Page 23 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
“Nae,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “What ye need is someone to make sure that ye arenae caught off guard by a blade in the dark.”
Her breath hitched as he loomed over her, the heat of him almost as overwhelming as the heat in the forge. She refused toback down, holding his gaze with as much defiance as she could muster.
Is that what happened? Why is he nae tellin’ me everything?
“Next time, tell me what’s happenin’ in me own home,” she huffed. “I’m nae a child, Damon. I can handle the truth.”
His expression softened just a fraction, and he nodded. “Aye. Ye can.”
“And I ken well enough that ye arenae tellin’ me the whole truth. I deserve to ken more than me own servants.”
“Aye, we’ll talk more tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Damon’s eyes landed on her lips, and for a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. Their bodies and mouths were too close for any respectful conversation to continue.
The pull that Lilith felt beneath her navel was almost excruciating, and she knew that Damon was the only one who could relieve her of the discomfort.
But then he stepped back, breaking the spell.
“Go back to the castle,” he urged, his tone firm but not unkind. “I’ll join ye shortly for our first night together. Unless ye wish to go back on yer word, wife?”
Lilith hesitated, reminded of the deal they had made, torn between wanting to press him further and knowing she’d gotten all she could for now.
Finally, she turned and left, her thoughts a tangled mess. “I’ll see ye tonight, husband.”
As she walked back to the castle, Finley following at a respectful distance behind, she couldn’t shake the image of Damon in the forge, the firelight dancing across his skin. Nor could she forget the way he’d looked at her, as if he saw more than just the woman he’d married out of duty.
What are ye doin’ to me, Damon Aragain?
She didn’t have an answer, but as the day wore on, she found herself thinking back to that moment over and over again, the memory of his mouth on her neck intertwining with the sight of him in the forge, until she could no longer deny the truth: Damon was more than a husband. He was a force—one she wasn’t sure she could resist.
And for the first time, Lilith wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Hours later, the fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over Lilith’s chambers, but the warmth did little to easethe restless energy inside her. She paced back and forth, her bare feet silent against the worn rug. Her nerves were fraying. Damon would be there any moment.
When he mentioned that he’d join her for their first night together, she didn’t ask any clarifying questions, and now the undeniable sense of anxiety crashed into her like a relentless wave.
“Ye could have at least had the sense to ask what time, ye daft fool…”
Her stomach twisted at the thought of him being in her chambers soon. Not because of fear—no, that would have been simpler—but because of everything else he made her feel. She still couldn’t shake the image of him shirtless in the forge, the muscles in his back shifting like those of a predator in action. It was maddening, the way her mind kept dredging up that memory, and even more maddening that he’d acted as if nothing had happened.
She paused by the window, gripping the sill. “Get it together,” she muttered to herself.
Tonight was not going to be as he had planned. It also wasn’t about his shoulders, his arms, or the way his voice made her skin tingle. Tonight, she was going to get the answers to her unanswered questions.
A knock at the door startled her. She spun around, her pulse quickening as Damon strode in without waiting for permission.
Typical.
“Good evening, wife,” he said, his voice smooth and annoyingly self-assured.
He had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two glasses in the other.
Lilith arched an eyebrow. “What’s this? An apology?”
“Hardly.” He placed the glasses on the table and pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to sit. “It’s a game. I thought we could have a bit of fun on our first night.”
