His jaw worked, the muscle ticking. “So ye’re more than willin’ tae get cozy with me braither.”
That did it. The way his voice dropped – low, possessive, barely reined in– made it very clear what that was about. A slow, incredulous smile curved her lips.
"Ye're jealous that I was talkin’ tae yer braither."
"I'm nae jealous. I'm... concerned about appearances."
"Appearances?" She couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "We're married. What possible appearance could there be from me speakin’ with me braither-by-marriage?"
"Ye seemed very comfortable with him."
"He's easy tae talk tae, like I said. Unlike some people."
Tòrr's jaw tightened. "Meanin’ me."
"If the shoe fits."
They glared at each other for a long moment.
Then he turned and walked back to the breakfast table, leaving her alone in the alcove with three days until the festival and a desperate plan taking shape in her mind.
A few days until freedom, or a few days until everything fell apart. She wasn't sure which was more likely.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Where the hell did she go?"
Tòrr stood at the entrance to the great hall, scanning the corridors. One moment Liliane had been in the alcove, the next she'd slipped away while his attention was diverted by a passing servant.
Michael appeared at his elbow. "Lost somethin’?"
"Me wife."
"Already?" His brother's lips twitched. "That's got tae be some kind of record."
"This isnae amusin’."
"It's a little amusin’." Michael pointed down the corridor. "I saw her headin’ toward the east wing a few minutes ago. Near the healer’s chamber."
The healer's room. What business did Liliane have there? Was she really sick, like she claimed last night? She seemed okay during the breakfast, but maybe her wound was giving her trouble?
Tòrr strode down the corridor, his boots striking the stone with sharp purpose. When he reached the door, it stood slightly ajar, and he could hear the soft sound of movement inside.
He pushed it open quietly.
Liliane stood with her back to him, reaching for a jar on the upper shelf. Her movements were careful, secretive, as if she didn't want to be caught.
"What are ye daein’?"
She spun so fast the jar slipped from her fingers. It fell, shattering against the stone floor in an explosion of glass and dried leaves.
"Saints!" Liliane jumped back, her hand flying to her chest. "Ye scared me half tae death!"
"That was the general idea." Tòrr moved into the room, eyeing the mess on the floor. "What were ye lookin’ fer?"
"Naethin’. Just, I was curious about the herbs."
"Curious." He didn't believe her for a second. "So curious ye felt the need tae sneak in here alone?"
