Chapter 6
6
A s she rushed through the castle, Lilith spotted a maid carrying linens down the staircase.
“Where is the Laird?” she demanded loudly.
Her heart was racing with the anxiety of not knowing what was happening—yet again.
The young maid hesitated, clutching the linens tightly to her chest. “The Laird was at the forge, Me Lady.”
“The forge?” Lilith frowned thoughtfully. “What was he doin’ there?”
The maid’s eyes darted to Finley before she dipped her head. “I couldnae say.”
Lilith huffed. She didn’t care what Damon was doing—she cared what was happening. Without another word, she changed course, heading toward the forge.
It was set apart from the main castle, its stone walls stained black from years of smoke and fire. As Lilith approached, she noticed that one of the lads who worked there was standing near the entrance. He stiffened when he saw her.
“The Laird is nae to be disturbed,” he said firmly, stepping into her path.
Lilith raised an eyebrow and explained slowly, careful not to let her frustration take over, “I’m his wife and lady of this clan, laddie. I will decide whether or nae me husband is to be disturbed, all right?”
The boy faltered, clearly conflicted. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Me Lady. The Laird ordered me to ‘tell anyone who comes up ‘ere, but I’m certain now that the order didnae apply to ye.”
Lilith smiled kindly and nodded her head with understanding. “Right ye are, laddie.”
She walked past him and pushed the door open, leaving him and Finley outside.
The heat hit her first, thick and oppressive, carrying the tang of molten metal and sweat. Then, her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, and what she saw made her breath catch.
Damon stood near the forge, his back to her. He was shirtless, the muscles in his shoulders and back gleaming with sweat as he worked. New angry wounds caught her eye first, and her heart clenched with worry.
Has he been injured recently? Are those from the attack that Magnus led?
His dark hair clung to his neck, damp with perspiration. In his hands was a sword, its edge catching the firelight as he ran a whetstone along the blade with slow, deliberate strokes.
Lilith’s stomach clenched next, an unfamiliar heat pooling low in her belly. For a moment, she forgot why she’d come. Her mind wandered unbidden, again , to the memory of his mouth on her neck, the way his lips had grazed her skin on their wedding night. She could still feel the ghost of his breath, warm and teasing, as if he were there again, hovering over her.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, and she forced herself to look away, her cheeks burning.
“Are ye just goin’ to stand there?” Damon’s voice broke through her thoughts, deep and rough from exertion.
He hadn’t turned to her, but she could tell he knew exactly who it was.
Lilith straightened, determined not to let him see her flustered. “I came to ask what’s happenin’ in the castle. But it seems ye have been busy… flexing.”
He turned then, and her breath hitched again. His chest was just as impressive as his back, broad and powerful, the lines of his muscles sharp in the firelight. He wiped a hand across his brow, leaving a streak of soot on his skin.
“I’m maintainin’ the clan’s weapons,” he said simply, his gaze steady on hers. “Where is Finley?”
“That doesnae answer me question, does it?” she said, lifting her chin. “Me shadow is just outside, where I left him.”
Damon set the sword down on the workbench and crossed his arms, the motion making his biceps flex in a way that was entirely unfair. “And what question did ye have for me, lass?”
“What happened last night?” she demanded. “Melissa is gone, the servants are on edge, and now I have Finley trailin’ after me like a shadow. I deserve to be told what’s goin’ on.”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he would refuse to answer. But then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“There was an attack,” he admitted. “It has been dealt with.”
Lilith’s gaze sharpened. “And do ye think that I had somethin’ to do with it?”
The accusation stung, though her tone was calm.
Damon shook his head. “Nay. But I cannae ignore the possibility that someone close to the clan did. Until I ken who was behind it, I’ll be takin’ precautions.”
She studied him for a long moment before nodding, though her vexation was clear. “Then I suggest ye start with yer council or the villagers. Either way, the councilmen are the ones most threatened by yer presence.”
Her words struck a chord, and Damon took a moment to respond to her. His eyes raked over her almost possessively, and he rolled his bottom lip as his intense gaze met hers once more.
“Rest assured, they have been made aware,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll find the one responsible. And when I do, they’ll regret ever steppin’ foot in this castle.”
Lilith’s gaze softened slightly, though her expression remained guarded. “Good. I’d hate for our marriage to end in tragedy so soon, husband.”
A faint smirk tugged at Damon’s lips despite the tension. “I’ll see to it that it doesnae. Wife.”
She studied him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the flicker of something dark in his eyes. This wasn’t just about the attack—this was personal.
“And Melissa?” she asked quietly.
