Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
"Ye look like someone kicked yer favorite hound."
Tòrr glanced up from the cup of ale he'd been staring at for the past ten minutes to find Catherine settling into the chair across from him.
The great hall was quiet in the late afternoon, most of the clan busy with their duties.
His sisters, apparently, had other ideas about how to spend their time.
"I'm fine," he said automatically.
"Och, aye, ye look fine," Sofia said, appearing at his elbow with a teapot. "That's why ye're sittin' here glowerin' at innocent ale like it's personally offended ye."
"I'm nae glowerin'."
"Ye absolutely are." Alyson claimed the seat beside Catherine, her embroidery forgotten in her lap. "What's happened?"
"Naethin's happened."
Three pairs of eyes fixed on him with identical expressions of disbelief. Tòrr had faced down enemy warriors with less trepidation than he felt under his sisters' combined scrutiny.
"Right," Catherine said. "And I'm the Queen of England. Come on, braither. Out with it."
"There's naethin' tae tell."
"Is it Liliane?" Sofia asked, pouring tea with practiced efficiency. "Did ye two have a fight?"
"We didnae fight."
"Then what did ye dae?" Alyson leaned forward.
"We had a conversation," he said finally. "In the herb garden."
"What kind of conversation?" Catherine pressed.
"The kind where I made a complete arse of meself."
That got their attention. Sofia set down the teapot, Catherine abandoned her teasing grin, and Alyson's put down her embroidery.
"Tell us," Sofia said gently. "What happened?"
Tòrr took a long drink of his ale, buying himself time. But there was no avoiding it, his sisters would pry it out of him eventually. They always did.
"I kissed her last night," he said finally. "After the attack. After she told me about her maither and her faither and everythin' she's been carryin'."
Catherine's eyes went wide. "And?"
"And it was..." He searched for words. "Perfect. Right. Like naethin' I've ever felt before."
"But?" Alyson prompted.
"But then I ruined it by tellin' her I needed her tae stay. That I needed her as me wife tae stop her faither from securin' his alliance."
Three identical groans filled the hall.
"Och, Tòrr," Sofia said, pressing her hand to her forehead. "Ye didnae."
"I did. I thought I was bein' honest. Practical." He ran a hand through his hair. "I thought if I explained the situation clearly, if I made her understand the benefits of stayin', she'd see reason."
"And instead ye made her feel like a political tool," Catherine finished flatly.
"Aye. Apparently." He stared into his ale again. "Though I didnae realize that until today, in the garden, when I found her laughin' with young Malcolm."
"Malcolm?" Alyson frowned. "The guard? What daes he have tae dae with anythin'?"
"I saw them taegether. She was laughin' at somethin' he said. Looked so... happy. Comfortable." The words tasted bitter. "She never looks like that with me. Never laughs like that. So I... I might have gotten a bit short with him."
"A bit short," Sofia repeated slowly. "What exactly did ye dae?"
"Sent him away. Rather brusquely." Tòrr shifted uncomfortably. "Then I asked her why she was laughin' with another man."
Silence fell over the table. Then Catherine burst out laughing.
"It's nae funny," Tòrr growled.
"It's hilarious!" Catherine wiped her eyes. "Ye were jealous! Of Malcolm! A lad barely past his twentieth year!"
"I wasnae jealous."
"Ye absolutely were," Alyson said, though more gently than Catherine. "And what did Liliane say tae that?"
"She said..." He took another drink. "She said she laughs with lots of people around the keep. That everyone makes her comfortable except me. That I'm the only one who brings out her claws."
"Ouch," Catherine muttered. “Ye are such a fool.”
Tòrr scrubbed his hands over his face. "I've made a complete mess of this."
"Aye," all three sisters said in unison.
"Thanks fer the support."
"We're nae here tae make ye feel better," Catherine said bluntly. "We're here tae tell ye the truth. And the truth is that if ye want Liliane tae open up tae ye, tae trust ye, tae let ye past those walls she's built... ye need tae stop hidin' behind duty and responsibility."
"I'm nae hidin'."
"Arenae ye?" Alyson's voice was gentle but firm. "Every time things get too personal, too emotional, ye retreat intae bein' the laird. It's safer that way. But it's also cowardly."
"I'm nae a coward."
