Taken By the Vicious Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #5)

Chapter 8

8

“ I t’s going to be dangerous, lass,” he barked over his shoulder, in an obvious attempt to convincer her to stay before they got to the courtyard.

“I’m comin’ with ye,” she stated firmly. Her skirts swished around her legs as she quickened her pace.

“Ye should stay here,” Damon urged as he stretched his steps further and further apart, but she only increased her pace to match.

“Ach, forgive me, Me Laird . I didnae realize me husband’s idea of marriage was to order me around.”

Damon glanced to her, his blue eyes sharp with irritation. “Dinnae make this more difficult than it already is.”

“Ye are the one makin’ it difficult,” she shot back, her cheeks flushed as much from anger as from the exertion of keeping up with him. “Ye cannae seriously expect me to stay behind while ye run off to God kens what kind of danger.”

“Exactly,” he said, rounding a corner. “Because it’s dangerous.”

“Precisely why I need to come with ye,” Lilith argued, her voice rising slightly as her boots thudded against the stone floor. “These are me people, Damon. They trust me.”

He let out a low, exasperated sigh as they neared the Great Hall. “They dinnae trust me. Ye think draggin’ ye into the middle of a fight and puttin’ ye in danger will make them trust me more?”

“If anything, I will be draggin’ ye ,” she quipped, lifting her chin. “Ye might be their Laird, and they’ll listen to ye, but I’m the one they’ll actually hear .”

A hint of a smile spread across his lips, though his expression remained firm. “Ye certainly think highly of yerself, do ye nae?”

Lilith stopped in her tracks, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “And ye clearly think very little of me if ye believe I’ll just stand by and twiddle me thumbs while ye go gallopin’ off to save the day.”

Damon halted as well, turning to face her fully. His towering frame cast a shadow over her, but she didn’t flinch. If anything, her spine straightened further. Heat throbbed low between her hips as images of their kiss flashed in her mind’s eye.

“This isnae about what ye want, lass,” he said, his voice low and rough. “It’s only about keepin’ ye safe.”

“Ach, spare me,” she snapped, swiping her hand through the air between them, then stepping closer to jab a finger in his chest. “Ye dinnae get to decide what’s best for me. I’m yer wife, not yer?—”

The word ‘daughter’ died in her throat as she recalled their discussion about heirs.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her defiance. “Ye are also the one who will be in the way if things go wrong.”

“In the way?” she repeated, her voice dripping with incredulity. “If anything, I’ll be the one keepin’ things from goin’ wrong. Ye’re new here, Damon. Ye dinnae ken these people like I do.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might argue further. But then, to her surprise, he let out a resigned sigh and shook his head.

“Fine,” he muttered, turning back toward the corridor. “Come along, then. But dinnae blame me when ye regret it.”

Lilith blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his abrupt concession. “That’s it?” she asked, hurrying to catch up with him.

“What?” he said over his shoulder. “Did ye want me to continue arguin’ with ye?”

“Well, nay, but I expected a bit more resistance,” she admitted, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “It was almost too easy…”

He shot her a sidelong glance, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk. “Maybe I’m savin’ me energy. I’ll need it to keep ye out of trouble out there.”

Lilith rolled her eyes, though a small part of her was oddly pleased by his teasing tone. “Oh, how thoughtful of ye,” she said dryly. “Tell me, Damon, do ye always underestimate the women in yer life, or am I just special?”

“Special,” he said without hesitation, though his tone was laced with sarcasm. “And infuriating.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her, releasing the tension coiled tight in her core. “If I’m infuriating, it’s just because ye’re nae as smart as me. Ye brute,” she teased.

“Brute?” he echoed, glancing back at her as they descended the stairs and hurried toward the stables. “Is that yer idea of a compliment?”

“It’s more generous than what I could have said,” she retorted, lifting her chin.

He chuckled, the sound deep and surprisingly warm. “I’ll take it.”

By the time they reached the stables, Lilith was both flustered and oddly exhilarated. The tension between them was electric, crackling like a storm on the horizon. Damon barked orders at the stable hands to prepare the horses, his tone businesslike once more. But when he turned back to her, his blue eyes softened slightly.

“Ye’ll stay close,” he instructed, his voice quieter but no less firm. “Nay wanderin’ off. Nay takin’ risks. And if I tell ye to do something, ye do it. Understood?”

Lilith arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sweet but pointed smile. “Of course, Me Laird.”

His gaze lingered on her, searching, as though he didn’t entirely trust her. “I mean it, Lilith.”

“And I heard ye the first time,” she said lightly, brushing past him to check the saddle on her horse. “But dinnae fash—I have nay intention of gettin’ meself killed. That would ruin yer day, would it nae?”

