She wanted to argue more, to set additional boundaries and build higher walls. But exhaustion was pulling at her, and thebed was large enough that she could stay on her side without any contact.
Probably.
"Fine." She lay down stiffly, staying as far to her edge as physically possible. "But I'm stayin' on me side."
"Noted."
"And if ye cross that invisible line in the middle…"
"Ye'll what? Stab me with a hairpin?"
"Maybe."
"I'll keep that in mind." He turned onto his side, facing her. "Though fer the record, I've survived worse threats than angry women with hairpins."
"I'm nae angry."
"Nay? What are ye then?"
"Confused. Frustrated. Terrified." The admission slipped out before she could stop it.
His expression softened slightly. "Of me?"
"Of everythin'. Of what this means. Of what happens next."
"Naethin' happens next that ye didnae agree to." His voice was quiet now. "I mean that, Liliane. Whatever else ye think of me, believe that."
She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to.
"We should sleep," she said instead.
He yawned. "Good night, lass. Try nae tae murder me in me sleep."
"Nay promises."
His low chuckle was the last sound before silence settled over the room.
Liliane lay rigid, hyperaware of every breath he took, every small shift of his body. The bed was large, but somehow he seemed to take up more space than should be physically possible.
Minutes passed. His breathing began to slow and deepen.
"Tòrr?"
"Hmm?"
"Why did ye really bid fer me? At the auction?"
A long pause. "Ye already ken why."
"The political reasons, aye. But was that all?"
Another pause, longer this time. "Go tae sleep, Liliane. That's a conversation fer another day."
"But I want tae have the conversation now."
"Sleep. That's an order from yer laird and husband."
"Ye cannae order me tae sleep."
