Chapter 5
5
“ T he blue one goes to the scribe, Mr. Cormag Ross, and he sits behind ye. The slender, red ones are the ledgers—to Mr. Rory Scarth, yer Chamberlain. Brown goes to yer War Leader, Mr. Duncan Dunbar. Green to yer Lawman, Mr. Tristain Gunn. Mr. Sebastian Morris will represent the Elders, his is the black-bound book. Ye can just keep all but the blue book with ye at the head of the table.”
“Thank ye, Smith,” Damon said as he took the council ledgers from her outstretched arms and tucked them easily under one arm.
“They are gathered upstairs, Me Laird.”
“Right,” he uttered with finality and quickly made his way back upstairs into the war room.
When he entered, he assessed all of the council members’ varying expressions—concern, curiosity, and, in some cases, thinly veiled annoyance.
This wasnae how I wished for our first meeting to go…
He clocked the barely rising sun outside, and winced.
Councilman Sebastian Morris, the oldest of the group, leaned heavily on his cane as he took his seat. His lined face was pale, but his gaze was sharp. Councilman Tristan Gunn, younger and ever composed, sat with a calm expression, his hands folded neatly on the table. Others murmured amongst themselves, but the room fell silent soon after Damon entered.
He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “There was an assassin in me chambers last night.”
Cries of shock rippled through the councilmen. Sebastian’s grip on his cane tightened, while Tristan merely raised an eyebrow.
“I have dealt with him,” Damon continued, his voice cold. “He’s dead. But I have reason to believe that he didnae act alone. Someone brought him into the castle, and I intend to find out who.”
“Ye didnae keep him alive?” Tristan was the first to speak.
“Firstly!” Sebastian boomed with all of the authority of someone in charge, taking over the conversation. “This is troubling, indeed. An attack on ye is an attack on the clan itself?—”
“Troubling?” Tristan interjected smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm. “I disagree. I mean it’s hardly unexpected, Me Laird. Ye have just married into the clan. There are bound to be those loyal to the Flanagan family who resent yer presence.”
Damon’s eyes narrowed on him. “Are ye suggestin’ that this is something I should simply accept?”
Tristan met his gaze without flinching. “I’m suggestin’ that ye should consider the possibility that this wasnae a targeted attack. The McCallums have enemies, as do ye. Perhaps this was simply the work of one such enemy, actin’ on what they thought an opportunity rather than intent.”
“Sure, but on their wedding night?” Councilman Rory Scarth countered. “Seems off. Why would anyone wish to harm Lady Lilith?”
Heads bobbed in agreement, and Damon made a mental note that Rory had a sound head on his shoulders.
Tristan spoke next. “Honestly, this assassin most likely wouldnae have.”
“Ye speak quite knowingly, Mr. Gunn,” Sebastian noted, blatant accusation in his tone.
“Och aye—nae all of us at this table have had the luxury of never seein’ a day of battle or nae bein’ on the receiving end of an enemy’s blade or pistol.”
Sebastian, taking great offense, slammed his cane loudly into the ground. “How dare ye say that to me face!”
“Would ye rather I say it behind yer back? Ye have absolutely nay concept of how men think when they have a mind to kill. So, how can ye sit there and try to force yer uninformed opinion on us? I suggest ye leave the discussions to those of us with battle experience.”
Damon had heard enough bickering to last him a lifetime.
Slamming his palm on the table hard, he demanded immediate silence without a word and the men obliged. “That’s enough. All of ye are grown men and bring to this council a wealth of diverse experience in yer own way. True assassins, like the one I encountered tonight, arenae just men who have simply seen battle. Let’s start from there.”
“Ye wish us to list out all of those who have issues with Clan McCallum, then?” Tristan scoffed.
“And within the clan,” Damon added.
“Within? Ye must be mad?—”
Sebastian shook his head. “We cannae afford to dismiss this, Tristan. We must turn over all stones. It may be one of our known enemy clans, of which we do have a few. But if someone within the clan is responsible?—”
“Then they will answer to me,” Damon declared sharply, his voice cutting through the murmurs.
Silence fell once more, heavy with tension.
Damon’s eyes swept over the council, hard as steel. “If I find out that one of ye had a hand in this, I’ll nae hesitate to punish him. Make nay mistake—loyalty to this clan is loyalty to me and Lilith. Betrayal willnae be tolerated.”
His words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike.
Tristan’s expression didn’t waver, but Sebastian looked visibly troubled. Others shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their unease palpable.
After a moment, Damon straightened. “The guards are searchin’ the castle. Until we have answers, I expect every one of ye to cooperate fully. This council’s purpose is to protect the clan, and I’ll hold each of ye to that purpose.”
With that, he turned and left the room, his steps echoing in the quiet corridor.