“I sent her away,” Damon replied. “It’s nae safe for her here.”
Her chest tightened. He chose to send Melissa away for her safety, but he had made the conscious choice not to send his new wife away. They certainly didn’t know each other well enough yet, but Lilith’s chest only tightened further at the thought that he may not have considered her worth protecting.
“And what about me?” she asked, her voice soft but steady. “What about me safety?”
Damon’s eyes bored into hers, and for a moment, the intense look in them made her forget to breathe. “Ye belong here. That’s why Finley’s with ye,” he said. “He’ll nae leave yer side.”
Lilith bristled. “I dinnae even get a choice? What I need is?—”
“Nae,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “What ye need is someone to make sure that ye arenae caught off guard by a blade in the dark.”
Her breath hitched as he loomed over her, the heat of him almost as overwhelming as the heat in the forge. She refused to back down, holding his gaze with as much defiance as she could muster.
Is that what happened? Why is he nae tellin’ me everything?
“Next time, tell me what’s happenin’ in me own home,” she huffed. “I’m nae a child, Damon. I can handle the truth.”
His expression softened just a fraction, and he nodded. “Aye. Ye can.”
“And I ken well enough that ye arenae tellin’ me the whole truth. I deserve to ken more than me own servants.”
“Aye, we’ll talk more tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Damon’s eyes landed on her lips, and for a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. Their bodies and mouths were too close for any respectful conversation to continue.
The pull that Lilith felt beneath her navel was almost excruciating, and she knew that Damon was the only one who could relieve her of the discomfort.
But then he stepped back, breaking the spell.
“Go back to the castle,” he urged, his tone firm but not unkind. “I’ll join ye shortly for our first night together. Unless ye wish to go back on yer word, wife?”
Lilith hesitated, reminded of the deal they had made, torn between wanting to press him further and knowing she’d gotten all she could for now.
Finally, she turned and left, her thoughts a tangled mess. “I’ll see ye tonight, husband.”
As she walked back to the castle, Finley following at a respectful distance behind, she couldn’t shake the image of Damon in the forge, the firelight dancing across his skin. Nor could she forget the way he’d looked at her, as if he saw more than just the woman he’d married out of duty.
What are ye doin’ to me, Damon Aragain?
She didn’t have an answer, but as the day wore on, she found herself thinking back to that moment over and over again, the memory of his mouth on her neck intertwining with the sight of him in the forge, until she could no longer deny the truth: Damon was more than a husband. He was a force—one she wasn’t sure she could resist.
And for the first time, Lilith wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Hours later, the fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over Lilith’s chambers, but the warmth did little to ease the restless energy inside her. She paced back and forth, her bare feet silent against the worn rug. Her nerves were fraying. Damon would be there any moment.
When he mentioned that he’d join her for their first night together, she didn’t ask any clarifying questions, and now the undeniable sense of anxiety crashed into her like a relentless wave.
“Ye could have at least had the sense to ask what time, ye daft fool…”
Her stomach twisted at the thought of him being in her chambers soon. Not because of fear—no, that would have been simpler—but because of everything else he made her feel. She still couldn’t shake the image of him shirtless in the forge, the muscles in his back shifting like those of a predator in action. It was maddening, the way her mind kept dredging up that memory, and even more maddening that he’d acted as if nothing had happened.
She paused by the window, gripping the sill. “Get it together,” she muttered to herself.
Tonight was not going to be as he had planned. It also wasn’t about his shoulders, his arms, or the way his voice made her skin tingle. Tonight, she was going to get the answers to her unanswered questions.
A knock at the door startled her. She spun around, her pulse quickening as Damon strode in without waiting for permission.
Typical.
“Good evening, wife,” he said, his voice smooth and annoyingly self-assured.
He had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two glasses in the other.
Lilith arched an eyebrow. “What’s this? An apology?”
“Hardly.” He placed the glasses on the table and pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to sit. “It’s a game. I thought we could have a bit of fun on our first night.”
“A game?” she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.
“A drinking game,” he clarified, pouring the amber liquid into both glasses. “We’ll take turns askin’ each other questions. If ye dinnae wish to answer, ye take a drink.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And if I refuse to play?”
“Then I drink alone, and ye miss out on the chance to interrogate me properly.”
His lips quirked in that infuriating half-smile of his, and Lilith felt her resolve waver.
“Fine,” she said, lowering herself into the chair opposite him. “But dinnae think ye will get away without answerin’ me questions this time.”
“We’ll see.” He slid a glass toward her, lifting his own. “Shall we begin?”
