"I didnae have a choice. They needed a parent, nae just a braither. So that's what I became."
"Aye, like I did for Nessa." Her eyes glistened.
"Aye. And ye ken that is why I understand what ye're facin' with her. Why I admire ye fer it." He reached out to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "Ye had tae protect her from yer faither's rages while carryin' yer own grief. That takes strength, Liliane. More strength than most people have."
He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers. "Ye're remarkable, Liliane. Strong and fierce and so damn bonnie it makes me chest ache just lookin' at ye."
"Tòrr." His name came out breathless.
His thumb traced her lower lip. He kissed her then, pouring everything he couldn't say into the press of his lips against hers. All the grief he still carried for parents lost too soon. All the weight of responsibility he'd borne for a decade. All the unexpected hope she'd brought into his carefully controlled life.
She melted against him, her mouth opening under his, as if afraid he might disappear. The kiss deepened, grew heated, until they were both breathing hard and his control was hanging by a thread.
"I need tae go," he said against her lips, though he made no move to pull away. "The council meetin'. The search parties."
He kissed her once more, quick and hard, then forced himself to leave before he did something foolish like barring the door and spending the entire day showing her exactly how desperately he desired to taste her one more time.
The great hall was packed when Tòrr arrived, every seat at the council table filled and warriors lining the walls. The air was thick with tension—word had spread about the search parties deploying.
Tòrr took his seat at the head of the table, Michael on his right. Elder Malcolm and Gregor sat across from him, their weathered faces grave.
"Ye've called us here with little notice, me laird," Malcolm began. "And sent men intae the forests without explanation. What's this about?"
"Armed men wearin' Munro colors attacked me wife at the festival. Tried tae abduct her." Tòrr's voice was flat. "Three are dead. Daemon reports at least a dozen more hidin' in the forests."
Murmurs rippled through the assembled warriors.
"Why would Munro send men after his own daughter?" Malcolm's confusion was evident. "The marriage is legal."
"He wants the alliance she was meant tae bring. Thinks he can reclaim her, annul our marriage, and complete his original plan."
"Can he dae that?" another council member asked.
"He thinks he can." Tòrr met Malcolm's eyes. "But the marriage has been consummated. I've provided the proof ye demanded."
Malcolm nodded slowly. "Aye, the sheet. But Munro daesnae ken that."
"Which is why he's still sendin' men." Tòrr leaned forward. "And why we need tae remove his leverage entirely. Liliane has a younger sister. Nessa. Fourteen years old, currently at Foulis under Munro's control."
The silence was immediate and heavy.
"Ye want tae take her," Gregor said flatly. "Kidnap a laird's daughter from his own keep."
"Munro threatened tae put her on that auction platform if Liliane refused tae cooperate. Threatened tae sell a fourteen-year-old girl." Tòrr's jaw tightened. "So aye, I want tae take her. Before he follows through."
"It's an act of war," one of the other council members protested.
"He started this war when he sent men tae abduct me wife from a clan gatherin'."
"And what dae we dae with the girl once we have her?" Malcolm demanded. "Use her as a hostage?"
"We protect her. Keep her safe where Munro cannae reach her." Tòrr's voice was steady. "With both his daughters beyond his reach, he loses his ability tae forge the alliance he wants. He'll have nay choice but tae accept the marriage."
"And if he refuses? If he demands her return?"
"Then we refuse."
Silence fell over the hall. The council members exchanged glances.