"Then prove it," Sofia challenged. "Tell her what ye really feel. Nae what ye need from her, nae what the alliance requires. What ye feel. What ye want."
"What dae I dae?" he asked quietly.
"Court her," Alyson said immediately. "Properly. Show her ye want her as a woman, nae just as leverage against her faither."
"How?"
"Start by stoppin' the jealousy over guards makin' her laugh," Catherine said dryly. "That was absurd."
"It wasnae…" He stopped at her raised eyebrow. "It might have been a bit absurd."
"A bit." Sofia smiled. "But it also shows ye care. Now ye just need tae show her in ways that dinnae involve broodin' or political speeches."
"Talk tae her," Alyson urged. "Taenight."
"I'll talk tae her," he said. "Taenight. I'll... I'll try tae explain properly."
"Good." Sofia reached across to squeeze his hand. "And Tòrr? Stop thinkin' so much. Sometimes ye just have tae feel."
The chamber was quiet when Tòrr entered that night, lit only by the fire in the hearth. Liliane sat by the window, still dressed, staring out at the darkened courtyard. She didn't turn when he closed the door.
"Liliane."
"I'm nae in the mood fer another discussion," she said quietly.
"That's nae why I'm here." He moved closer slowly, giving her space to refuse him if she wanted. "I need tae talk tae ye. About this afternoon. About last night. About... everythin'."
"I'm tired, Tòrr."
"I ken. But please." He stopped a few feet away. "Just listen. And if ye still want me tae leave after, I will. I'll sleep in the chair. Hell, I'll sleep in the hall if that's what ye need. But let me say this first."
She turned finally, her face guarded in the firelight. "Fine."
"I want tae court ye."
Whatever she'd expected, it clearly wasn't that. Her eyebrows rose. "Court me? We're already married."
"Aye, but nae by choice. Nae the way either of us would have wanted." He took a careful step closer. "So I want tae dae it proper. Want tae give ye time tae get tae ken me, tae feel comfortable with me. Want tae show ye that I care about more than just the alliance."
"Tòrr," She was quiet for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "What are ye sayin'?"
"I need ye tae understand that I'll nae force intimacy on ye. That when we finally come taegether, it'll be because ye want it too. Because ye trust me enough tae let down yer walls completely." He leaned his forehead against hers. "However long that takes."
She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his face.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didnae mean tae make ye feel uncomfortable."
"Nay. It's... it's alright." She drew a shaky breath. "I need tae tell ye somethin'."
"Ye dinnae have tae tell me anythin' ye're nae ready fer."
"But I dae. Because if ye want tae court me, if ye want this tae work..." She moved to the bed and sat, wrapping her arms around herself. "Ye need tae understand."
He followed, sitting beside her but keeping space between them. "I'm listenin'."
"I've never been comfortable around men," she said quietly. "Never trusted them. Because all I've ever seen from men is violence. Me faither's rage, the way he'd use his fists tae solve problems. The guards at Foulis who'd leer at me when they thought nay one was watchin'."
His hands clenched into fists, rage flooding through him at the thought of anyone looking at her that way.
"And intimacy," she continued, not meeting his eyes.
"I've never... I dinnae ken how it's supposed tae be.
All I ken is what I heard through me parents' chamber door some nights.
Me maither cryin' after. The way she'd move carefully the next day, like she was hurt.
And I thought..." She stopped, swallowing hard.
"I thought that's what it was. That's what happened between men and women.
Pain. Hurt. Somethin' tae be endured, nae enjoyed. "
"Christ, Liliane." He shifted closer without thinking. "That's nae, that isnae how it should be. How it has tae be."
"Isnae it?" She finally looked at him, and the vulnerability in her eyes nearly broke him. "How would I ken? All I've ever learned about men and women is that the man takes and the woman suffers."
"Nay." The word came out fierce. "That's nae how it is between people who care about each other. Who want each other."
"Then how is it?"
He reached for her hand carefully, relieved when she didn't pull away. "It can be good, Liliane. Nae just fer the man, but fer the woman too. There can be pleasure in it. Real pleasure, if both people are willin' and good tae each other."
He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “I could show ye. If ye'd let me. If ye'd trust me enough."
Her breath caught. "What dae ye mean?"
