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CHAPTER NINETEEN

I n the great hall, the air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine, loud with conversation.

Valora sat back in her chair, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup absentmindedly.

Her gaze often drifted to Torrin, seated across from her, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the room with a vigilance that seemed out of place amid the laughter and chatter.

She noticed it then—the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as if the weight of the world was resting upon him.

The truth was that it probably was. He had so much on his mind, so many things to consider those days, that it seemed almost impossible for him to be relaxed.

Still, concern furrowed her brow, and she leaned forward, her voice a soft whisper under the clinking of silverware.

"Is somethin’ troublin’ ye, me laird?"

Torrin met her gaze, his lips curling into a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It’s naethin’. Dinnae fash, Miss MacNeacail."

But Valora wasn't convinced. She could tell there was something bothering him; something that went past the normal tension he held, and which he didn’t want to reveal to her for some reason.

"Please," she insisted gently. "If somethin’ is the matter?—"

Torrin hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly against the table as he seemed to search for the right words. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken burdens.

"It's just… me neck," he admitted reluctantly. "Bein’ tall, I spend much o’ me time looking’ down, an’ it's taken its toll. Now, sleepin’ on the ground only worsens it."

A pang of guilt speared through Valora at the thought that Torrin was in such great discomfort—enough for her to notice—all because she wouldn’t let him sleep in the bed with her.

At first, she had had good reason; they hadn’t known each other back then, on that first night.

But she could trust him now; she didn’t need him to sleep on the floor.

"Ye should have said somethin’ sooner," she chided softly. "Ye dinnae have tae endure this."

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It's naething, truly. I dinnae wish tae burden ye."

"Ye willnae," Valora assured him, but then fell silent after that.

Then, once they were finished with dinner and headed up to his chambers, as they did every night, she searched through the few belongings she had in the room for something Ina had given her for her back pain.

It was a small jar of salve, something Ina had prepared specifically for her, and when she found it in the drawer, she turned to Torrin with a triumphant smile.

“Here it is!” she said, holding up the small jar for Torrin to see. “This should help ye feel better.”

“Ach, I dinnae wish tae impose,” Torrin said, hesitant, but Valora wasn’t having any of it.

"Ye willnae," she assured him, her tone firm yet gentle. "Please. Allow me."

With a resigned sigh, Torrin began to undo his shirt and once all the laces were untied, he tossed it to the side of the bed.

"Lie down," Valora instructed, her voice soft but firm, so that there was no room for further argument.

Torrin hesitated only for a moment before settling onto the bed on his stomach.

The sight of his broad shoulders and the expanse of his back stirred something within Valora, something so intense it was almost primal, but she pushed the feeling aside.

This was about helping him, nothing more—or at least so she told herself.

Focusing on the task at hand, she warmed the salve between her hands and began to massage it into the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders.

Her fingers worked with practiced ease, kneading the knots and soothing the tightness.

Torrin's breath hitched at the first touch, a low groan escaping his lips.

It was more intimate, more arousing than it had any right to be. Valora felt her cheeks heat uncomfortably, desire coiling deep within her; a desire that she desperately tried to ignore, hoping Torrin wouldn’t notice.

"Daes that feel better?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Much," he murmured, sounding half-asleep already.

Something between them shifted; the air seemed charged with an unspoken tension.

Valora's hands moved with increasing confidence, her touch lingering longer than necessary, tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her fingertips.

She craved this. She wanted to touch him, to feel him under her hands, to explore every inch of his body.

But at the same time, she could hardly bear it.

She needed some sort of distraction, anything that would take her mind off the task.

"Why havenae ye married?" she asked suddenly, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

Torrin tensed beneath her hands, his muscles going rigid for a short moment. “I never wished tae wed,” he said then, and the admission only slightly loosened him up.

"But ye must ken that marriage is expected o’ ye," she pressed gently. "Tae secure alliances, tae produce heirs."

He sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken thoughts. "I ken. But I've never been interested in takin’ a bride. It's a duty, nae a desire."

Valora paused, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Then why choose me?”

She didn’t know where this almost petulant question had come from. Torrin didn’t really owe her an explanation, she supposed, especially when he had been so accommodating with everything else. But she was eager to know; she was curious and she wanted to know the truth.

