The metal felt heavy, foreign. A shackle dressed up as jewelry.
"Yer turn, lass," Tòrr murmured, holding out his hand.
Liliane took the remaining ring with shaking fingers and pushed it onto his finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."
"By the power vested in me by God and the Holy Church," Father MacLeod proclaimed, "I now pronounce ye husband and wife."
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Liliane stood frozen, unable to process that it was done. She was married. Bound. Trapped.
"Ye may kiss yer bride," Father MacLeod said with a smile.
"Nay," Liliane began, but Tòrr was already stepping closer.
"We have an audience, wife," he said softly. "Try tae look like ye dinnae
despise me."
His hand cupped her face, tilting it up toward his. "Just follow me lead."
"Tòrr, dinnae."
His lips captured hers, silencing her protest. The kiss was gentle at first, almost tentative, as if he was giving her time to adjust. But then something shifted. His mouth moved more firmly against hers, and despite every intention to remain unmoved, Liliane felt heat bloom in her chest.
Her hands came up, intending to push him away, but somehow they ended up clutching his shirt instead. The cheering crowd faded to background noise as his kiss deepened, became something more than just performance.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
"That was..." he started.
"A mistake," she finished, her voice sharp despite the trembling in her limbs. "And a liberty ye had nay right tae take."
"We're married, lass. I had every right."
Before she could respond, a clan member was there, clasping Tòrr's shoulder. "Congratulations, me laird."
"Thank ye." Tòrr's arm slid around Liliane's waist, keeping her anchored to his side. "Though I think me bride is still adjustin’ tae her new status."
"Perfectly natural," Michael said, appearing on her other side. "Give her time."
The sisters descended next, embracing Liliane with genuine warmth despite her stiff posture.
"Welcome tae the family," Alyson said, squeezing her hands. "Truly."
"Ye made a beautiful bride," Sofia added.
The celebration continued around them, food, drink, music, laughter. Liliane endured it all with a frozen smile, accepting congratulations from strangers who would now be her clan, her people, her family.
All she could think about was Nessa, alone at Foulis, unaware that her sister had just sealed both their fates.
"Are ye well, lass?" Tòrr asked during a brief lull in the festivities. "Ye've gone pale."
"I'm tired," she said, which wasn't entirely a lie. "May I retire tae me chamber?"
His expression hardened slightly. "Our chamber. And aye, I think it's time we took our leave."
Panic fluttered in her chest. "What?"
"We're married now, Liliane. Husband and wife share a chamber."
