Chapter 11
11
D amon lumbered into the inn as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, bathing Branloch in a pale golden glow. Exhaustion weighed on him like a millstone, but his steps remained steady, resolute.
Finley was already inside. He had joined them in the fray around the time when Damon was wounded.
Of course, Ryder was able to make it. It’s probably why Mrs. Bryant is here in the inn…
He glanced up the steps before he rounded the corner to the main area of the inn.
“Me Laird,” Emma greeted and ushered him into the hall. “Mrs. Bryant will be wishing to see ya, then.”
The smell of roasted oats and fresh bread wafted through the inn’s common room as he let the woman lead him inside the dining space.
Mrs. Bryant bustled about with practiced efficiency, tending to wounded men who had come in before him. They were sprawled on benches and makeshift pallets, most of them sleeping. She glanced up as Damon entered, her stern eyes softening at the sight of him.
His back ached from the fresh gash that had been hastily bandaged right after the battle. The blood had dried, making the fabric of his shirt stiff against his skin. He knew he needed proper care before his wound got infected.
“Ye look like hell, Me Laird,” Mrs. Bryant remarked, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached him. “Sit down before ye catch yer death.”
Death?
Damon smirked but didn’t argue. He sank onto a bench near the hearth, every muscle in his body protesting the movement.
“Can ye make it quick?” he said, his voice gravelly from lack of sleep. “I’ve got someone waitin’ upstairs.”
Mrs. Bryant gave him a knowing look, her hands already unfastening the stained bandages on his back. “Lady McCallum has been worried sick all night. She went back upstairs about an hour or so before ye returned.”
Damon furrowed his brow. “She didnae sleep?”
“She’s up there now—asleep in the armchair, last I checked,” Mrs. Bryant said, her tone scolding as she inspected his wound. “This needs to be cleaned and sewn near the top—it’s deepest there. Sit still, Me Laird. I’ll get this done in nay time.”
Damon hissed through his teeth as she dabbed at the gash with a cloth soaked in what he assumed was some sort of spirit. The sting shot through his body, but he clenched his jaw and bore it.
Mrs. Bryant was quick and efficient, her hands steady as she wrapped clean bandages around his torso and his shoulder.
“There. That’ll hold for now. But ye’ll need rest, Me Laird,” she advised, patting his shoulder with an almost motherly touch. “And maybe a moment with Lady McCallum will do ye good, but ye need sleep. Ye hear?”
Damon nodded his thanks and stood up, the effort sending a wave of dizziness through him. He steadied himself and made his way upstairs to their room.
“Water, as well. I’ll send some up for ye.”
The door creaked as he pushed it open, and his eyes immediately landed on Lilith. She was curled up in the armchair by the fire, her head resting against the high back, the soft glow of the dying embers casting shadows on her face.
She looked peaceful, her blonde hair hanging around her shoulders, but his chest tightened at the sight.
She’d stayed up. Waitin’ for me.
Quietly, he stepped inside and set his sword belt on the table. His body betrayed his attempt at stealth, however, as his knife slipped from its sheath and clattered loudly to the floor.
Lilith stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked a few times before her gaze focused on him.
“Damon?” Her voice was groggy but sharp with concern. “Ye’re back, and…” A flush spread up her neck. “Wh-Where’s yer tunic?”
He sighed, too tired to explain, and instead turned his back to her, letting her see the bandages. Her sharp intake of breath told him enough.
“Damon! Oh gosh, ye’re hurt!” she exclaimed, rising from the chair and crossing toward him. Her hands hovered over his back, fluttering manically, as though she wasn’t sure where to touch him. “Why didnae ye tell me? Sit down, Damon! Sit!”
“I’m fine, lass,” he murmured, though his legs wobbled, betraying him.
He barely had time to hear her gasp before he staggered forward, caught in the grips of exhaustion.
Lilith moved quickly, guiding him toward the bed. “Ye stubborn fool,” she muttered. “Ye cannae just ignore an injury like that.”
“I didnae ignore it. Ye can see that Mrs. Bryant fixed me up right. But I need sleep, lass. And so do ye.” He pointed toward the chair. “Dinnae think I didnae gather that ye were up all night as well.”
“Says the half-naked, bleeding man?—”
He sighed and let her fuss over him, too tired to resist her demands.
She could ask me for anythin’ and I’d give it just to get closer to the bed…
“Come.”
Her demand left little room for argument, so he followed her around the bed and let her ease him onto the edge.
She lifted his leg and put his heel on her thigh before she untied his boots and tugged them off, her hands gentle but efficient. Her fingers brushed against his bare back as she knelt between his knees and moved to unfasten his belt. His eyes did not miss a single movement, and when she glanced up at him, his lips curled into a smirk despite his fatigue.
She eyed her surroundings before letting her eyes land on his thighs in front of her. He squeezed her sides gently before relaxing his legs.
“Tired?”
“Exhausted,” he said, that smirk still on his face.
“Aye, me too. Ryder?”
“He’s still outside the door,” he answered. “Ye can rest in the bed wit’ me, lass. I willnae bite—” He broke off. “I’ll be on me stomach anyway.”