Silence stretched between them, long and uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet and hesitant.

"There was somethin’ about ye," he admitted. “Somethin’ that made me pay more attention. I didnae expect tae feel this, an’ yet…”

His words trailed off, but that was more than enough of an explanation for Valora. Her heart fluttered at his words, but she remained composed—at least as much as she could, given what she had just heard.

“An’ then I wanted tae enrage Laird Keith,” he admitted finally, and it was then that the tension left his body, letting Valora do her job with more ease. “When I saw what he did tae ye. He’s a despicable man. I wanted tae save ye from him an’ I wanted tae enrage him in any way I could.”

With a sigh, Valora pulled back from Torrin, but he made no attempt to move even when she was done. For a moment, she sat there next to him, kneeling on the mattress in silence, but then she laughed softly, giving him a gentle nudge.

“Ye can move now,” she told him. “I’m done.”

Another silence stretched between them and Valora caught Torrin watching her awkwardly. “Actually, I think I’ll stay like this fer a while.”

It took Valora a few moments to understand why. Then, she noticed the slight flush of his cheeks, the way he kept his hips firmly against the bed as though afraid of revealing something he shouldn’t.

And reveal he would, she realized, if he moved at all.

Dear God, is he ha— Nae! I shouldnae think about this.

Her own cheeks heated at the thought of his body reacting like this to her, but only part of it was because of embarrassment. The other part was because of that deeply-rooted desire, that need that kept growing and growing inside of her.

Torrin turned his head slightly, his face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice strained.

Valora smiled softly, trying to fight her embarrassment as much as she could for his sake, her eyes meeting his with understanding. "It's natural," she assured him. “We are only human."

She stood and moved to the other side of the bed, her back to him as she prepared for sleep.

The room was thick with the unspoken, the air heavy with the weight of their shared desire, but neither of them dared say anything more.

Valora couldn’t bear it; she couldn’t utter a single word, and she didn’t think she would be able to even under the threat of a blade.

But after a long silence, she spoke again, her voice barely audible. "Torrin?"

"Yes?"

"Will ye stay with me taenight? In bed?”

He didn't answer immediately, and Valora feared she had overstepped. But then he gave a small nod, though he refrained from moving otherwise.

“O’ course," he said softly. “If that’s what ye want.”

Equally satisfied and relieved by his answer, Valora settled on the mattress next to him, slipping under the covers.

They lay together, the furs a barrier between them, yet their bodies seemed to seek each other out, turning towards one another like a sunflower turns to the sun.

Valora's heart raced, her thoughts a whirlwind.

She wanted him, wanted to feel his touch, to lose herself in this new reality that was beginning to form between them.

But Torrin remained still, his breathing steady. He didn't push, didn't demand. He simply lay beside her, offering his presence, his comfort.

After a long while, Valora turned to face him, her eyes searching his in the dim light. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed something from him, anything that would make her feel closer to him, more wanted.

When his hand moved ever so slightly closer, in a gesture that was nothing more than a mere twitch of his fingers, but which made them brush against her hand, Valora couldn’t take it anymore.

It was as though that simple touch was enough to ignite every hidden desire in her, calling it up to the surface.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

It took a lot of courage for Valora to speak those two words, and then, as they looked at each other in silence, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a mistake.

Torrin hesitated, his gaze searching hers for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he leaned in slowly, his lips brushing hers in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was soft, tender, little more than a chaste press of lips.

When they parted, he smiled faintly. "I told ye ye’d beg," he teased lightly.

Valora chuckled softly, the sound a salve to the tension that still lingered between them.

Then, Torrin pulled her close once more, kissing her again—only this time it was deep, passionate, nothing like the first tentative press of his lips.

Now, he wasn’t holding back. Now he was kissing her with everything he had, everything he felt for her, and Valora couldn’t help but lean into it, seek out more, crave to be lost in it entirely.

When they parted, it was as though someone had drawn all the air out of the room. She was panting softly, her breath cut short, but then calmed down as Torrin pulled her close, wrapping her into a loose embrace.

They settled into each other's arms, the long night stretching out before them. And as sleep finally claimed them, Valora allowed herself to believe that this—this fragile, intimate connection—was the beginning of something more.