Lilith picked up her glass, eyeing him warily. “Ye first.”
Damon leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment before asking, “Who do ye trust most in this castle?”
The question caught her off guard. “That’s… unexpected.”
“I thought I’d start with somethin’ easy.”
Lilith hesitated, her fingers brushing the rim of her glass. “Ariah Morris.”
“Sebastian’s kin?”
“Aye. She’s his daughter and me most trusted friend.”
Damon nodded thoughtfully. “Very well, ye go now.”
“Are the scars on yer back and side from the attack or from before?”
“I have several scars, which are ye askin’ about?”
“Obviously, I’m askin’ about the new ones, which Mrs. Bryant undoubtedly mended. I can spot her handiwork from a mile away.”
He smirked again, which only increased her frustration, as he not only answered simply, “Aye,” but also took a swig from his glass.
“Aye?”
“It’s me turn now. Ye have already asked yer question.”
“But ye didnae answer it!”
“I’m nay liar, Lilith. I answered ‘Aye,’ confirming what ye already ken. If ye wish to have a different answer, ask a different question. Now, it’s me turn.”
Lilith scoffed and leaned back in her chair, almost pouting, her eyes never leaving his.
“Who would ye suggest as a man-at-arms?”
The question surprised her.
“Finley,” she said finally. “He’s loyal, and he doesnae play games like the rest of them.”
Damon’s eyebrow rose. “Finley? He’s gettin’ on in years.”
“True, but he’s still sharp,” she countered. “If nae Finley, then Ryder.”
“Ryder?” Damon repeated, leaning forward.
“Ryder Gordon. He was around during our childhood. He lives in a nearby village now. Didnae like the way Magnus handled things, so he left.” Lilith paused, meeting his gaze. “He’s a good man, Damon. And his lineage… well, Magnus kept him around for a reason.”
Damon’s expression turned thoughtful, and she felt a flicker of surprise. He was actually listening to her.
“Yer turn,” he said after a moment.
“What sort of attack was it? An ambush? Could another clan have an issue with ours?” she asked quickly, the second question spilling out unintentionally.
Damon’s jaw tightened. He took a long sip of his whiskey instead of answering.
“That’s nae an answer,” she huffed, her frustration bubbling to the surface.
“It’s the rules of the game,” he pointed out, setting his glass down with a thud. “ And ye asked more than one question.”
Lilith huffed.
“Me turn,” Damon said, pouring more whiskey into his glass until it reached the brim. “What is Ryder Gordon’s lineage?”
“He’s Laird McKenzie’s banished son.”
A light flashed in Damon’s eyes, one mixed with understanding and something else entirely. She recognized the look on his face—he was strategizing.
“He used to live with us, and he is very protective of Willow and me. If word has yet to reach Branloch about the attack, I’m sure it will soon, and ye will hear from him,” Lilith added smugly.
“Branloch is the nearest village?”
“Aye.”
“Well then, I look forward to meetin’ him, when it comes time.”
Lilith emptied her glass and let Damon refill it as she asked her next question. “Why did ye search the people in the castle? Do ye suspect someone?”
Damon simply took another drink.
“Ye are infuriating,” she muttered, taking a sip of her drink just to keep her hands occupied. The whiskey burned her throat, but she welcomed the distraction.
Damon smirked. “It’s me turn again.”
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“What would ye have done if ye were in me place?” he asked, his tone serious now.
Lilith blinked, caught off guard again. “Ye mean during the attack?”
“Aye.”
She bit her lip, considering her answer. “Well, seein’ as I dinnae ken much about the nature of the attack, I guess that I would have made sure that everyone in the castle was accounted for. Protected. And I wouldnae have kept secrets from me wife.” She gave him a pointed look.
Damon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made her toes curl. “Fair enough.”
“Why did ye really send Melissa away? It wasnae just for her safety, or ye would have sent me along with her. So, tell me why,” Lilith pressed.
Damon hesitated, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass. For a moment, she thought he would answer, but then he took another drink.
Lilith threw up her hands. “Ye are impossible!”
“And ye are relentless,” he countered, his eyes glinting with amusement.
She glared at him, though she couldn’t entirely hide the smile tugging at her lips. Despite herself, she was enjoying this—his banter, his infuriating charm.
“My turn,” he said, his voice softening. “What’s yer opinion on all this?”
“On what?”
“The attack. The castle. The people here. Truly.”
Lilith hesitated, her gaze dropping to her glass. “I dinnae ken,” she admitted. “But I do ken well that this tension, this secrecy… it’s tearin’ everyone apart.” She looked up at him, her voice steady. “Ye need to be transparent with them, Damon. And with me. It’s causin’ a divide.”