Outside, he found Lilith waiting. She stood with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
“Ye’re awake,” he said, his tone lighter than he had expected.
“Hard nae to be,” she replied coolly. “The castle’s in an uproar.”
Says the woman who quite literally slept through it all…
His lips curled upward as he quickly closed the distance between them, looking her over for too long of a moment. The way she blushed under his gaze made his loins tighten, and more than ever he wished he had her pinned against the wall in his chambers again.
“And are ye unharmed?” he inquired.
Her eyes narrowed. “Unharmed? What is this about?”
“Answer the question, Lilith!”
Damon’s frustration startled her.
Clearly understanding that the time for joking was not that moment, she hissed, “I am fine, Damon .” Her chin jutt out defiantly as she continued, “But I would like to ken what is happenin’.”
Damon hesitated, wanting to put his lips on the growing blush creeping up her neck. He wanted to shield her from danger, but he knew she wouldn’t accept vague reassurances.
Avoid it altogether, or have this conversation here.
His mind was reeling from the unproductive council meeting, the way Lilith smelled, and the assassin’s attempt on his life. Thoughts of pinning her against the wall right then and there joined the fray. His leg between hers, feeling her warmth on his thigh?—
Shite.
“Ye willnae leave her side, Finley,” Damon barked suddenly.
He tore his eyes away from her and glanced at the man standing off to the side of the corridor. He waited for Finley to acknowledge the order before he turned around and sauntered off toward his chambers without another word.
“Christ!” he exclaimed once he was in the safety of his chambers, slamming the books down on the table.
He gripped the back of the armchair tightly, wanting to pick it up and smash it on the ground just to see it break into smithereens. The tension he felt building in his loins was unbearable. He needed release, and soon. In the wee hours of the morning and the dead of night, she was gorgeous, and she was his.
His eyes traveled up the spot where the assassin had been, but there was no trace of blood or struggle. The rug had been scrubbed thoroughly, and the floorboards looked so clean that they could have easily just been replaced. And, best of all, the curtains had been replaced with heavier fabric to block out the brightening daylight.
As if nothin’ had happened…
“Damn, Smith,” he mused, impressed by the housekeeper’s handiwork.
He shuffled over to his bed, then sat on the edge and kicked off his boots. His trews were haphazardly tossed into a corner, along with his jacket. Before pulling the blankets aside, he checked that his dagger was replaced under his pillow and that his pistol was still loaded in the top drawer of his bedside table.
Satisfied with his sleeping arrangement, he slid into bed. His shoulders were still tense, and his wounds stretched painfully with each breath he took, but worse of all, his torso remained unbelievably tight. Thoughts of Lilith took over the events of the evening, and he once again fought the need for release as he tossed and turned, desperately seeking sleep.
“Never leave me side?” Lilith scoffed.
Finely stood stoically behind her. “Within reason, I’m sure, Me Lady.”
“To be sure!” she huffed before storming off toward her chambers.
Lilith knew that Finely was aware he was to stand outside her chamber doors. In fact, the man knew exactly what it all meant, because even Finley Reynolds knew what was going on in this castle. For all she knew, even the servants knew. Everyone knew what was going on, except her.
She grabbed a pillow and threw it as hard as she could at the wall. The muted sound as it slammed against the stone was anticlimactic, but she wasn’t in a destructive mood. Instead, she wore a circular path in her floorboards as she paced and stewed in her thoughts.
“Everyone else kens what is goin’ on, and he didnae even respect me enough to clue me in?” she hissed to her empty room.
Seeing the bell pull, she gripped it and yanked hard. “Since he refused, maybe Greer will tell me.”
Moments later, Lilith’s maid stood in the doorway. Before Finley shut the door, they exchanged knowing looks. One that said, “She isnae goin’ to tell ye,” from Finley, and one that said, “I’ll be damned if I dinnae try,” from her.
“Me Lady?” Greer said, bowing as the door finally closed. Straightening quickly, she set the tea tray down and moved closer.
“I’d like to get ready, please. What is the weather like?” Lilith asked, twisting around and looking out the window briefly.
The morning sun was creeping over the horizon, but her warm breath still fogged up the glass.
“Very well. It’s cool outside, but the sun is not yet fully out—might turn out to be a fine day.”
“I wish to go ridin’. A coat, then?”
“Aye, though the stables are locked for the day.” Greer smiled in understanding and lifted the fabric draped over her arm.
“The stables are locked?”
“Aye, Me Lady. But I dinnae ken why,” Greer said a little too quickly.
“Of course,” Lilith muttered, catching her maid’s eye. “Thank ye.”
She kens well enough… How do I get it out of her?
Rolling her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, Lilith finally eased herself into the steaming bathtub.
