Chapter 1
“Be on yer guard, lass. If he’s anything like his clansmen, he can and will be ruthless.” The gruff voice of Lilith Flanagan’s most trusted guard was meant to steady her. Instead, it made her stomach churn.
Her dear friend, Ariah Morris, chuckled nervously beside her; a laugh too strained to be genuine. Lilith could see the worry etched on her friend’s features despite her attempt at levity.
The Great Hall of McCallum Castle was filled with tension as council members and clansmen from even the farthest reaches of McCallum lands all awaited the arrival of their new Laird.
Damon Aragain—a name that had become synonymous with the unknown and power.
He was her sister’s brother-in-law, of Clan Brahanne, and he was on his way to stake his claim now that her brother, Magnus, had been laid to rest.
Lilith had met Damon only once before, yet her memories of that encounter were cloaked in unease. The younger Aragain brother was a rude, boorish brute, with nothing on his mind but combat and revenge. He was the one who killed her brother, and everyone was aware of it.
Is it just me, or did the hall just get colder?
She let the shiver roll through her shoulders as she pushed aside her apprehension, forcing a calm smile for the sake of her people.
“Stay strong, all of ye. Nay matter what, me sister will arrive soon, and I will always be here by yer side,” she assured them, though her voice wavered slightly.
The heavy oak doors swung open suddenly, and the herald’s booming voice announced their guests’ arrival.
All eyes turned toward the imposing figures entering the hall in pairs. All dressed in black, their faces stern and focused—they were clearly ready for a fight, should there be one. They were followed closely by Clan McCallum’s new Laird. The tall, remarkably rugged, and… chiseled new Laird.
Did he always look like that?
The man who Lilith knew to be Keegan’s brooding younger brother had stepped inside smoothly and confidently, his calculating gaze cutting through the crowd like a blade.
He moved with an air of authority, the weight of his presence silencing the hall with an eerie immediacy.
When his gaze met Lilith’s, heat pooled in the pit of her stomach, and she felt her body tighten.
“Is that…?” she overheard Ariah hiss, almost chastising her, as if she had failed to mention a key part of the entire arrangement—which she very clearly had.
The brute that Lilith remembered Damon Aragain to be was now a man she hardly recognized. The crude, vengeful warrior from her memories had transformed into someone altogether more lethal—not because of his blade, but because of the way his piercing gaze seemed to strip away her defenses.
Her breath caught as her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders and strong jawline, the ruggedness of him sharpened by the years.
His presence was magnetic, drawing her attention despite her best efforts to keep her guard up.
She hated herself for the way her heart raced, and how she found herself thinking not of her brother’s death or Damon’s flaws, but of the way his hand might feel trailing over her skin.
“Lilith,” Ariah whispered, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. “Are ye well?”
“Aye,” Lilith lied quickly, her lips pressing into a tight line. “I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t. Damon’s transformation—from brute to devastatingly dominating Laird—had unraveled something inside her, leaving her off-balance.
The way he commanded the room with just his presence filled her with a mix of frustration, admiration, and a traitorous flicker of desire that she couldn’t banish.
She couldn’t decide which frightened her more: the man Damon used to be or the one standing before her now.
His eyes are just so blue… Wait a minute—
Worry clawed at her chest, but she had little time to dwell on it.
Without any greeting or wavering of his piercing blue eyes, Damon’s commanding voice cut through the silence.
“Show me to me study,” he demanded, his tone leaving little room for argument.
“Where is me sister?” Lilith asked, forcing strength into her voice.
Damon tore his eyes away from her, taking in the hall around them before answering. The muscles in his neck rippled as he turned his head until he was facing her. She watched as his icy stare traveled up the length of her body before meeting her gaze once more, sharp and unyielding.
“She was injured on the way here,” he said. “An accident that left her with the tiniest of scratches, ye ken. But me braither, ever the overprotective husband, took her back to Brahanne Keep to recover.”
Lilith’s worry deepened with the confusion.
A scratch made her turn around? From what? What could have possibly—
But before she could voice any further questions, Damon’s eyebrows knitted together in irritation. And in front of the entire hall, Lilith heard the forceful words echo around her.
“I hate repeatin’ meself,” he said curtly. “Show me to me study.”
