Page 103 of Highland Ruse

She did not look at him.

“Torra.” He spoke in a firmer tone this time.

She was unresponsive.

Not crying, not speaking—only staring into the space of nothing in front of her, all while Kaid’s chance for peace slipped away with the shreds of the woman’s remaining sanity.

• • •

Kaid had lost his patience.

Delilah watched him carefully and could almost pinpoint the exact moment when it slipped away.

Torra was difficult to manage, she would give him that.

“Torra, what did you think of the dungeon?” Delilah asked. She slowly walked toward the other woman and sat on the bed beside her.

Kaid regarded them for a moment before standing and pacing the room.

Torra pursed her lips.

“It was very cold in there,” Delilah said, small bumps prickling her flesh. The memory of the dank dungeon was far too fresh in her own mind.

“Aye,” Torra said. “And dirty.”

“Yes,” Delilah agreed. “Very dirty. But you aren’t cold here, nor are you dirty.”

She took Torra’s hand. Torra did not jerk her arm free, but instead kept her gaze fastened to where Delilah examined her clean fingers.

“You were treated like a prisoner in your own home when you were little more than a lass. They say you were down there for almost fifteen years. Is that true?” Delilah said in a quiet voice. Something caught in her throat.

Torra seemed to consider this a moment before finally nodding. “I was sixteen. Father had just died.”

“But you’re not in the dungeon now, Torra.” Delilah folded her hand around the other woman’s. Her palms were clammy and cold. “You’re free.”

“I’m in another room,” Torra said. “Not a dungeon, but not free.”

Delilah’s stomach clenched. The woman was right. “Then you can leave whenever you like.”

Perhaps Delilah imagined it, but she swore she actually felt the weight of Kaid’s gaze against her back. True, what she said was risky, but making Torra feel as though she’d gone from one prison to another would not do.

“I can leave?” The hope in Torra’s voice shot deep into Delilah’s heart.

She nodded anyway.

Torra looked around the large chamber, her eyes bright with the prospect, and then she seemed to shrink into herself like a flower withering. But Delilah understood. Torra had nowhere to go.

“Or you could stay here, as a guest,” Delilah offered. She knew she was speaking for Kaid and hoped he would not mind. Because truly there was more to this than convincing Torra. This was also about helping to heal another of those who MacKenzie had broken. “Whether you decide to take back your inheritance or not, we are your friends.”

Torra watched her with a large, sorrowful expression, and again Delilah was reminded of a dog who had suffered a hard life from a cruel master. Torra wanted to trust. She wanted to be loved.

And the desperate ferocity of her look made Delilah’s heart squeeze with the evidence of such sad hope.

She rose and pulled gently at Torra’s hand, which had grown warmer against her own. “Please, come with me.”

Torra hesitated before unfolding herself from her balled-up position and allowing herself to be led to the window. Delilah unclasped the shutters and pulled them open.

The summer air pushed in, fresh and cool, and brought with it the sweet scent of pastries from the market below.