"Give me a minute." Tòrr's eyes were fixed on the inn door where Liliane had disappeared. "She's been gone too long." He started toward the inn. "Find the others. We'll regroup after I get her."
Tòrr's mind was half on whatever news Daemon had and half on the woman who'd fled from his confession like it had burned her.
She was in there somewhere, probably composing herself, probably building new walls to replace the ones he'd just cracked.
The question was whether he'd be allowed past them. Or whether he'd just pushed her further toward the escape she'd been planning all along.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"Breathe, lass."
Liliane whispered to herself, pressing cold water against her burning cheeks and wringing her hands dry with the small linen towel beside the basin. The noise of the festival outside was a dull hum now — laughter, pipes, and cheers blending into a muffled thrum behind the thick walls of the inn.
She took a steadying breath, forcing her reflection to still. “Ye’re fine,” she whispered to the mirror. “It was only a dance.”
The basin in the inn's washroom offered temporary refuge, a quiet space away from the music, the dancing, the weight of Tòrr's confession still ringing in her ears.
"If things had started differently, I would have courted ye proper."
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of his voice, the way he'd looked at her like she was something precious rather than purchased.
"Pull yerself taegether," she muttered, splashing more water on her face. "Ye cannae stay in here forever."
But the alternative, which was going back out there, facing him, pretending his words hadn't shaken something loose inside her, felt impossible.
A floorboard creaked behind her.
Liliane spun, heart leaping into her throat. "I'll be out very soon."
Before she could turn around, rough hands seized her arms, yanking her backward with brutal force. Her scream died as she was slammed against the wall, the impact driving the air from her lungs.
"Got her!" a voice growled, thick with triumph.
Three men surrounded her, their faces shadowed but their intent crystal clear. The closest one pressed his forearm across her throat, cutting off her air.
"Dinnae make this harder than it needs tae be, lass," he said, his breath rank with ale. "We're just here tae bring ye home."
Terror exploded through her veins like lightning. "Let me go!"
The man cursed and caught her wrists, pinning them above her head. “Easy, lady. Wouldnae want tae spoil that pretty face.”
“Ye, ye’ve mistaken me fer another,” she managed, voice shaking but fierce. “Unhand me this instant!”
The third man chuckled darkly. “Oh, we ken exactly who ye are.”
Her stomach turned to ice.
“She’s worth a fortune,” one of them said. “The laird will reward us well fer takin’ her back.”
She thrashed wildly, her nails raking across the nearest man's face. He cursed, jerking back, and she used the momentum to drive her knee upward. It connected with something soft, and he doubled over with a wheeze.
"Grab her arms! Both of them!"
Hands closed around her wrists, wrenching them behind her back. She screamed again, louder this time, putting every ounce of fear and fury into the sound.
"Shut her up!" The third man stepped forward, his hand raised.
"Dinnae touch me!" She kicked out, her foot connecting with his shin. "Dinnae ye dare touch me!"
