Page 60 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
“Never,” Ryder declared firmly, his voice gaining strength. “I’ll serve ye and the Laird until me dying breath. I’m just on me way to Mrs. Bryant, but I’ll be right back up.”
“Of course.” Lilith nodded, her worry easing slightly. “How is the Laird?” she asked after a moment.
Ryder’s expression darkened. “He’s in the study,” he replied. “Angry. Upset. The attacks are weighin’ heavily on him.”
Lilith bit her lip, her earlier resolve wavering.
If Damon is already in such a foul mood, would it really be wise to approach him now?
“Thank ye, Ryder,” she said finally. “I think… I’ll leave him be, for now.”
Ryder nodded firmly, before continuing on his way.
Lilith turned back toward her chambers, her thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty.
I hope he’s nae this mad at me… I cannae imagine bein’ on the other side of his ire.
Back in her room, she picked up her press book and slipped the flower that Damon bought her between the pages. As she flattened it against the parchment, she couldn’t help but think about their argument.
Her chest tightened at the memory of his anger, of the way his eyes had blazed when he’d scolded her for putting herself in harm’s way. A part of her understood his frustration—truly, she did.
But another part of her bristled at the way he treated her. As if she were fragile. As if she couldn’t handle herself. She had acted to protect him, and that should have mattered more than whether or not she followed his orders.
With a frustrated sigh, Lilith rose to her feet. She needed to speak with him, to clear the air before the tension between them grew further.
She found him in his study, seated at his desk, his head bent over a piece of parchment. The room smelled faintly of ink and parchment and whiskey, and the low light cast shadows over his face.
“Husband,” she began firmly, her voice much harsher than she had intended as she stepped into the room.
He looked up, his expression hardening the moment he saw her. “What do ye need, dove?”
That term of endearment was somehow not endearing at all, but it cooled her anger all the same.
A string pulled tightly behind her navel, but she forced herself to press on. “I came to talk. About what happened earlier.”
“There’s nothin’ to discuss,” he said shortly, returning his attention to the parchment. “Ye should go, I have clan matters to get back to.”
Her heart sank at his coldness, but she refused to be dismissed so easily.
“I dinnae wish for us to spend another night like this,” she insisted, her voice firmer now. “This is supposed to be our fourth night together. I want us to have it.”
Damon’s hand froze, his quill poised above the parchment. He raised his head slowly, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. “Ye’re askin’ me to spend time with ye?”
“Aye,” she said, lifting her chin. “I am.”
For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes locked onto hers as if searching for some hidden motive. Finally, he set the quill down and leaned back in his chair.
“Fine, then,” he relented, rising to his feet.
As he moved toward the door, Lilith noticed another presence in the room. Her gaze landed on Ryder, who had been seated quietly in the corner, unnoticed until now. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he offered her a polite nod.
Damon’s sharp eyes didn’t miss her reaction, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Somethin’ wrong?” he asked, his tone tinged with amusement.
“Nay,” she said quickly, averting her gaze.
“Are ye sure? Ye seemed awfully flustered just now.”
The heat in her cheeks deepened, and she turned on her heel, storming out of the study without another word. She heard Damon’s footsteps behind her, his low chuckle infuriatingly smug as he followed her down the hall.
