She stared at him, chest rising and falling with her quick breaths. “Ye think I want this? That I’d choose this life?”
“I dinnae think ye’ve chosen anythin’,” he said bluntly. “But here’s what I ken, ye’re nae cruel like the man who raised ye. Ye’ve got skill, wit, heart. Here, ye could live as ye please. Heal people, make somethin’ of yerself. I’d nae stand in yer way.”
The quiet conviction in his voice shook her more than any shout could have.
He stepped closer, eyes fixed on hers. “I’m nae sayin’ we’ll ever be somethin’ like love, Liliane. But we could build somethin’ that’s real. Mutual respect, trust—aye, maybe even peace.”
The words landed like stones in her chest.
For a moment, she could almost see it, the stillness of the glen, the sound of laughter in the hall, a life without fear.
But then Nessa’s face flashed in her mind, her younger sister’s wide, trusting eyes, and the image shattered.
She dropped her hands, meeting his gaze. "I cannae stay here, Tòrr. I cannae."
"Why nae?" Frustration finally cracked through his control. "Because it would mean admittin' ye might actually be happy here?"
"Because me sister's in danger!" The truth exploded from her. Her voice wavered, then steadied into a whisper. "Because every moment I'm here, she's there, alone with him. And if he cannae get me back, what dae ye think he'll dae tae her?"
Understanding dawned in his eyes. "That's what this is about. Nae the marriage, nae us. Nessa."
"Everythin' is about Nessa. It's always been about Nessa." Tears burned her eyes but she refused to let them fall. "I went tae thatauction tae protect her. I let meself be sold tae protect her. And now I need tae go back tae protect her."
"Go back tae dae what exactly?" His voice was sharp. "Offer yerself as trade? Hope yer faither will be satisfied and leave her alone?"
"If that's what it takes."
"That's insane."
"That's family." She wrapped her arms around herself again. "But ye cannae understand."
The words hung between them like a blade.
Tòrr went very still, his expression hardening into something cold and remote. "I cannae… understand?"
Too late, she realized what she’d said. "Tòrr, I didnae mean that."
He went still. The look in his eyes was enough to hollow her out — not anger exactly, but something colder, quieter.
Liliane’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t meant to strike at him like that, hadn’t even thought before the words left her mouth. It had been fear speaking, fear and pride, and now she could see the hurt she’d caused written plain across his face.
Her throat tightened. "I’m sorry," she whispered, the words catching. "That was unfair. Ye didnae deserve that."
But he said nothing, only turned away, his silence cutting deeper than any rebuke could.
He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed somewhere over the broken arch of the chapel. “It’s nae about words, lass. It’s about truth. Ye dinnae trust me.”
Her eyes stung. “I dinnae trust anyone anymore.”
That, at least, made him look at her. And in that gaze she saw something she hadn’t expected, understanding, deep and reluctant.
"Aye, ye dinnae." But some of the ice had thawed from his voice. "But I understand why ye said it. Ye're frightened fer her. Desperate tae protect her."
"I am." Her voice broke slightly. "She's all I have."
"She's nae all ye have anymore." He stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Ye have me now. Whether ye want me or nae."
The gentleness of the gesture nearly undid her. She pulled away before she could do something foolish like lean into his touch.
