Page 123 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
Rodrick’s smirk faded, his tone turning serious. “Escortin’ Lady McCallum to the keep.”
Damon’s breath caught in his throat. His entire body went rigid.
“What?” he rasped.
Rodrick nodded in the direction of Brahanne Keep. “She’s safe.”
Damon’s chest constricted with something he refused to name. Relief. Anger. A tangled mess of both.
Lilith was safe.
She had gone to Keegan.
Without him.
Damon exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay in control. “Take me to them. Now.”
Rodrick gave a curt nod. “Follow me.”
Damon swung himself back onto his horse without hesitation. He had wasted enough time.
And he had words for Lilith. Whether she wanted to hear them or not.
EPILOGUE
Brahanne Keep stood tall against the pale sky, its stone walls worn by time yet still formidable. Lilith stood near the window of the guest chamber Keegan had provided her, staring out at the distant hills.
She had fled here thinking that she could outrun her emotions. Thinking that if she put enough distance between herself and Damon, she could keep her heart intact.
He wanted me gone.
But she had been wrong. Every breath, every thought, every aching moment had been consumed by him.
And now he was here.
She felt him before she saw him. The shift in the air, the sound of hurried footsteps down the corridor, the sudden pounding of her heart against her ribs.
Then, the door flew open with force, slamming against the stone wall, and there he stood.
Damon.
His dark hair was wind-tousled, his face lined with exhaustion, his cloak bearing the dust of his relentless ride. But his eyes—his stormy blue eyes—locked onto hers, brimming with something raw and undeniable.
“Ye stubborn, impossible woman,” he growled, his voice hoarse. “Do ye ken what ye’ve put me through?”
Lilith opened her mouth, but the words died on her tongue as he strode toward her. His hands gripped her arms—not rough, but desperate, grounding himself in her presence.
“I searched for ye like a madman. Thought I’d lost ye. And I cannae—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I cannae do this without ye, Lilith.”
“Do what?”
“This! Life! All of it! Anythin’,” he said, for once coming apart at the seams. “Ye cannae even fathom what went through me mind when I was told that ye were gone. I-I-I could have burned all of the Highlands down to find ye.”
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “Damon?—”
“Nay, let me speak,” he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion.
He loosened his hold, but only to cup her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against her cheekbones as if committing every detail to memory.