"I mean..." He chose his words carefully. "I mean I could show ye pleasure. Nae the full consummation, nae until ye're ready fer that. But I could touch ye, kiss ye, show ye that it daesnae have tae be about pain or fear. That it can feel good."
She stared at him, her eyes wide.
"I dinnae ken. I'm frightened."
"I ken. But ye're safe with me, Liliane. I promise ye that." He shifted closer, close enough that she could feel his warmth. "If ye want me tae stop at any time, ye say the word and I'll stop. Immediately. Nay questions, nay anger. Just respect fer what ye need."
She was quiet for so long he thought she'd refuse. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "Show me."
His heart hammered against his ribs as he cupped her face, tilting it toward his. "Aye. I'll show ye."
He kissed her then, soft and slow, pouring everything he couldn't say into the press of his lips against hers. She tensed initially, but gradually melted against him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest.
When he pulled back, her eyes were dark and slightly dazed.
"That's how it starts," he murmured. "With somethin' sweet. Somethin' gentle." His fingers traced the line of her jaw. "And then, if ye let me, I'll show ye more."
"More?" Her voice trembled slightly.
"Aye. Lie back, lass. Let me show ye what pleasure feels like."
She hesitated, fear and curiosity warring in her expression. Then slowly, carefully, she lay back against the pillows, her body rigid with tension.
"Relax," he soothed, his hand stroking through her hair. "I've got ye. Ye're safe. I promise."
His lips found hers again, kissing her deeply as his hands moved to the laces of her gown. She tensed when his fingers brushed her skin, and he paused. He kissed her again, slow and thorough, as his hands continued their careful work on her laces.
He carefully eased the heavy fabric down her body, leaving her in nothing but the thin linen shift.
His hands, large and calloused, moved with surprising delicacy.
They rested on her inner thighs, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate paths along the soft skin.
Liliane squirmed, her body responding instinctively to his touch.
It was as if he were mapping her, learning the contours of her body with a care that made her feel both cherished and desired.
His touch was firm yet tender, a paradox that only heightened her anticipation. She could feel the heat rising between her legs, a warmth that spread through her entire body, making her skin flush.
His hands continued their slow exploration, parting her legs slightly, his fingers tracing the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist.
She gasped as he bent down and his tongue flicked against her core, the sensation both foreign and intoxicating.
He kissed her folds, his lips pressing gently, sucking lightly, as if savoring the taste of her.
Liliane moaned, her hands reaching down to tangle in his hair, holding him close, urging him on.
His mouth was relentless, his kisses deep and lingering, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.
Tòrr's tongue delved deeper, swirling around her folds with a precision that made her buck her hips, seeking more friction. He hummed against her, the vibrations resonating through her, amplifying the pleasure.
She could feel his manhood twitching against her thigh, a reminder of his own arousal, but he remained focused on her, his attention unwavering.
His fingers joined his mouth, slipping inside her with ease, stretching her, filling her, as his tongue continued its relentless dance.
The combination of his mouth and fingers was overwhelming, each sensation building upon the last, driving her closer to the edge.
Her breath came in short gasps, her body tense with anticipation. Her folds were on fire, aching for release, and Tòrr seemed to sense it, quickening his pace. His tongue flicked faster, his fingers pumping in and out with a rhythm that was both urgent and deliberate.
She was close, so close, her body trembling on the brink.
"Tòrr, please..." Her words were cut off by a cry as her orgasm crashed over her, her body convulsing, her juices flooding his mouth. He drank her down, moaning against her, his own arousal evident, but he didn’t stop, riding out her climax, milking every last drop of pleasure from her trembling body.
The world narrowed to the sensation of his mouth, his fingers, his presence.
Time seemed to stand still as she rode the waves of her orgasm, her body shaking with the intensity of it.
He was relentless, his mouth devouring her, his tongue sucking her sweet spot with a fervor that left her breathless.
As she came down from the high, trembling and gasping, he pressed gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.
She noticed then, her eyes dropping to where his trousers were visibly straining. "But ye... ye didnae satisfy yerself."
"Dinnae worry about me. Taenight was about ye. About showin' ye that ye're safe with me." He kissed her gently. "About provin' that I want yer pleasure more than me own."
She drifted toward sleep in his arms, with a wide smile on her face. “If it was about me, then ye did a good job.”