“More than ye ken,” he muttered under his breath.

But she caught the words and felt an unexpected flutter in her chest.

As they mounted their horses, Damon cast a final, warning glance at her. “Try to keep up.”

Lilith smirked, gripping the reins with confidence. “I should be sayin’ that to ye.”

His lips twitched in amusement, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he spurred his horse forward, leading the way out of the castle gates. Lilith followed close behind, her pulse quickening as the wind whipped through her hair.

The ride to Branloch was brisk, the wind nipping her cheeks as the night deepened. Her mind raced, and worry gnawed at her as she thought of the attack and Ryder. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, and while he was more than capable of taking care of himself, the idea of brigands attacking the village turned her stomach.

Damon glanced at her as they rode, his brow furrowed. “Ye’re quiet.”

“Dinnae get used to it,” she muttered, keeping her gaze on the darkened path ahead.

He smirked faintly. “Ye’re worried?”

She hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. “Ryder.”

His expression shifted slightly, his interest piqued. “The same Ryder ye suggested as man-at-arms?”

“Aye.” Her tone was clipped. “He’s a good man. Loyal. If there’s trouble in the village, he’ll be the first to stand against it.”

Damon was quiet for a moment, his focus turning back to the road. “We’ll find him,” he said finally, his voice softer than she had expected.

The village came into view minutes later, and Lilith’s heart sank at the sight of it. Smoke still lingered in the air, curling up from charred wood. Villagers moved about with frantic energy, dousing smoldering embers and checking on livestock.

As soon as they dismounted, Lilith felt the tension in the air shift. Eyes turned to them, wary and uncertain. She could see it in their expressions—the suspicion, the fear. Damon stood tall, his presence commanding as always, but it was clear that his arrival did little to ease their concerns.

She stepped forward before he could speak, her voice clear and steady. “What happened here?”

One of the villagers, Cameron, stepped forward hesitantly. He was a broad-shouldered man with graying hair, his face lined with worry.

Lilith leaned toward Damon’s ear to let him know who the man was before he started speaking. “Cameron Torranach is the Branloch village leader.”

“Brigands,” Cameron said, his voice rough. “Came out of nowhere. We fought them off, but…” he trailed off, his gaze flicking to Damon before returning to Lilith. “It wasnae easy.”

Lilith nodded, glancing around.

Damon spoke next. “Is everyone accounted for?”

Cameron hesitated again, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Ryder. He’s hurt.”

Lilith’s stomach clenched.

Ryder?

As if sensing her unease, Damon asked firmly, “Where is the man? Who can take us to him?”

“He is just there, at Kelly Cottage,” Cameron replied, pointing to a road leading out of the village.

Lilith moved first, and Damon followed her, as did most of the villagers.

As they walked, Lilith couldn’t help but notice the way the other villagers looked at Damon—some with open mistrust, others with thinly veiled anger.

“They blame ye,” she murmured to him.

He didn’t look at her, his jaw tight. “I can see that.”

Lilith stopped suddenly, turning to face him. “Let me help.”

He furrowed his brow. “What are ye talkin’ about?”

“They trust me,” she said, her voice low. “Let me say something.”

For a moment, Damon looked like he might argue, but then he gave a curt nod. “Fine, if ye think it’ll help. But make it quick.”

She stepped forward, raising her voice so that the nearby villagers could hear. “Listen to me,” she began, her tone firm. “I ken ye’re scared. I ken ye’re angry. But Laird McCallum and I are here to help. Our Laird has provided everything ye need, and he will make sure ye are safe.”

“Aye,” Damon said, stepping up to meet her, his arm wrapping around her waist. “Mrs. Bryant is here with two other healers. And Finley is leadin’ the efforts with some of the other guards from the Keep to help rebuild. More help is on the way. Smith has ordered the kitchen maids to make pastries. They’ll be here first thing in the morning. Ye shouldnae fash about anythin’ tonight. Just each other. Let us help ye take care of the rest.”

There was a murmur of uncertainty among the crowd, but Lilith pressed on.

“I’ve kenned ye all me life.” Her gaze swept over the familiar faces. “Trust me now as ye always have.”

Slowly, the tension began to ease.

Cameron nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank ye, Me Lady. Me Laird.”

Damon’s gaze lingered on her for a moment and she thought she saw a flicker of admiration in his eyes, but then let out a breathy chuckle of relief to ease the tension.

One villager down, only about a hundred to go…

The tension in the air was almost suffocating. Damon didn’t need to hear the whispers to sense the villagers’ unease. The looks they gave him—quick glances, narrowed eyes, lips pressed tight—spoke volumes.

They dinnae trust me. Nae yet. Perhaps nae ever.

