Page 94 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander

In their retreat, Lilith’s eyes met the critical gazes of a group of men, some of Magnus’s favorites—the ones who had special privileges under her brother’s rule. They were standing apartfrom the crowd, speaking in tight-lipped, hushed whispers. Their eyes darted from Damon to other festivalgoers not with curiosity, but with something more akin to resentment.

His heartbeat was steady, but she knew Damon saw it all. He pulled her even closer, somehow.

“Relax, lass,” he murmured in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “Ye look like I’m haulin’ ye to the gallows.”

Lilith let out a laugh. Every fiber of her being wanted to be closer to him and shove him away at once. “I ken what ye’re doin’, Damon.”

“And what is that?”

“Puttin’ on a performance.” She turned her face up to his, just enough to make it look like an affectionate gesture. “Tell me, husband, are ye tired?”

He chuckled, low and dark, before pressing another chaste kiss to her forehead—a move that made nearby villagers smile and nod with approval.

“Everyone has a role to play today—even ye,” he said, smiling into her hair. “But if ye are tired, we’ll find a spot to rest. We just cannae leave, lass.”

Lilith clenched her teeth. “I play nothin’.”

“Dinnae fool yerself.” He pulled her impossibly closer, and she couldn’t resist him even if she truly wanted to.

But she didn’t want to. She truly wanted to be closer to him.

“The festival is exactly what we needed, Me Laird!” Kerry, the leader of Kiel, called jovially.

“I’m glad to hear ye say that, truly,” Damon responded in a calm, unbothered tone, clapping his free hand on the man’s shoulder before steering them further into the depths of the music-filled crowd.

There was something about crowds that made conversations all the more intimate. Lilith could use some time with Damon to get things off her chest.

The events leading up to the festival had all but made her push aside what she had so desperately wanted to talk to him about—their seventh night together. But looking at him now, not able to get a read on the man standing in front of her, she didn’t even know how to start.

Her head started to swirl with confusion as he moved them in time with the music.

“Ye look like ye wish to say somethin’,” Damon noted knowingly.

The comment made her blood boil, though not necessarily with anger.

“Aye, I’ve been wishin’ to speak with ye all week, but ye have been avoidin’ me,” she pointed out.

He smirked. “Go on, then. Ye have me attention now.”

I should start with Ariah first, right?

“Lass, ye are goin’ to have to start talkin’.”

She noticed that his eyes were black as night as they locked onto hers, having watched her pull her bottom lip between her teeth.

A long exhale through her nose helped to steel her resolve. “Ariah.”

His expression remained impassive. “That’s nae what ye spent all week stewin’ on—let’s nae bring it up now when we have such little time.”

“When, then?” she pressed, keeping her voice low despite her rising irritation.

“This is neither the time nor the place to speak of such things. Tristan Gunn is right behind ye, lass,” Damon replied, pressing her closer to him so that she didn’t turn to look and give them away.

“Ye’re avoidin’ the conversation.”

“Obviously—though I’m sure ye cannae come to terms with the reasons why.”

Lilith gritted her teeth. “Because of the festival. But now it’s happenin’ around us, so ye dinnae have that excuse anymore.”