"What?"
"With Malcolm. Just now. Ye were laughin'." He plucked at the rosemary stem, not meeting her eyes. "What was so amusin'?"
There was a beat of silence. Then, in a carefully controlled voice, Liliane said, "He was tellin' me a story about his sister. Somethin' that happened when they were children."
"Ah." Tòrr schooled his face to hide his annoyance, jabbing at another herb from the soil, though he had no idea what it was. "Must have been quite the story tae make ye laugh like that."
"It was charmin'. Innocent." She paused in her work, tilting her head to study him. "Why dae ye ask?"
"Just curious." He kept his eyes fixed on the plants, aware that he was being ridiculous but unable to stop himself. "Ye seemed very entertained."
"I was. Young Malcolm's good company. Easy tae talk tae."
The words shouldn't have stung, but they did.
Easy tae talk tae. Unlike me, apparently.
Unlike the husband who'd upset her with his clumsy attempts to explain their situation.
"I'm sure he is," Tòrr muttered, yanking another plant from the ground with more force than necessary.
"Tòrr." Liliane's voice carried a note of amusement now. "What is this really about?"
"Naethin'. It's about naethin'."
"It daesnae sound like naethin'. It sounds like somethin' is botherin' ye." She set down her basket and shifted to face him fully. "So tell me. What is it?"
He should let it go. Should change the subject. Should act like the mature, reasonable laird he was supposed to be.
Instead, he heard himself say, "Why were ye laughin' with him?"
"With Young Malcolm?"
"Aye. With Young Malcolm." He finally looked up, meeting her eyes. "Why were ye laughin' with another man?"
Understanding dawned in her expression, followed by something that might have been surprise. And was that amusement flickering at the corners of her mouth?
"Are ye..." She tilted her head, her eyes searching his face. "Are ye jealous?"
"Nay, dinnae be ridiculous." But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. "I just... I dinnae like seein' ye so comfortable with other men."
"Other men." She repeated the words slowly, as if testing their weight. "Ye mean the young guard who was assigned tae protect me? Who was daein' his duty by keepin' me company while I worked?"
"He was daein' more than keepin' ye company. He was makin' ye laugh."
"And that bothers ye?"
"Aye. Nay. I dinnae ken." Tòrr pushed to his feet, frustrated with himself and the entire conversation. "Ferget I said anythin'."
But Liliane rose as well, and there was definitely amusement in her eyes now, mixed with something warmer. Something that made his chest tighten in an entirely different way.
"Ye are jealous," she said softly. "Ye dinnae like that I was laughin' with him."
"I didnae say that."
"Ye didnae have tae. It's written all over yer face." She took a step closer, her head tilted in that considering way she had. "Daes it truly bother ye? That I might enjoy someone else's company?"
"Ye're me wife." The words came out rougher than he'd intended. "So aye, it bothers me when ye laugh with other men the way ye've never laughed with me."
