"Good! Maybe I'll break me neck and solve both our problems!"
"Dinnae be dramatic." His arm tightened around her waist as she tried to throw herself sideways. "Christ, woman, are ye tryin' tae get hurt?"
"I'm tryin' tae get away from ye!"
"Nae happenin'." He urged the horse faster, leaving the keep and curious eyes behind. "So ye might as well settle down and save yer energy fer the argument we're about tae have."
"Has anyone told ye that ye are a tyrant?"
"Nay, but I believe I’m a husband who's tired of ye runnin' away every time things get difficult." he supplied. "Aye, that sounds about right."
She let out a frustrated scream that probably scared every bird within a mile radius. But she stopped fighting him, her body rigid with fury as they rode away from the castle.
He'd wanted to give her something good. The chance to write to her sister, a gesture of trust. Instead, he'd given her one more reason to hate him.
Perfect, just perfect.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"Let me down!"
"Nae until ye calm yerself." Tòrr said, voice sharp above the wind. “Ye can stop tryin’ tae bite me hand off now.”
"I am calm!" But even as Liliane said it, she knew it was a lie. Her heart was racing, her hands were shaking with fury, and if she'd had a weapon, she might have done something reckless.
The horse slowed as they approached a stone ruin, the remains of an old chapel, its walls crumbling, its roof long gone. Tòrr reined in and swung down, then reached up to pull her from the saddle.
The moment her feet touched ground, she whirled away from him, putting distance between them.
“I want tae go back,” she said as she turned towards the part they came.
“Aye, I gathered that from all the screamin’ on the way here.”
She glared at him. “Then take me.”
“Nae till ye stop fightin’ me at every turn and every time I draw breath.”
Liliane folded her arms tightly across her chest. “Ye dinnae get tae decide how I breathe, either.”
Tòrr let out a low, frustrated sound, pacing a short distance before turning tae face her again. “Christ, woman, dae ye ken how impossible ye are?”
“Only when someone kidnaps me from me own home!”
“It’s me home too!” he snapped, the words cracking like a whip. “And ye’ve done naethin’ but push against every hand tryin’ tae steady ye since ye walked through its doors.”
His tone silenced her and they remained quiet for a while, before she looked around.
"Where are we?" she demanded.
"Old St. Columba's. Been abandoned fer near fifty years." He busied himself with tying the horse to a gnarled tree. "Private enough fer the conversation ye were so desperate tae have."
"I wasnae desperate."
"Ye planted yerself in me path in front of half me men, refusin' tae move until I explained meself." His voice was hard. "That's either desperation or a death wish. I'm hopin' it's the former."
She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the afternoon sun. "Ye kept that letter from me."
"Aye."