His expression softened. For a moment, she thought she saw something vulnerable in his eyes, and it instantly made her heart rate quicken. But then he straightened, the mask slipping back into place, and she let out an audible sigh.
“It’s late,” he uttered, rising abruptly.
Lilith frowned. “Ye are leavin’?”
“Nae yet. It’s me turn.” He reached for a book on the table, flipping it open before she could stop him.
“Nay!” She snatched it away, clutching it to her chest.
Damon raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“It’s… it was me maither’s,” she said, her voice quieter now. “She loved flowers. This was her press book. Now, it’s mine.”
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching. “Ye miss her.”
Lilith swallowed hard, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Aye.”
Damon seemed ready to ask more questions, but she shook her head. “I dinnae wish to talk about it.”
He nodded, surprising her with his understanding. “Fair enough.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Then, Damon picked up the whiskey bottle and poured them each another drink. Her earlier frustration softened by the buzz of the drink and the steady warmth radiating from the hearth.
For all her irritation, there was something oddly comforting about this moment.
Damon, however, wasn’t done. He leaned forward, his intense eyes locking onto hers. “Tell me about Willow.”
Is it his turn or mine?
Lilith froze, the unexpected question striking her like a lightning bolt. “Why do ye ask about me sister?”
“Because she’s important to ye,” he answered simply. “And I’d like to ken why.”
Lilith swallowed, unsure how to answer. Memories of Willow came rushing back—her bright laughter, the way she could charm even the sternest elders of their clan, and how fiercely she had protected Lilith when they were children.
“Aside from the fact that she’s me twin… She is the best of us.” She sighed. “Bold, fearless. She has this… way of makin’ everyone around her feel seen.”
Damon studied her, his expression unreadable. “Do ye miss her?”
Lilith’s throat tightened, and she glanced down at her hands. “I do.”
“I’m sorry,” Damon said, his voice low and sincere. “Keegan is the best of us too, if it helps. They’re a strong match.”
Lilith nodded, blinking away the sudden tears. “She’d probably tell me to stop lettin’ ye walk all over me.”
A genuine smile tugged at Damon’s lips. “I doubt anyone could walk over ye, Lilith.”
She let out a soft laugh, though her heart still ached for her sister again.
“Yer turn,” Damon said as he leaned back, stretching out his long legs in front of him.
“How long will Finley be shadowing me?” Lilith asked.
His smile widened. “Until I am sure ye’re safe.”
Lilith groaned. “So forever, then?”
“He’s doin’ his job.” Damon shrugged. “And ye’ll thank me if he keeps ye alive.”
“Alive, yes. Sane? That’s another matter entirely.”
Damon chuckled, and for a moment, the tension between them seemed to ease. But then his expression turned serious again, and Lilith braced herself.
“One last question,” he said, his voice quieter now. “What’s the worst thing Magnus ever did to ye?”
The air seemed to grow still, the weight of his words pressing down on her. Her hand tightened around her glass. She knew he was asking out of more than curiosity—there was genuine concern in his eyes, a protectiveness she hadn’t expected.
But she couldn’t answer. She wouldn’t.
Without a word, she lifted her glass and took a long sip of whiskey.
When she set it down, Damon’s expression was a storm of emotions—anger, frustration, and something deeper, more primal. His jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped his glass. For a moment, Lilith thought he might explode, but then he exhaled sharply, reining himself in.
“Fair enough,” he allowed, his voice tight. “But if ye ever decide to tell me, I’ll listen.”
Lilith nodded, her chest tight with a mix of gratitude and guilt. She didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on her, as if he were silently vowing to protect her from whatever ghosts haunted her past.
The fire crackled, filling the silence between them.
Lilith looked away, unable to meet his eyes any longer. She wasn’t ready to let him in—not yet.
“To honesty,” he said, raising his glass.
Lilith hesitated, then clinked her glass against his. “To honesty,” she echoed, even as she wondered if either of them would ever truly embrace it.
They drank in silence, the fire crackling in the background, and for the first time in days, Lilith felt a flicker of hope.
Damon rose from the table after finishing his glass. “I will be leavin’ this week. I must see to the borders with the men. Finley will stay here with ye. I trust ye to deal with the staff—ye ken them all well.”
Lilith nodded her head absentmindedly, not taking her eyes off the smoldering fire.
He left her chambers shortly after. His intoxicating scent lingered in the room, leaving her in a haze as she drifted off to sleep.