Her eyes rose only slightly to his exposed abdomen and then met his once more. “I’ll need yer help for this,” she said, gripping the top hem of his trews more firmly.
He only grunted in response while they fought each other to get his trews off.
Almost naked in front of her, he now had the added challenge of not letting his desire for her show.
He cleared his throat as she used his knees to push herself to her feet and watched as she gathered the clothes pooled at his feet.
“I owe ye answers, lass,” he said, his voice low. “Just give me a moment.”
Lilith paused, her expression softening as she met his gaze. “I’ll be here when ye wake up,” she promised.
He felt the weight of her words settle over him like a blanket, and as his face hit the pillow, sleep claimed him before he could respond.
When he woke up, sunlight streamed through the window, bathing the room in warm light. He sat up abruptly, his hand instinctively going to his side. The bandages held firm, though his wound throbbed. His gaze flicked to the armchair, where Lilith sat reading a book, her legs tucked beneath her.
“Ye’re awake,” she said, closing the book and setting it aside. A smile tugged at her lips. “Ye snore, ye ken.”
“Do I now?” he replied, his voice still rough with sleep. He stretched, wincing slightly at the pull on his back. “How long was I out?”
“Long enough,” she teased, rising to her feet. “I had them bring up a bathtub for ye. Thought ye might appreciate it.”
Damon arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing grin. “Are ye offerin’ to help me again, lass?”
Lilith flushed, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. “Hardly,” she shot back, her tone sharp but lacking heat. “But if ye need it, I suppose…”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll manage, lass. Ye’d just get distracted anyway.”
She huffed, rolling her eyes as she turned toward the door. “I’ll leave ye to it, then. Try nae to drown.”
Damon watched her go, his grin fading as his thoughts turned inward. She’d been there when he needed her, unwavering in her concern. It was a side of her he hadn’t expected, and it left him feeling… something he couldn’t quite name.
After cleaning up, Damon dressed and joined Lilith downstairs. Together, they walked through the village, the bustle of daily life a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous night. Men and women who had avoided them the night before now greeted them warmly, their respect for their Laird and Lady evident in their smiles and bows.
“I told ye that ye wouldnae regret appointin’ Ryder as yer man-at-arms,” Lilith began as they strolled past a row of market stalls. “Honestly, that and perhaps what has happened in Kiel…”
There’s me opening.
“It was brigands. They set the place on fire and set the livestock loose after nay doubt stealin’ some. They were surrounded by the villagers by the time we got there. Tristan led a group from the castle, and we defeated them.”
“When did ye get that new wound?”
“Right after I realized that Tristan had moves like the assassin’s, and was distracted thinkin’ about it and watchin’ him.”
“ Tristan ?”
“Aye, the same,” he confirmed.
The words left unspoken hung heavily between them.
Tristan Gunn could ken something about the attack. He could have also orchestrated the whole thing.
Damon’s mind lingered on the events of the night before.
“I’m still wonderin’ who’s behind all of this,” he admitted. “The brigands… it’s nay coincidence.”
Lilith nodded, her expression thoughtful. “We’ll figure it out,” she said, her voice steady. “Together.”
As they passed a stall filled with flowers, Lilith paused, her eyes lighting up at the sight of a familiar bloom.
The vendor, an elderly woman with kind eyes, greeted her warmly and handed her a flower. “For ye, Lady McCallum,” she offered. “It suits ye.”
Lilith smiled, her fingers brushing over the delicate petals. She reached for her purse, but Damon stepped forward, placing a coin in the woman’s hand before Lilith could protest.
“That’s kind of ye,” he said, nodding to her.
Lilith glanced at him, her cheeks flushing as she clutched the flower. “Ye didnae have to do that.”
“Aye, but I wanted to,” he replied, his voice soft. “It does suit ye, lass.”
She looked away, her blush deepening, and Damon found himself smiling. Despite the chaos and uncertainty surrounding them, this moment felt… right.
That evening, the inn was full to bursting with Damon’s men once more, all on high alert. Ryder settled himself upstairs on a bench that had been brought up.
It was their third night together, and Damon figured that now was as good a time as any to bring it up.
“Lass, I had something else planned for our third night together, I’ll admit.”
“We could just finish last night’s game.”
“Nay, I owe ye one answer to the sun-six that ye rolled before we were interrupted, but our next evening will be different.”
Images of her in his arms with her legs wrapped around his waist flashed across his mind.
“And what, precisely, will our next evening include?” she asked defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest even as she waited for his response.
Looking her over once more, he turned and walked over to the hearth, where they had played the game. “Ye will find out shortly—once I plan it,” he said, carefully sitting in the armchair and gesturing for her to join him.
Lilith laughed and crossed the room. The moment she sat down, he leaned forward, slightly closing the distance between them. “Ask.”
The squirming she tried to hide was simply sensational, and he wanted to see her squirm more often. He knew the question would have something to do with last night—it had to. And if it wasn’t, then he already knew how frustrated he would be, because he hadn’t stopped thinking about it.
Finally, Lilith stopped fidgeting with the hem of her skirts and leveled a fiery look at him through her long eyelashes. “Do ye wish to kiss me again?”