Page 32 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her defiance. “Ye are also the one who will be in the way if things go wrong.”
“In the way?” she repeated, her voice dripping with incredulity. “If anything, I’ll be the one keepin’ things from goin’ wrong. Ye’re new here, Damon. Ye dinnae ken these people like I do.”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might argue further. But then, to her surprise, he let out a resigned sigh and shook his head.
“Fine,” he muttered, turning back toward the corridor. “Come along, then. But dinnae blame me when ye regret it.”
Lilith blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his abrupt concession. “That’s it?” she asked, hurrying to catch up with him.
“What?” he said over his shoulder. “Did ye want me to continue arguin’ with ye?”
“Well, nay, but I expected a bit more resistance,” she admitted, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “It was almost too easy…”
He shot her a sidelong glance, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk. “Maybe I’m savin’ me energy. I’ll need it to keep ye out of trouble out there.”
Lilith rolled her eyes, though a small part of her was oddly pleased by his teasing tone. “Oh, how thoughtful of ye,” she said dryly. “Tell me, Damon, do ye always underestimate the women in yer life, or am I just special?”
“Special,” he said without hesitation, though his tone was laced with sarcasm. “And infuriating.”
She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her, releasing the tension coiled tight in her core. “If I’m infuriating, it’s just because ye’re nae as smart as me. Ye brute,” she teased.
“Brute?” he echoed, glancing back at her as they descended the stairs and hurried toward the stables. “Is that yer idea of a compliment?”
“It’s more generous than what I could have said,” she retorted, lifting her chin.
He chuckled, the sound deep and surprisingly warm. “I’ll take it.”
By the time they reached the stables, Lilith was both flustered and oddly exhilarated. The tension between them was electric, crackling like a storm on the horizon. Damon barked orders at the stable hands to prepare the horses, his tone businesslike once more. But when he turned back to her, his blue eyes softened slightly.
“Ye’ll stay close,” he instructed, his voice quieter but no less firm. “Nay wanderin’ off. Nay takin’ risks. And if I tell ye to do something, ye do it. Understood?”
Lilith arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sweet but pointed smile. “Of course, Me Laird.”
His gaze lingered on her, searching, as though he didn’t entirely trust her. “I mean it, Lilith.”
“And I heard ye the first time,” she said lightly, brushing past him to check the saddle on her horse. “But dinnae fash—I have nay intention of gettin’ meself killed. That would ruin yer day, would it nae?”
“More than ye ken,” he muttered under his breath.
But she caught the words and felt an unexpected flutter in her chest.
As they mounted their horses, Damon cast a final, warning glance at her. “Try to keep up.”
Lilith smirked, gripping the reins with confidence. “I should be sayin’ that to ye.”
His lips twitched in amusement, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he spurred his horse forward, leading the way out of the castle gates. Lilith followed close behind, her pulse quickening as the wind whipped through her hair.
The ride to Branloch was brisk, the wind nipping her cheeks as the night deepened. Her mind raced, and worry gnawed at her as she thought of the attack and Ryder. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, and while he was more than capable of taking care of himself, the idea of brigands attacking the village turned her stomach.
Damon glanced at her as they rode, his brow furrowed. “Ye’re quiet.”
“Dinnae get used to it,” she muttered, keeping her gaze on the darkened path ahead.
He smirked faintly. “Ye’re worried?”
She hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. “Ryder.”
His expression shifted slightly, his interest piqued. “The same Ryder ye suggested as man-at-arms?”
