"Watch me."
She huffed but fell silent, rolling to face away from him. Behind her, she could feel the warmth of him, the solid presence that was somehow both threatening and oddly comforting.
The room grew quiet except for the crackle of the dying fire. Her eyes grew heavy despite her racing thoughts.
The festival was almost there and she'd have her chance to escape if she truly wanted it. But lying here in the dark, listening to Tòrr's breathing slow into actual sleep, she found herself questioning whether escape was what she wanted anymore.
The pennyroyal tea would work. Her courses would come, buying her time. But time for what? The question followed her down into sleep, unanswered and increasingly complicated.
The last thing she was aware of was the steady rhythm of Tòrr's breathing beside her, and the treacherous warmth that came from not being alone in the dark.
Then sleep claimed her, and for a few hours at least, she didn't have to think about impossible choices or dangerous feelings or the man who'd bought her and somehow made her want to stay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"Ye're smilin' in yer sleep."
Tòrr's eyes cracked open to find himself nose-to-nose with Liliane, her head was in the crook of his arm, her hair spread across his pillow, one of her legs tangled with his beneath the blankets. Her hand rested on his bare chest, fingers curled slightly against his skin.
Hmmm… ye are a bonnie lass, arenae ye? I could look at ye forever.
"I'm nae smilin'," he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.
Just haven’t slept this well or woken up this relaxed in ages.
"Ye were. Just now. Before I spoke." Her eyes were still heavy-lidded, unfocused. Then awareness hit, and she registered their position.
"Tòrr! What did ye dae?"
She scrambled backward so fast she nearly fell off the bed, grabbing a pillow and holding it in front of her like a shield. "How did we get so close?"
"I didnae dae anythin’. If anythin’ ye were the one curled up all over me. But ye can relax. We were sleepin', lass. Apparently neither of us is good at stayin' on our own side." He stretched, deliberately casual despite the lingering warmth where her body had pressed against his. "Mornin', by the way."
"Dinnae 'mornin'' me! Ye said ye'd stay on yer side!"
"I was on me side. Ye're the one who ended up halfway across the bed."
"I did nay such thing!"
"Lass, when I fell asleep, ye were practically hangin' off the edge over there. When I woke, ye were usin' me as a pillow." He grinned at her horrified expression. "Nae complainin', mind. Ye're surprisingly cuddly when unconscious."
"I am nae cuddly!"
"Tell that tae the drool on me chest."
Her hand flew to her mouth. "I did nay such thing."
"Aye, ye did. Just a bit." He sat up, enjoying her mortification more than he probably should have. "Though the pillow's nae much of a defense. I've already seen everythin' it's hidin'."
"Ye have nae!" But her face went scarlet anyway. “Stop! Stop teasin’ me. Tòrr!”
"I've seen ye in yer nightgown, which is fairly transparent, and I've felt ye pressed against me fer what I'm guessin' was most of the night. At this point, that pillow's just fer show."
She looked ready to throw the pillow at his head, but before she could, her expression shifted to something more guarded. "Why are ye tellin' me this?"
"Because I want ye tae understand somethin'." He swung his legs out of bed and stood, stretching muscles that protested less than they had in days. "Last night, we slept in the same bed. This mornin', we woke up tangled taegether. And naethin' happened that ye didnae want tae happen."
"What's yer point?"
