Page 73 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander

Damon’s grip on the reins tightened. “Tell me.”

Ryder hesitated, then relented. “Magnus blamed their maither’s death on them, ye ken?”

Halting his horse, Damon turned to look at Ryder as if not comprehending what he had just said.

“Aye, he told them they were the reason she died. Said they came into this world as demons, and that’s why he had to punish them.” Ryder’s voice was quiet now, edged with something close to regret.

“That’s evil, though nae necessarily out of character. How young were they?”

“Old enough to understand and carry that guilt around. Willow was a bit more free with her thinking, so it didnae quite affect her as much as it did Lilith.”

“What of their faither? Was he reallythatout of it nae to be there for his children?”

“Their faither was barely there. We all ken what happened to him after his wife’s death, but the only time he ever gave even Magnus attention was when he hurt the twins. Did nothin’ to truly stop Magnus, so the girls bore the brunt of it.”

Damon felt something sharp and dangerous coil in his chest.

“On some of the nights when they successfully hid from him,” Ryder continued, “they ate like kings. But most nights? They barely ate. They’re both so slight now because they didnae get the food they needed growin’ up. Smith tried to help where she could, but Magnus beat her sometimes too.”

Damon exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Smith… she was their housekeeper even then, aye? What of their nursemaid? Surely someone was around to ensure their well-being?”

“Nay, Laird McCallum didnae want to be tempted by any other woman—it was lucky that he kept Smith. After his maither’s death, every female servant was let go,” Ryder said sadly.

“But nae Smith? Was she nae temptin’ enough for him? That’s just ridiculous.”

“It was more of an act of loyalty. She has served the McCallums for so long. She will be the last, as she’s unwed, but she’ll keepher position until her death, to be sure. She’s too stubborn to be the first of her line to leave.”

Damon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he let the story settle into his bones, filling in the gaps, painting a picture of the woman he’d married. Lilith—his fierce, defiant, beautiful wife—had endured far more than she’d ever let on.

Learnin’ more about her is like a double-edged sword. I want to ken more, but it’s just pissin’ me off.

He let out a huff of frustration before he urged his horse into a gallop, and Ryder nudged his own horse to follow.

As they reached the keep, Damon dismounted and handed his reins to a stable hand. Then, with a newfound determination, he turned to the housekeeper.

“Smith,” he called.

The woman turned toward him, ever loyal, ever watchful.

“Gather some things for Lady McCallum. We’re goin’ on an evening stroll.”

Smith arched an eyebrow but nodded. “Me Laird, there are visitors.”

That gave him pause, and he knew instantly that the evening he had planned for himself and his wife would have to wait.

“What kind of visitors?”

Ryder came to stand beside him, ready to take the lead should the need arise.

“Riders from Monroich. In the meeting hall.”

Damon cast a glance at his man, raising an eyebrow. “Could be interesting. Rouse Finley and meet me in there.”

“Aye, Me Laird.”

Damon strode past Smith toward the meeting hall, tucking the adventure he had planned for himself and Lilith away for another day.

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