Page 42 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
Lilith swallowed a scream.
The warmth of the hearth could scarcely temper the chill in the air outside. Lilith stood by the window in the room she would now share with her husband, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression a mask of defiance.
Every room was bursting with occupants—soldiers, villagers in need, and the staff Damon had brought from McCallum Keep.She couldn’t fault him for thinking ahead, but being confined to one room with him… it was a battle she hadn’t been prepared to fight tonight, and she was tired. Very tired.
He had this planned the entire time. I ken well enough that he did. He only told me after the fact—another thing he’s kept from me!
She turned to face him, watching as he methodically removed his sword belt and set the weapon by the door. “Ye could have made more of the men share.”
Damon didn’t look up as he rolled back his shoulders, his stance impossibly casual. “It’s nae fair to force more than two men in a room the same size as this one.” He straightened, finally meeting her gaze, his blue eyes steady and unyielding. “Besides, what message does it send if the Laird and his Lady cannae share a room? It’d be an insult to the men who’ve given up their own comfort to stand with us. Nae to mention all the work ye have done to get the village on our side.”
Lilith pressed her lips into a thin line, knowing he was right, though she loathed to admit it. “Still, ye could have warned me. Ye didnae have to keep it from me—anotherthing ye have kept from me. And I’m… I’m nae used to this. We havenae…”
Damon stepped closer to her, his movements slow and deliberate. “I didnae plan this. Whether ye choose to believe me or nae, I had nay hand in this. Ye can thank the Savior for that sort of divine intervention.”
Lilith was acutely aware that the distance between them had closed. A piece of parchment could fit between them.
“And,” Damon continued, “I have nay intention of breakin’ me promise to ye. But our evening was interrupted, and I plan to get me time with ye back—in one way or another.”
Her breath hitched as his words sank in, and she couldn’t even think about anything else but the kiss they had been sharing when the news of the attack broke. Her stomach did flips as she fought to control the flush that was creeping up her cheeks.
Lilith wanted to argue, to demand that he find another way, but the truth lingered between them, undeniable. Palpable.
She squared her shoulders. “Fine. I’ll take the bed, ye take the floor.”
Damon kicked off his boots and lay down on the mattress, looking for all the world like he belonged there. “Nah.”
Lilith sputtered. “What do ye mean, nah?”
He turned his head, smirking up at her. “I mean exactly that. Nah.”
She clenched her fists, debating whether she could push him off the bed without injuring herself in the process.
Instead, she grabbed a pillow and hurled it at his face.
Damon caught it effortlessly. “Tsk. Violence already, wife? And we havenae even shared a bed yet.”
“I swear on every ancestor I have, if ye dinnae shut yer mouth, I will stab ye.”
Damon laughed, tucking his arms beneath his head. “Aye, I believe it.”
Lilith seethed. There was only one thing left to do.
She grabbed the blanket, yanked it off him, and stomped over to the hearth, where the hard wooden floor at least promised some distance between her and the infuriating brute she had married.
With a huff, she lowered herself in front of the fire, pulled the blanket around her like a cocoon, and leaned back against the sole armchair.
Damon chuckled softly behind her.
“What?” she snapped, not dignifying him with a look.
“Nothin’, lass. Just thinkin’ about how cold ye’ll get in the middle of the night.”
Lilith scowled at the flames.
This is fine. I willnae share the bed. I willnae get cold.
She would not, under any circumstances, wake up pressed against his stupid, warm, irritatingly solid body.
