Page 1 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
1
“Be on yer guard, lass. If he’s anything like his clansmen, he can andwillbe ruthless.” The gruff voice of Lilith Flanagan’s most trusted guard was meant to steady her. Instead, it made her stomach churn.
Her dear friend, Ariah Morris, chuckled nervously beside her; a laugh too strained to be genuine. Lilith could see the worry etched on her friend’s features despite her attempt at levity.
The Great Hall of McCallum Castle was filled with tension as council members and clansmen from even the farthest reaches of McCallum lands all awaited the arrival of their new Laird.
Damon Aragain—a name that had become synonymous with the unknown and power.
He was her sister’s brother-in-law, of Clan Brahanne, and he was on his way to stake his claim now that her brother, Magnus, had been laid to rest.
Lilith had met Damon only once before, yet her memories of that encounter were cloaked in unease. The younger Aragain brother was a rude, boorish brute, with nothing on his mind but combat and revenge. He was the one who killed her brother, and everyone was aware of it.
Is it just me, or did the hall just get colder?
She let the shiver roll through her shoulders as she pushed aside her apprehension, forcing a calm smile for the sake of her people.
“Stay strong, all of ye. No matter what, me sister will arrive soon, and I will always be here by yer side,” she assured them, though her voice wavered slightly.
The heavy oak doors swung open suddenly, and the herald’s booming voice announced their guests’ arrival.
All eyes turned toward the imposing figures entering the hall in pairs. All dressed in black, their faces stern and focused—they were clearly ready for a fight, should there be one. They were followed closely by Clan McCallum’s new Laird. The tall, remarkably rugged, and… chiseled new Laird.
Did he always look like that?
The man who Lilith knew to be Keegan’s brooding younger brother had stepped inside smoothly and confidently, his calculating gaze cutting through the crowd like a blade. Hemoved with an air of authority, the weight of his presence silencing the hall with an eerie immediacy. When his gaze met Lilith’s, heat pooled in the pit of her stomach, and she felt her body tighten.
“Is that…?” she overheard Ariah hiss, almost chastising her, as if she had failed to mention a key part of the entire arrangement—which she very clearly had.
The brute that Lilith remembered Damon Aragain to be was now a man she hardly recognized. The crude, vengeful warrior from her memories had transformed into someone altogether more lethal—not because of his blade, but because of the way his piercing gaze seemed to strip away her defenses.
Her breath caught as her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders and strong jawline, the ruggedness of him sharpened by the years. His presence was magnetic, drawing her attention despite her best efforts to keep her guard up. She hated herself for the way her heart raced, and how she found herself thinking not of her brother’s death or Damon’s flaws, but of the way his hand might feel trailing over her skin.
“Lilith,” Ariah whispered, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. “Are ye well?”
“Aye,” Lilith lied quickly, her lips pressing into a tight line. “I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t. Damon’s transformation—from brute to devastatingly dominating Laird—had unraveled somethinginside her, leaving her off-balance. The way he commanded the room with just his presence filled her with a mix of frustration, admiration, and a traitorous flicker of desire that she couldn’t banish.
She couldn’t decide which frightened her more: the man Damon used to be or the one standing before her now.
His eyes are just so blue… Wait a minute?—
Worry clawed at her chest, but she had little time to dwell on it.
Without any greeting or wavering of his piercing blue eyes, Damon’s commanding voice cut through the silence.
“Show me to me study,” he demanded, his tone leaving little room for argument.
“Where is me sister?” Lilith asked, forcing strength into her voice.
Damon tore his eyes away from her, taking in the hall around them before answering. The muscles on his neck rippled as he turned his head until he was facing her. She watched as his icy stare traveled up the length of her body before meeting her gaze once more, sharp and unyielding.
“She was injured on the way here,” he said. “An accident that left her with the tiniest of scratches, ye ken. But me braither, everthe overprotective husband, took her back to Brahanne Keep to recover.”
Lilith’s worry deepened with the confusion.
A scratch made her turn around? From what? What could have possibly?—