Irritated by his lack of compassion, she scoffed, “Right this way, Me Laird.” Then, she turned on her heel and led the way through the castle.
Damon followed closely, and then his men, the sound of their heavy boots echoing through the stone corridors.
As they came to the top of the staircase, away from any prying ears, Melissa’s cheerful voice chimed in, “Quite expansive. Is it nae, Braither?”
Having not expected her friend’s presence, Lilith whipped around, halting the procession, and a smile tore through her spiky exterior.
“Melissa! I didnae see ye before!”
“Ye think I’d let me braither come all the way here and nae bring me along?”
A heat spread through Lilith’s chest, and her nerves melted away. Her eyes flickered to Damon’s sharp gaze before meeting Melissa’s again. “Almost there.”
Moving faster, Lilith even hiked up her skirts to lead them the rest of the way.
There is nothin’ her braither can do or say to ruin this pleasant surprise. I’ll just dump him off at the study and then spend the rest of the day with Melissa. Perfect!
As they reached the door to the study, she turned, putting space between her and the rest. Staring only at Melissa as she pushed the door open, she confidently said, “Here we are—”
Only, her friend’s cheerful look faltered when Damon’s sharp gaze landed on the numerous banners and decorations that adorned the room.
“What’s with all these preparations?” he asked, his tone curious but edged with suspicion.
Melissa winced, avoiding Lilith’s gaze.
Lilith’s cheeks flushed as she explained, “I was to be married to a laird allied with me braither bef—” Her voice caught in her throat, which she managed to clear quickly.
“Before he died. The matter has been left unresolved, and now it falls to ye, as Laird McCallum, to decide whether the union is advantageous.”
“I have to approve a union for who?”
“For me,” Lilith said, flinching at her admission.
Getting married was the absolute last thing she wanted.
Anyway, her getting married was only a ‘backup plan’ for Magnus’s original plan.
Her sister had been engaged to Laird MacMillan, but as Willow was now officially married, the task fell to Lilith.
After Magnus’s death, however, the entire deal had been teetering like a glass full of water on the edge of a table, begging to be knocked over.
Melissa furrowed her brow as she began bombarding Lilith with questions. The commotion seemed to break the floodgates of general chatter among Damon’s party, and the space started to shrink around them.
The din made Lilith’s head spin until Damon raised a hand, silencing the room. “Leave us,” he ordered, his voice firm.
The men, understanding the unspoken part of their Laird’s order, departed without a single word. Melissa lingered for a moment before obeying as well, leaving Lilith alone with Damon.
The study’s walls kept moving inward, and Lilith tried to slow her breathing to fend off a fit. With Damon’s commanding presence filling every corner, it proved more challenging than ever. His eyes remained on her as she clenched and unclenched her fists, assessing her carefully.
Get it together, Lil. Focus on the things ye ken are real.
His eyes followed hers as she accounted for the desk, and then the window, and then the fireplace. Her breathing slowed with each pass she made around the room until, finally, she nodded her head with one last exhale.
Damon’s eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly before he nodded his head once, and pushed both of them past the heavy silence.
He glanced around the room, his expression unreadable. “Do ye have a desire to marry this intended of yers?” he asked.
Her nerves raw, Lilith clenched the fabric of her dress in her hand—a habit she couldn’t quite shake—before she answered honestly, “Nay.”
Damon turned to face her, his piercing eyes locking onto hers. “Then I willnae allow it,” he said simply.
A breath of relief escaped her lips. “Thank ye—” she began, but he cut her off.
“I have another match in mind,” he added, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
Lilith’s relief evaporated, replaced by tension. “Another match?” she echoed sharply.
He stepped closer, the intensity of his presence overwhelming. “Aye.”
“I dinnae have any other prospects. Magnus—”
“I ken well enough what yer braither was and wasnae capable of.”
Irritated once more by his presumptuous attitude, she replied swiftly while keeping a distance from him in case he moved to strike, “Well, I was just sayin’—before ye cut me off—that the only clan remotely interested in making an alliance with us was Clan MacMillan.”
He scoffed, “Clan MacMillan? Surely ye must ken that they werenae the only clan interested.”
“The Highland clans were made aware of the scandal between yer braither and me sister. Ye can thank me braither for that word spreadin’, may he rest in peace.”