Lilith walked a few steps ahead of him, her back straight, her head held high. The copper tones in her hair caught the torchlight, and for a moment, he was struck by how at ease she seemed amid their suspicion. She wasn’t trying to win their trust—she already had it. And the fact that her presence alone softened their gazes niggled at him in ways he wasn’t prepared to ponder.

“This is Branloch,” she said, her voice cutting through his thoughts. She gestured toward the modest homes and workshops that made up the village. “These people have endured more than ye can imagine.”

“And ye think I dinnae ken hardship?” he asked, his tone sharper than he had intended.

Lilith glanced back at him, her lips curling into something between a smirk and a scowl. “Och, I’m sure ye have endured plenty. But that doesnae mean they’ll take kindly to ye until ye prove yerself.”

Damon didn’t respond, his gaze sweeping over the village. Smoke lingered in the air, the remnants of the attack still fresh. Damaged fences, scattered belongings, the occasional streak of blood on the cobblestones—it painted a grim picture. But what struck him most was the way the villagers moved, their steps purposeful despite their weariness. These weren’t people who gave up easily.

A woman approached them, her face lined with worry, soot smudged across her apron. “Me Lady,” she greeted, dipping into a quick curtsy. Her gaze flicked to Damon, and her mouth tightened. “Laird McCallum.”

“Emma,” Lilith returned warmly. “Are ye all right? Were ye hurt?”

Emma shook her head. “Nay, me boys and I are fine, thanks to the men who fought them off. But it was close. Too close.”

Damon stepped forward, his voice steady. “I’m sorry this happened. I’ve brought men and supplies to help repair the damage. And if there’s anyone still in need of attention, I’ve brought healers as well.”

Emma’s eyes darted to him, her expression cautious. “That’s… kind of ye, Me Laird. Thank ye.”

Damon inclined his head, resisting the urge to press further. He’d learned long ago that trust couldn’t be forced. Still, the wariness in her eyes grated at him.

“He means it,” Lilith said suddenly, her voice carrying a note of conviction. “Laird McCallum may nae be who ye expected, Emma, but he is here to help. And he’s brought more than words. He brought action .”

Emma hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Thank ye,” she said again, her voice softer this time.

As they moved on, Damon glanced at Lilith. “Ye didnae have to do that.”

She arched an eyebrow. “What? Speak the truth?”

“Ye didnae have to vouch for me,” he clarified. “Nae when ye’re still unsure of me.”

Lilith’s lips curled into a faint smile. “True. But it’s nae about me, is it? It’s about them. Emma runs the inn. Her three sons are a part of the clan army—they report directly to Finley on the border.”

Damon didn’t respond, though her words lingered in his mind as they continued through the village.

They arrived shortly at the blacksmith’s forge, where they were met by a burly man with dark hair and soot-streaked skin. His arms, thick with muscles, were crossed over his chest as he watched them approach.

“Hunter,” Lilith greeted, her tone light despite the tension in the air. “Still scarin’ the children, I see.”

Hunter?

The man’s stern face broke into a grin. “Only the ones who try to steal from me.” His gaze shifted to Damon, and his grin faded. “Me Laird. We havenae met. Hunter Parrish.”

He looks familiar, but where did I see him before? Is he related to the assassin?

“Good to ken ye,” Damon offered, meeting his eyes evenly.

Hunter studied him for a moment, then gave a short nod. “Well, if ye’re here to help, I willnae turn ye away. But dinnae think for a second that we’ll bow and scrape just because ye have taken Magnus’s place.”

Lilith cleared her throat. “Hunter works the forge with Fionn, who I’m guessin’ ye met earlier.”

Images of the burly, blonde-haired warrior working the forge earlier that morning flashed through Damon’s mind, and he nodded slowly. “Aye, we are acquainted.”

Maybe nae related to the assassin, but a strong Magnus supporter.

Lilith laughed softly. “Dinnae fash, Hunter. Our Laird kens better than to expect that.”

Damon shot her a look, but she only smirked, clearly enjoying herself. He turned back to Hunter. “I dinnae need yer loyalty handed to me. I’ll earn it.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of respect in them. “Aye.”

As they moved on, Damon felt the weight of Lilith’s gaze on him.

“What?” he asked, glancing at her.

“Nothin’,” she said innocently. “It’s just refreshing nae to see ye barkin’ orders for once.”

“Careful,” he warned, though there was no heat in his tone. “Ye’re dangerously close to testin’ me patience.”

“Ach, I wouldnae dream of it,” she drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

The next stop was the stables, where the farrier, Alain, was tending to a horse with a gash along its flank.

Alain was an older man, his hair streaked with gray and his hands rough from years of work. His wife and two young daughters worked quietly nearby, their faces etched with worry.