“Have ye attended to Melissa yet?”
“Aye, Me Lady. Though…” Greer stuttered, shrugged, and then made herself busy with refolding the linen towels.
“Though what?”
Greer’s wince was unmistakable.
“What happened, Greer?”
“Nothing happened, Me Lady. Only, Lady Melissa Aragain has left the castle in the Brahanne carriage. She left before first light.”
“What! Left? Are ye sure?”
“Aye, Me Lady. Smith and I packed her trunks.”
“But why?”
“There’s nay tellin’, Me Lady. Perhaps she was unwell and needed to return? Perhaps she received a letter from Laird Brahanne demandin’ it?”
“That’s rather outlandish, though. Dinnae ye ken, Greer?”
“It’s nae me place to assume anything, Me Lady.”
“Of course,” Lilith said, and then again softer, more contemplative. “Of course.”
“Do ye want to break yer fast in here or downstairs?” Greer asked, collecting the used linen in her arms.
“Downstairs, please.”
“Very well. I’ll return shortly,” the maid said before scurrying away.
She has to ken what’s goin’ on. Did Damon tell them nae to tell me, though?
Lilith soaked in the bathing oils until the water cooled. The warmed towel wrapped fully around her slight frame as she stepped out and dried herself. The robe hanging near the hearth felt lovely against her skin, and for the briefest of moments, the image of Damon pressing the softest kiss to her neck flashed through her mind.
“Christ!” she exclaimed as Greer burst through her chamber doors, interrupting her thoughts and startling her back to the present.
“Apologies, Me Lady,” Greer offered quickly, almost out of breath.
“I’ll have Finley come fix the door when ye have gone.”
“Very well, thank ye.”
The dress that the maid picked out accentuated Lilith’s curves in such a way that made her look all the more like a recently plucked newlywed.
“ Must I wear this one?”
“Smith laid it out, Me Lady. Kennin’ what the Laird is wearin’, I’m sure she meant well in coordinatin’ the wardrobes today. Nae for much longer, though.”
“Aye, I will wear this today. But ye will resume the responsibilities of dressin’ me, movin’ forward. Ye ken me well enough to ken that I dinnae wish to match—I didnae even like to match with me own twin.”
“Aye, Me Lady. As ye wish.”
Matching attire. How gaudy…
“Tell me, Greer. What do ye ken about the goings-on in the castle? Do ye ken what happened last night?”
“Honestly, Me Lady, I dinnae ken. Smith was careful that nay one told me.”
“Why is that?”
“The Laird’s order, Me Lady.” Greer shrugged as she tied the laces at the back of Lilith’s dress.
Knowing that Greer would not share much more, Lilith let the matter go for now. But she trusted that her maid was speaking the truth.
After dismissing her, she stood facing the window.
What shall I do today if Damon has gone and locked up the stables?
Moments later, she burst out of her chamber and strode toward the grand staircase. Finley quickly caught up to her, not having missed a single beat.
“ Must ye hover like a shadow?” Lilith snapped as they descended the stone staircase toward the Great Hall.
Finley’s lips curled into a faint smile. “The Laird’s orders, Me Lady. A shadow I must be.”
The Laird’s orders, the Laird’s orders, the Laird’s orders—I’ll surely go mad from ‘the Laird’s orders.’
“Of course, it’s just—well, ye ken what it reminds me of,” she muttered, her irritation simmering.
Damon had barely spoken to her, and he’d already assigned her a guard.
The thought alone made her blood simmer. This wasn’t the first time Finley shadowed her, nor was it even the second or third time.
No, Finley had taken it upon himself, when Magnus was still alive, to be her unofficial man-at-arms. He also accompanied Willow, but after her departure, he remained close to Lilith exclusively.
Finely had been aware of Magnus’s tendencies when he let his anger rule him. He had made his disapproval known, and was subsequently dismissed. But Willow and Lilith reinstated him, and they worked together against their brother to ensure that Finley remained on the guard.
Since he had shadowed her before, of his own accord, Lilith found his new assignment incredibly unnecessary. Especially since she wasn’t made aware of the reasons behind his assignment. But she wouldn’t fight it—Finely’s companionship was a thing she’d grown accustomed to.
I just wish it wasnae forced.
Finley followed her silently, his presence a constant reminder of Damon’s overbearing protectiveness. Her irritation, while directed at Finley, wasn’t meant for him. He was loyal and sharp, but his new constant proximity only added to her frustration.
What is goin’ on in this castle?
No one had told her what had happened during the night. The vague tension in the air made her feel like an outsider, a pawn in a game she didn’t yet understand. And Damon, her infuriating husband, was nowhere to be found.
By midday, Lilith had had enough. She paced the library, her frustration mounting. She needed answers, and Damon was going to give them to her.
