Page 6 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
“But what about ye, Lil?” Ariah chimed in.
Lilith smiled, though frustration threatened to bleed through her tone. “I’ve said it already—this isnae about me. It never was.”
Melissa sighed, shaking her head. “Well, I think I’ll go have a word with Damon, just to be sure this is truly what he wants as well.” She straightened and made her way to the door.
“Good luck with that,” Lilith muttered under her breath, earning a chuckle from Ariah.
After Melissa left, Ariah moved closer, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.
“What is it?” Lilith asked absentmindedly.
“Are ye… ready for tonight?”
Lilith frowned. “What do ye mean?”
Ariah blushed, her fingers twisting nervously. “I mean… the wedding night.”
Lilith stiffened. “This is a marriage of convenience, Ariah. There’s nothin’ to prepare for tonight.”
Ariah hesitated before pressing on. “There doesnae need to be love between ye for… things to happen, ye ken? Have ye talked with the Laird about it?”
Lilith’s stomach twisted, but she forced calm into her voice. “Of course I have,” she lied, hoping to put an end to the conversation.
Ariah seemed unconvinced but nodded anyway. She opened her mouth as if to say more but then closed it, shaking her head.
Lilith narrowed her eyes at her. “What is it?”
“Nothin’,” Ariah said quickly. “Just… promise me ye will take care of yerself, aye?”
Lilith nodded—another lie.
Great. Just when I thought I calmed me nerves, I have to be reminded of tonight, again. Will we…?
Melissa returned all too soon, her face a mask of disappointment. “It’s time,” she said quietly.
Lilith blanched.
“Ye will be fine, Lil,” Melissa assured her, her voice more gentle. “Me braither may have a reputation for bein’ a brute, but he will respect ye, protect ye, and treat ye well. Always.”
The words settled over Lilith as she swallowed hard and nodded. Gathering her layered skirts, she followed her friends out of her chambers and down the main staircase toward the Great Hall.
Myriads of color and sound assaulted her senses. The air was thick with anticipation, and her chest tightened. She watched as Melissa and Ariah sat on the front bench.
The aisle was now empty. Damon stood at the front, his back turned toward her.
The immovable stone walls of the hall started to close in on her as she took slow, calculated steps toward her groom. Her hands clenched and unclenched as she started to count her breaths.
What if this is a mistake? Is there another way to save the clan? What if?—
The ringing in her ears and the thoughts racing through her mind all faded into nothing when he turned to face her.
All she was able to see was Damon, standing at the front of the long aisle, his piercing eyes locked onto hers. It was all she could do to stay upright as the edges of her vision faded.
He dipped his chin, almost as a gesture of understanding, and extended his palms toward her—a somehow calming act that sent a wave of relief through her ribcage. With each slow step, she cataloged his tweed jacket, his relaxed fists, his curly black hair, and his ice-cold blue eyes.
Palms aside, his expression was completely unreadable. As she drew nearer, she recognized the familiar muted notes of fresh cedar and vetiver. The edges of her vision shook violently as the walls vaulted back into place, and the strains from the harp filled her ears once more.
“Ye look beautiful.”
