Page 21 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
Her mother’s flowers still bloomed here, bright and defiant. Roses, lilies, violets, and lavender—all thriving in their quiet sanctuary. A small stone bench sat beneath the shade of an old willow, its branches swaying gently in the breeze.
“Willow is mar-marr—” she started to say and laughed unironically, tears threatening to fall from her eyes as she blinked them away. “She’s married now! How exciting!” Her voice hitched.
She ran her fingers over the petals of a white rose, inhaling its delicate scent.
“I’m…” she started again. “I’m also married. It’s all been…exciting.”
She sat on the bench, leaning back against the cool stone, and let her mind drift. The exhaustion of the past few days settled over her as she continued to tell the spirit of her mother everything about her life, heavier than before.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
A sharp nudge against her shoulder startled her awake.
She blinked, disoriented, before Finley’s tense face came into view. He never disturbed her here. Never.
Lilith sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What is it?”
Finley hesitated. His eyes flicked toward the castle in the distance, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
“We need to get back,” he said.
Something is wrong.
Lilith’s heart pounded as she rose. “What’s happened?”
Finley didn’t answer. He only held out his hand to help her onto her horse.
And that, more than anything, told her that whatever waited for her at the keep wasn’t good.
6
As she rushed through the castle, Lilith spotted a maid carrying linens down the staircase.
“Where is the Laird?” she demanded loudly.
Her heart was racing with the anxiety of not knowing what was happening—yet again.
The young maid hesitated, clutching the linens tightly to her chest. “The Laird was at the forge, Me Lady.”
“The forge?” Lilith frowned thoughtfully. “What was he doin’ there?”
The maid’s eyes darted to Finley before she dipped her head. “I couldnae say.”
Lilith huffed. She didn’t care what Damon was doing—she cared what was happening. Without another word, she changed course, heading toward the forge.
It was set apart from the main castle, its stone walls stained black from years of smoke and fire. As Lilith approached, she noticed that one of the lads who worked there was standing near the entrance. He stiffened when he saw her.
“The Laird is nae to be disturbed,” he said firmly, stepping into her path.
Lilith raised an eyebrow and explained slowly, careful not to let her frustration take over, “I’m his wife and lady of this clan, laddie. I will decide whether or nae me husband is to be disturbed, all right?”
The boy faltered, clearly conflicted. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Me Lady. The Laird ordered me to ‘tell anyone who comes up ‘ere, but I’m certain now that the order didnae apply to ye.”
Lilith smiled kindly and nodded her head with understanding. “Right ye are, laddie.”
She walked past him and pushed the door open, leaving him and Finley outside.
The heat hit her first, thick and oppressive, carrying the tang of molten metal and sweat. Then, her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, and what she saw made her breath catch.
