Two days of tension building between them that she didn't quite have a name for.
"I suppose so," she said, aiming for indifference.
"Dinnae sound so enthusiastic. Such reluctance could wound a man's pride."
Despite herself, her lips twitched. "I'll come. Give me a moment tae change intae ridin’ clothes."
"Ye look fine as ye are."
"I'm wearin’ a mornin’ gown. Hardly suitable fer ridin’."
"It makes nay difference tae me, lass. We're sharin’ a horse."
She raised a brow. "Sharing a horse? I ken how tae ride me own horse ye ken."
His expression shifted, became unreadable. "I'd prefer tae keep ye close. Fer safety."
"Whose safety? Mine or yers?"
"Both, as it happens." He pushed off the doorframe. "Five minutes. Meet me in the courtyard."
After he left, Liliane stared at the closed door, her mind spinning. A ride alone with Tòrr. Away from the castle walls. Away from watchful eyes and listening ears.
This could be dangerous. Or it could be... it could be something else.
She changed quickly into a simpler gown that was more suitable for riding and pulled her hair into a single braid to keep it from tangling in the wind.
She made her way down to the courtyard, where Tòrr waited with his black stallion.
"Ready?" he asked, offering his hand.
She nodded with a shaky sigh, taking his hand, and trying to ignore how warm his palm felt as he helped her onto the horse. His grip was firm, steady, and when she settled into the saddle, she could still feel the ghost of his touch lingering against her skin. Then he swung up behind her in one smooth movement, the leather creaking as his arms came around her to grasp the reins.
The air between them vanished. His chest pressed lightly to her back, his breath brushing the curve of her neck. From shoulder to thigh, they fit together as if the horse itself had conspired to make her aware of every inch of him.
"Comfortable?" His voice was low against her ear.
"Nay," she gasped.
"Liar."
"I'm nae lyin’." She stopped, realizing he was baiting her. "Just ride, MacDonald."
"As me lady wishes."
They rode through the gates and down the winding path that led away from the keep. The morning was crisp and clear, the kind of Highland day that made the mountains look close enough to touch. Birds called from the trees, and somewhere in the distance, she could hear water running.
"Where are we goin’?" she asked after several minutes of silence.
"Somewhere I think ye'll like."
"That's nae an answer."
"Be patient, lass."
She huffed but didn't press further. Truth was, being out of the castle felt good, freeing, even if she was still in his custody. The wind on her face, the sun on her shoulders, the rhythm of the horse beneath them.
She shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position in the saddle, and felt Tòrr's arm tighten fractionally around her waist. His breath hitched, just barely, but she caught it. The realization sent an unexpected flutter through her chest.
