"I cannae stay here while she's in danger."
"And I cannae let ye go back tae a man who'll only use ye against her." His voice was firm. "Goin' back solves nothin', Liliane. It just puts ye both at his mercy."
"Then what am I supposed tae dae?" The question came out desperate, broken. "Just stay here? Hope everythin' works out? Trust that it’ll all work out eventually?"
"That I'll help ye." He caught her hand before she could retreat further. "Let me help ye protect her."
"How?"
"I dinnae ken yet. But there has tae be a way." His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "A way tae get her out safely, bring her here, where she'd be protected."
Hope flared, dangerous and desperate. "Ye'd dae that?"
"I'd try. Fer ye." His eyes held hers. "But nae if ye run back tae Foulis first. Nae if ye give up on this before we've even properly tried."
"And what if there's nay way? What if the only option is me returnin'?"
"Then we'll face that when it comes. But we're nae there yet." His voice was steady, certain. "Stay, Liliane. Give me time tae find a solution. Please."
She wanted to believe him. God, how she wanted to.
But trusting men had never ended well for her. And trusting this man—who'd bought her, who kept secrets, who made her feel things she had no business feeling—that felt most dangerous of all.
"I dinnae ken if I can," she whispered.
"I ken. But maybe—" He stopped himself, his expression shifting. "Maybe ye could try. Just for now. Just until we figure out how tae protect ye both."
The memory of her father's threat rose again, sharp and terrible. If she stayed, Nessa suffered. If she left, she might never get another chance to save her.
"Take me back," she said, pulling her hand from his. "Please. I need tae think."
Disappointment flickered across his face, but he nodded. "Aye."
They walked to the horse in silence, the weight of unsaid things pressing down on them both. He lifted her onto the saddle, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary on her waist.
"Liliane?"
She looked down at him, meeting those green eyes that seemed to see too much.
"I meant what I said. About helpin' ye. About protectin' ye both." His voice was quiet but firm. "I dinnae make promises I cannae keep."
"I ken." And somehow, she did. "But sometimes good intentions arenae enough."
"Then we'll make them enough." He swung up behind her. "Taegether."
The ride back was silent, tense with things neither of them knew how to say. His arms around her felt both protective and confining, a reminder of everything complicated between them.
Liliane's mind churned with impossible choices. Could she trust him to help Nessa? Could she afford not to? Was staying truly an option, or was she just delaying the inevitable?
And beneath all of it, a question she didn't want to acknowledge: if she left now, would she regret losing him more than she feared her father?
The keep came into view, solid and imposing against the afternoon sky. Safety and prison in equal measure.
"We're here," Tòrr said unnecessarily.
"Aye." But neither of them moved to dismount immediately.
"Think about what I said," he murmured against her ear. "About stayin'. About lettin' me help."
