"Me faither is threatenin' tae annul our marriage, threatenin' me sister, and ye thought I didnae need tae ken?"
"I thought ye didnae need tae panic." He moved closer, his footsteps crunching on fallen leaves. "I thought I could handle it without addin' tae yer worries."
"Handle it? Handle it how exactly?" She spun to face him. "By keepin' secrets? By decidin' what I should and shouldnae ken?"
"By protectin' ye from threats I'm already dealin' with!"
"I dinnae need yer protection! I need the truth!"
"The truth is that yer faither is a manipulative bastard who's usin' yer sister as leverage against ye." Tòrr's voice was flat, brutal. "The truth is he willnae stop until he either gets ye back or destroys any chance we have at makin' this marriage work.The truth is that tellin' ye about his threats would only make ye more desperate, more likely tae dae somethin' foolish. So aye, I kept it from ye. And I'd dae it again."
His blunt honesty struck her like a slap. "Ye have nay right."
"I have every right. Ye're me wife, I’m the laird, so whatever I say stands, whatever I dae isnae questioned."
"I'm nae yer property!"
"I never said ye were." His jaw clenched. "But whether ye like it or nae, ye’re stuck with me. And if we’re both trapped in this, then at least let’s try tae make somethin’ of it instead of tearin’ each other apart.”
She stared at him, fury and frustration warring inside her.
"If ye keep fightin' me at every turn, naethin' will come of this situation."
"Me fightin' ye?" She laughed bitterly. "Ye're the one who dragged me away from the keep like, like…"
"Like a husband tired of his wife makin' scenes in front of his men?" He stepped closer. "Aye, I did. Because ye were about tae say things in anger that couldnae be taken back."
"Maybe I wanted tae say them. Maybe they need tae be said."
"Then say them now. Here. Where there's nay audience, nay guards, nay pressure." He gestured at the empty ruin. "Ye wanted tae talk? Talk."
The invitation caught her off guard. She'd expected more deflection, more commands, more of him telling her what to do.
"I want tae go back," she said finally.
His expression went carefully blank. "Back where?"
"Tae Foulis. Tae me faither." The words tasted like ash, but she forced them out. "I want ye tae let me go."
The silence that followed pressed against her like a weight. She’d rehearsed the words in her head a dozen times, telling herself it was the only sensible choice, that she had no place there, no claim on that life or that man. But saying them aloud felt like tearing something from her chest.
Her pulse thudded painfully. He had saved her, protected her when no one else would, and in some unguarded corner of her heart, she’d started to… care.
She hated herself for it. Hated that she couldn’t decide whether she was running from him, or from what she’d begun to feel.
For a long moment, he just stared at her. Then something flashed in his eyes — hurt, maybe, or disbelief.
"Why?"
"Because this, it's nae workin'. It'll never work."
"That's nae an answer." He moved closer still, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "Why dae ye want tae go back tae a man who threatened ye? Who sold ye like livestock? Who's now usin' yer sister as a weapon against ye?"
"Because at least there, I ken what I'm dealin' with!" The words burst from her. "At least there, I'm nae… "
"What? Safe? Cared fer? Given freedom tae pursue yer interests?"
"Confused!" She pressed her hands to her face. "This was meant tae be simple. I just had tae survive until I could escape."
