mind, her younger sister’s wide, trusting eyes, and the image shattered.
She dropped her hands, meeting his gaze. "I cannae stay here, Tòrr. I cannae."
"Why nae?" Frustration finally cracked through his control. "Because it would mean admittin' ye might actually be happy here?"
"Because me sister's in danger!" The truth exploded from her. Her voice wavered, then steadied into a whisper. "Because every moment I'm here, she's there, alone with him. And if he cannae get me back, what dae ye think he'll dae tae her?"
Understanding dawned in his eyes. "That's what this is about. Nae the marriage, nae us. Nessa."
"Everythin' is about Nessa. It's always been about Nessa." Tears burned her eyes but she refused to let them fall. "I went tae that auction tae protect her. I let meself be sold tae protect her. And now I need tae go back tae protect her."
"Go back tae dae what exactly?" His voice was sharp. "Offer yerself as trade? Hope yer faither will be satisfied and leave her alone?"
"If that's what it takes."
"That's insane."
"That's family." She wrapped her arms around herself again. "But ye cannae understand."
The words hung between them like a blade.
Tòrr went very still, his expression hardening into something cold and remote. "I cannae… understand?"
Too late, she realized what she’d said. "Tòrr, I didnae mean that."
He went still. The look in his eyes was enough to hollow her out — not anger exactly, but something colder, quieter.
Liliane’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t meant to strike at him like that, hadn’t even thought before the words left her mouth. It had been fear speaking, fear and pride, and now she could see the hurt she’d caused written plain across his face.
Her throat tightened. "I’m sorry," she whispered, the words catching. "That was unfair. Ye didnae deserve that."
But he said nothing, only turned away, his silence cutting deeper than any rebuke could.
He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed somewhere over the broken arch of the chapel. “It’s nae about words, lass. It’s about truth. Ye dinnae trust me.”
Her eyes stung. “I dinnae trust anyone anymore.”
That, at least, made him look at her. And in that gaze she saw something she hadn’t expected, understanding, deep and reluctant.
"Aye, ye dinnae." But some of the ice had thawed from his voice. "But I understand why ye said it. Ye're frightened fer her. Desperate tae protect her."
"I am." Her voice broke slightly. "She's all I have."
"She's nae all ye have anymore." He stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Ye have me now. Whether ye want me or nae."
The gentleness of the gesture nearly undid her. She pulled away before she could do something foolish like lean into his touch.
"I cannae stay here while she's in danger."
"And I cannae let ye go back tae a man who'll only use ye against her." His voice was firm. "Goin' back solves nothin', Liliane. It just puts ye both at his mercy."
"Then what am I supposed tae dae?" The question came out desperate, broken. "Just stay here? Hope everythin' works out? Trust that it’ll all work out eventually?"
"That I'll help ye." He caught her hand before she could retreat further. "Let me help ye protect her."
"How?"
"I dinnae ken yet. But there has tae be a way." His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "A way tae get her out safely, bring her here, where she'd be protected."
Hope flared, dangerous and desperate. "Ye'd dae that?"
"I'd try. Fer ye." His eyes held hers. "But nae if ye run back tae Foulis first. Nae if ye give up on this before we've even properly tried."
"And what if there's nay way? What if the only option is me returnin'?"
"Then we'll face that when it comes. But we're nae there yet." His voice was steady, certain. "Stay, Liliane. Give me time tae find a solution. Please."
She wanted to believe him. God, how she wanted to.
But trusting men had never ended well for her. And trusting this man—who'd bought her, who kept secrets, who made her feel things she had no business feeling—that felt most dangerous of all.
"I dinnae ken if I can," she whispered.
"I ken. But maybe—" He stopped himself, his expression shifting. "Maybe ye could try. Just for now. Just until we figure out how tae protect ye both."
The memory of her father's threat rose again, sharp and terrible. If she stayed, Nessa suffered. If she left, she might never get another chance to save her.
"Take me back," she said, pulling her hand from his. "Please. I need tae think."
Disappointment flickered across his face, but he nodded. "Aye."
They walked to the horse in silence, the weight of unsaid things pressing down on them both. He lifted her onto the saddle, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary on her waist.
"Liliane?"
She looked down at him, meeting those green eyes that seemed to see too much.
"I meant what I said. About helpin' ye. About protectin' ye both." His voice was quiet but firm. "I dinnae make promises I cannae keep."
"I ken." And somehow, she did. "But sometimes good intentions arenae enough."
"Then we'll make them enough." He swung up behind her. "Taegether."
The ride back was silent, tense with things neither of them knew how to say. His arms around her felt both protective and confining, a reminder of everything complicated between them.
Liliane's mind churned with impossible choices. Could she trust him to help Nessa? Could she afford not to? Was staying truly an option, or was she just delaying the inevitable?
And beneath all of it, a question she didn't want to acknowledge: if she left now, would she regret losing him more than she feared her father?
The keep came into view, solid and imposing against the afternoon sky. Safety and prison in equal measure.
"We're here," Tòrr said unnecessarily.
"Aye." But neither of them moved to dismount immediately.
"Think about what I said," he murmured against her ear. "About stayin'. About lettin' me help."
"I will."
"And Liliane?" His arms tightened briefly around her. "Dinnae dae anythin' rash. Promise me."
She couldn't promise that. Wouldn't lie to him that way. So she said nothing, and after a moment, he sighed and swung down, reaching up to help her dismount.
Their eyes met as her feet touched ground, and something passed between them—understanding, maybe, or shared frustration at circumstances neither fully controlled.
"I need tae finish patrols," he said. "Will ye be alright?"
"I'm always alright."
"That's nae what I asked."
She softened slightly. "I'll be fine. Go. Dae what ye need tae dae."
He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more. Then he simply nodded and strode away, leaving her alone in the courtyard with more questions than answers.
Liliane watched him go, her heart and head at war. Stay or leave, trust or run. Risk everything on a man's promise or rely only on herself.
Whatever she decided, it had to be soon. Because time was running out, and Nessa's safety hung in the balance.