Liliane met his eyes for only a moment before looking back at her plate, pretending to focus on the crumbs. “At least it’ll be lively,” she said. “After so much war talk, a bit of music sounds like heaven.”
Sofia nodded. “Aye, and maybe the weather will show mercy this year.”
“It willnae,” Alyson declared. “The Highlands only ken rain and wind.”
Michael chuckled. “Then we’ll dance in the mud again. Better that than sittin’ quiet.”
Alyson raised her cup in mock toast. “Tae muddy shoes.”
“Tae that,” Catherine laughed, clinking her cup against hers.
Even Tòrr allowed a faint smile, the edge of tension fading for a rare moment as laughter rippled through the group and the afternoon light settled warm and golden across the garden.
Liliane found herself relaxing despite the earlier fear. The sisters' easy chatter, Michael's dry humor, even Tòrr's quiet presence beside her, it all felt oddly normal. Safe.
"Ye've got somethin' right there," Tòrr murmured.
"What?" She looked up at him.
"Crumb. Corner of yer mouth." Before she could react, his thumb brushed her lips, wiping away the offending crumb with casual intimacy.
Time seemed to stop.
His thumb lingered a heartbeat too long, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. Heat flooded through her, pooling low in her belly, and she couldn't look away from him.
"Well," Alyson's voice broke the moment like shattering glass. "Why dinnae ye two just go tae yer room already?"
"Alyson!" Sofia gasped, but she was grinning.
"What? We're all thinkin' it. Look at them, they're practically consumin' each other with their eyes."
Liliane's face exploded with heat. She jumped to her feet so fast she nearly knocked over the berry bowl. "I… I need tae… I should go. Rest."
"Liliane," Tòrr started, but she was already moving.
"Thank ye fer the berries. And the game. It was lovely. I'll see ye all later."
She fled before anyone could stop her, her heart racing, her lips still tingling from that brief touch. Behind her, she could hear Catherine's delighted laughter and Michael's low comment that made the sisters giggle harder. She didn't stop until she reached the safety of the chamber, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, breathing hard.
What was wrong with her? A simple touch, a casual gesture, and she'd reacted like… like… like a woman affected by her husband.
That was the problem. Somewhere between the forced marriage and the present, something had shifted. He wasn't just the man who'd bought her anymore. He was Tòrr. Complicated, protective, infuriating, and somehow worming his way past every defense she'd built.
She crossed to the window and stared out at the courtyard below, watching people walk around. Standing there, her lipsstill remembering the warmth of his touch, she wasn't sure she wanted to leave anymore.
When did this second thought start to grow?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
"Well, that was subtle."
Tòrr turned from watching Liliane's retreating form to find all three of his sisters staring at him with knowing grins. Michael wasn't even trying to hide his smirk.
"What?" he demanded. “Ye all look far too pleased with yerselves.”
"'What?'" Catherine mimicked his gruff tone. "Ye practically devoured her with yer eyes just then!"
"I did nay such thing."
