Page 7 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
The sincerity in his voice stroked her spine, catching her quite off guard, and she managed a quiet, trembling, “Thank ye,” before turning to face the priest.
The ceremony passed in a blur. Vows were exchanged, hands were bound, and when the priest declared them husband and wife, she let Damon lead her back down the aisle and into the feast, his hand enveloping hers. It was the out-of-tune clinking of glasses that snapped her back into the present, as her new husband stood to address the crowd.
Rising from his seat silently, commanding attention with his mere presence, the air seemed to go still as he cast his gaze over the gathered clansfolk, his eyes sharp and unreadable.
“Tonight,” he declared, his voice low but steady, carrying effortlessly across the room, “we mark the start of something new. Change is never easy, and I ken ye’ve suffered under Magnus’s rule. Cruelty and greed reigned where there should’ve been justice and strength.”
The room remained silent, a mix of curiosity and unease rippling through the attentive faces.
“But let me be clear,” Damon continued, his tone firm. “That chapter is closed. I am nae Magnus Flanagan. I dinnae rule with spite or malice. I will be fair to those who are loyal and true. To those who challenge me, however…” He let the words hang in the air, their weight unmistakable.
Lilith felt a shiver run through her at his words, not entirely certain if it was from fear or admiration for his unflinching resolve.
“I ask only for what every clan deserves—unity and trust. Together,” he said, resting a hand on Lilith’s shoulder, “we will rebuild stronger than ever before.” He raised his cup in a subtle toast. “To Clan McCallum.”
A tentative cheer rose among the clansfolk, growing louder as people exchanged glances of cautious hope.
The music resumed without a moment’s delay, and Damon turned to Lilith, his expression still unreadable. “Dance with me.”
The corners of her eyes tightened. “Ye might consider askin’ for once.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Would ye refuse yer husband?”
Before she could answer, he extended his hand. With a reluctant sigh, Lilith took it, letting him lead her to the dance floor.
The crowd watched intently as the new Laird and his bride moved together in time with the music. Damon’s hand rested firmly on her waist, the other clasping hers with a grip that was strong yet not unpleasant. Lilith couldn’t deny the heat of his touch, though she wasn’t sure if it was from nervousness or something else entirely.
As the music swirled around them, Councilman Sebastian Morris approached with a grin that spoke of overindulgence in ale, his cane punctuating loudly with each step.
“A fine match, Laird McCallum. Young Lilith here is our pride and joy,” he said, bowing slightly to them both. Then, with a tip of his chalice and eyes bulging with foolish drunken stupor, he continued, “We’ll be expectin’ a strong McCallum heir soon, aye?”
Lilith flushed deeply, but Damon remained impassive, merely inclining his head in acknowledgment before leading her back toward their table.
They had barely taken their seats when someone from the crowd shouted above the chatter, “Kiss yer bride, Me Laird!”
Lilith froze, her cheeks burning as all eyes turned to them. Damon shifted his attention to her, his expression as cool and composed as ever. Slowly, he reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a deliberate, lingering kiss to her knuckles. The heat of his breath and his familiar scent sent red-hot blood rushing into a new, deep space between her hips.
The room around them erupted in laughter and groans of disappointment.
Damon released her hand, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “More than this,” he said with a violent sort of calmness, “isnae for yer eyes to see.”
The implication of his words sent a wave of elation through the guests, their laughter and cheers echoing in the hall.
“Speakin’ of…” he trailed off.
Adding more excitement into the mix, Damon rose from his seat without warning and bent down, lifting Lilith into his arms in one fluid motion.
Lilith buried her face in his chest, mortified by the renewed cheers and whistles. She felt him twitch as her hot breath hit his neck, and he held her tighter.
His voice was loud enough for only her to hear as he said, “Time to go, lass.”
3
The second the latch on Damon’s chamber door clicked, Lilith snapped out of her daze. She squirmed in his arms, her voice sharper than she had intended. “Put me down this instant!”
Damon quietly obliged, lowering her onto her feet with maddening calm.
As she smoothed her dress, her gaze darted around the room.