She stormed out of the room and toward the courtyard, Finley hot on her heels.
“Can I please have a second to meself, Finley? I appreciate what ye are doin’, but I really need some space.”
“Protectin’ ye is me only task, Me Lady,” Finley replied with a shrug, his tone infuriatingly calm. “But I’ll stay a few more paces back if that’s all right?”
“Aye, wonderful. Thank ye,” Lilith muttered under her breath, her mind searching for any kind of respite.
Suddenly, the corridor walls felt like a cage, closing in on her, smothering her. The edges of her vision blurred as her fingers twisted in the folds of the gown she’d been forced to wear. It was far too fine, its silken bodice stiff and embroidered with delicate patterns. A proper lady’s gown—something she’d never felt comfortable in.
“Lass?” she heard his dark, all too familiar voice puncture the heated tension in the corridor.
She wanted to face him, but moving felt like such a painful task. The walls shook and started moving inward. Lilith frantically tried to catalog objects around her ground herself, but her vision was too blurry.
Then, a heady, delicious scent tickled her senses, and she knew he was right behind her.
“I’m here.” Damon’s voice was soft and hard all at once. A velvet-wrapped pistol aimed right at her. The heat from his body draped over her back like a heavy blanket.
I ken he’s here, that’s real. Focus, breathe, she repeated to herself as Damon’s presence plucked the anxiety from every bone in her body.
Her breathing slowed as she focused on his calm, even breaths, just inches from her ear.
“Are ye well, lass?” His warm, whiskey-soaked breath caressed her spine.
“Aye,” Lilith said calmly.
“Me Lady?”
But it wasn’t Damon’s voice that pierced through the thick tension, this voice was both foreign and familiar belonging to someone she knew but did not necessarily want.
Stunned by the suddenness of Damon’s absence, Lilith’s eyes shot open, all too aware of the strange seclusion she found herself in.
Was he here at all?
“I’m well, Finley. Just… thinking,” she said, an unanticipated frustration coating her lips before turning to face Finley.
He stood a few paces back, as promised, but confusion was written all over his face. “I try nae to do too much to that. Never ends well.”
“Aye,” she said, the man’s light-hearted comment not quite hitting it’s mark. “I’m goin’ riding,” Lilith added firmly.
Finley didn’t even blink. “In that?”
Lilith scowled. “I willnae let a bit of silk stop me, Finley.”
She threw her skirts behind her as she turned away from him. “Locked stables be damned,” she gritted out as she stormed out of the castle.
To his credit, Finley silently followed her as she made her way to the stables.
The stable hands looked at her in wary surprise as she strode past them, but no one dared question her. She saddled her horse herself, relishing the feel of the leather reins in her hands and the smell of hay and earth.
The moment she mounted her horse, she felt some of the tightness in her chest ease.
She clicked her tongue, urging her horse into a brisk canter, and Finley followed on his mount, silent as ever. She rode past the training yard, past the outer walls of the keep, into the wild stretch of land that had always called to her. The wind whipped at her hair, pulled loose strands free from their pins, and she welcomed it.
She didn’t stop until she reached the garden—her mother’s garden.
It lay tucked behind a thicket of trees, its entrance nearly swallowed by ivy and wild brambles. Most of those who passed would never know it was there, but Lilith did.
She dismounted her horse and stepped inside. “Maither,” she sighed as a warm relief blanketed her.
It had been left untouched by Magnus’s destruction because try as he might, he had never found it, and it was one thing that all of the clansmen had agreed not to divulge.
Her mother’s flowers still bloomed here, bright and defiant. Roses, lilies, violets, and lavender—all thriving in their quiet sanctuary. A small stone bench sat beneath the shade of an old willow, its branches swaying gently in the breeze.
“Willow is mar-marr—” she started to say and laughed unironically, tears threatening to fall from her eyes as she blinked them away. “She’s married now! How exciting!” Her voice hitched.
She ran her fingers over the petals of a white rose, inhaling its delicate scent.
“I’m…” she started again. “I’m also married. It’s all been… exciting .”
She sat on the bench, leaning back against the cool stone, and let her mind drift. The exhaustion of the past few days settled over her as she continued to tell the spirit of her mother everything about her life, heavier than before.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
A sharp nudge against her shoulder startled her awake.
She blinked, disoriented, before Finley’s tense face came into view. He never disturbed her here. Never.
Lilith sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What is it?”
Finley hesitated. His eyes flicked toward the castle in the distance, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
“We need to get back,” he said.
Something is wrong.
Lilith’s heart pounded as she rose. “What’s happened?”
Finley didn’t answer. He only held out his hand to help her onto her horse.
And that, more than anything, told her that whatever waited for her at the keep wasn’t good.