Her mask was gone, torn away in her struggle to free herself from his grip, and Tòrr got his first clear look at Liliane Munro's face.
Christ almighty.
He'd expected prettiness, perhaps. Most lairds' daughters were well-favored enough. But she... she was something else entirely. Her features were delicate but strong, with high cheekbones and a stubborn chin that spoke of Highland pride. Her hair, freed from its pins during the struggle, fell in waves of gold and copper around her shoulders. And those eyes, hazel shot through with flecks of green and gold, held intelligence and fire in equal measure.
She was beautiful. Breathtakingly so.
"Satisfied with yer purchase?" she asked bitterly, apparently reading something in his expression.
“I’m satisfied ye’re Roderick Munro’s daughter,” he replied coolly, swinging up behind her.
“Soon tae be a MacDonald, if God wills it.”
A low whistle came from the man already mounted nearby. “Ye’ve a strange way of courtin’, Tòrr.”
“Liliane,” Tòrr said shortly, jerking his chin toward him, “That’s Aidan Cameron. Me friend. Ignore him when he’s runnin’ his mouth.”
Aidan grinned, utterly unbothered. “That’s most of the time.” He gave a low bow. “Pleasure tae make yer acquaintance, me lady.”
“Thank ye,” Liliane responded stiffly. Twisting in the saddle to look at Tòrr, she spoke again. “What did ye mean, soon tae be MacDonald?”
“I mean I intend tae marry ye,” he said bluntly, spurring his horse forward. “The moment we reach Keppoch.”
At his statement, he felt her go rigid against him, heard her sharp intake of breath.
"Marry me?" Her voice rose to nearly a shout. "Ye cannae just decide tae marry someone! Marriage requires consent from both parties!"
"Daes it?" He kept his voice level, almost conversational. "That's nae what the law says. The law says a woman becomes her husband's property upon marriage, and I've already paid the bride price. The ceremony is just a formality."
“Me faither never agreed tae marry me off tae ye!” She was practically vibrating with rage now. “He had plans fer me, plans that didnae include some…”
"Some what?" There was ice in his voice now.
"Some Jacobite rebel who thinks he can steal women at auction!"
"I didnae steal ye, lass. I bought ye. Fair and square, in front of half the Highland nobility. Ye're mine by right of purchase, witnessed and bindin’."
She fell silent for a moment, and he could practically hear her mind working, searching for some way out of the trap that had closed around her.
"The marriage willnae be valid," she said finally. "Nae without proper banns, nae without me consent. Ye cannae just drag me tae some priest."
"I can dae whatever I damn well please," he cut her off. "Ye're under me protection now, which means ye're under me authority. If I say we're tae be wed, then wed we'll be."
"Ye're a brute," she whispered. "A barbarian."
"Aye," he agreed calmly. "But I'm yer barbarian now. Best get used tae it."
Cameron rode up alongside them, his brow furrowed. “Easy, Tòrr. She’s frightened.”
“She’s defiant,” Tòrr said flatly, not raising his voice. “There’s a difference.”
“I’m right here,” Liliane snapped. “Stop talkin’ about me as if I cannae hear ye.”
“Then stop actin’ like a bairn and start actin’ like the woman ye’re about tae become,” he replied evenly. “Me wife. The Lady of Keppoch.”
“Never,” she hissed. “Ye can drag me there, force yer ceremony, but ye’ll never have me willin’ participation in any of it.”
“I dinnae need yer willin’ participation,” Tòrr said coolly. “Only yer presence. The rest can be arranged.”