“Me Laird. Me Lady,” he greeted, his voice tired but polite. “What brings ye to the stables?”

“Alain. Mrs. Bird. We’re checkin’ on everyone,” Lilith said, her gaze softening as she looked at the injured horse. “What happened here?”

“Brigands spooked the livestock,” Alain explained. “This one got caught in a broken fence. She’ll heal, but it’ll take time.”

Damon stepped forward, his expression serious. “I’ll send more men to patrol the area. And I’ll make sure ye have what ye need to repair the fences.”

Alain nodded slowly. “That’d be much appreciated, Me Laird.”

Lilith crouched beside the horse, her movements careful as she inspected its wound. “I’ll bring some salve for her tomorrow from our stables,” she said. “It’ll help with the healing.”

Damon watched her, surprised by her ease with the animal. “Ye ken yer way around a stable,” he remarked.

She glanced up at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. “What? Did ye think I spent me childhood loungin’ in the keep?”

“I wouldnae have blamed ye,” he said with a shrug. “It’s more than most would’ve done.”

Her smile faded slightly, and she turned her attention back to the horse. “I wasnae given much choice,” she murmured quietly.

Damon opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Alain spoke again. “Thank ye, Me Lady. And ye too, Me Laird.”

The gratitude in his voice was genuine, and Damon felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this wasn’t a lost cause, after all.

As the evening dragged on, they met with more villagers, each interaction revealing more about the people under his care—and more about Lilith.

She knew their names, their families, their struggles. She listened to their stories with a patience and kindness that left him both impressed and envious.

The woman was everything he wasn’t: warm, approachable, trusted. And yet, despite their differences, he couldn’t deny the way they balanced each other.

As they left the last cottage, Lilith glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. “Ye handled that well.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment?”

“Dinnae let it go to yer head,” she scoffed, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

He couldn’t help but grin. “Too late.”

“How do ye ken all of this? All of them?” he asked as they walked back toward the center of Branloch.

She shrugged. “I spent a lot of time here as a child. Ryder, Willow, and I used to run wild through the village.”

Both of them stopped walking at the same time. Damon remained silent, giving her the space she needed to share whatever was on her mind.

Lilith spoke as if she was a great distance away from him, the memory taking over her features. “There was one time, right there…” She pointed toward a steep hill behind the well. “Magnus threw one of our maither’s barrettes down that well. He had challenged Ryder, Willow, and me to a downhill race. Willow had lost it on the way down, but she beat him. Magnus had found it. He knew that she cherished it deeply—she wore it almost every single day.”

She laughed sadly before continuing. “After Ryder and Willow ran back into the village gloatin’, he made me stay and watch him do it. He threatened to tell Willow that I did it and that he would burn all of me dresses if I didnae keep the secret from her. It caused a huge rift between her and me, even now.”

Her large hazel eyes danced in the torchlight as they met Damon’s. “I still havenae told her.”

Damon remained silent. He didn’t press her, sensing that this was a sore subject.

“Her precious pearled red barrette, gone forever. Ryder helped me search for it for months. We even sent one of Emma’s sons down there.” She chuckled at the memory, and he watched as tears filled the corners of her eyes. “It was a mess—he got stuck down there for hours!”

Her laugh grew louder, and it tugged at his lips.

“Ye dinnae like secrets,” he said. It was more of a statement than a question.

She glanced at him, her smile dimming slightly. “Nay, I despise them.”

He nodded, filing away the information. “I understand,” he said, his gaze lingering on her face. “Ye’re different than I expected,” he admitted, pulling her away from the memory.

She frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“It’s an observation,” he said, his voice softening. “But if it makes ye feel better, then aye, it’s a compliment.”

For the first time, she smiled at him—a real smile, not the forced ones she gave out of duty. It caught him off guard, and before he could think better of it, he reached out, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip.

“I need to do a better job at gettin’ ye to smile more,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a possessive growl. “It suits ye.”

She flushed, stepping back slightly. “Dinnae push yer luck.”

He chuckled, but his amusement faded as he noticed the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Lilith,” he said quietly. “Thank ye.”

She looked at him, surprised. “For what?”

“For sharin’ that,” he said simply.

She didn’t respond, but the warmth in her eyes was answer enough.

By the time they returned to the village square, Damon was more exhausted than he cared to admit. But Lilith didn’t seem ready to call it a night.

She turned to him, her expression earnest.“We need to check on Ryder.”

He hesitated, studying her face. The worry in her eyes was unmistakable, and despite himself, he found he couldn’t deny her.

“Aye,” he agreed. “Let’s go then, lass.”

Her relief was palpable, and for the first time that night, she smiled at him. A real smile, soft and genuine. And damn if it didn’t make his chest tighten.