Chapter 30
The castle was quiet. Archer had sunk in a chair in his bedroom, an old, worn book in his hand. He had been on the same page for over an hour, his eyes simply scanning the page without taking in any of the words.
It was getting cold. Summer was quickly fading now and the first of the autumn was creeping in, its chill seeping through the stones when the sun wasn’t hitting the room.
Archer stood and pulled another blanket over River’s sleeping form, before bracing himself against the mattress and hovering over her.
“Wake up, River,” he said softly, as he ran a hand through her dark hair. River didn’t stir, though. She only lay there, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and steady as if she was simply asleep.
Was she, Archer wondered? Was this simply some form of deep sleep? Would she wake?
“Me Laird.”
Jenson’s frail voice surprised Archer. He hadn’t realized the man was in the room, which was entirely unlike him.
Archer had been trained to recognize signs of someone’s presence, to expect sneak attacks at all times, and yet now he was so preoccupied with River that he didn’t even know they weren’t alone in the room.
“Aye,” said Archer as he sat back in the chair. Jenson approached slowly, his aging knees carrying him with difficulty, and sat down next to River.
Ever so slowly, ever so gently, he began examining her. It was the third time that day that he had come to the room—once when Archer had first found her and brought her there to keep her safe, once no more than two hours earlier, and now.
And each time, he said the same thing.
“She seems fine to me,” said Jenson, giving Archer a reassuring nod, though Archer didn’t know if he was trying to reassure him or himself.
After all, Archer hadn’t been the one to call Jenson there three times in the span of a few hours.
The man had done that on his own, as if he wanted to ensure that River was safe.
“She’s nae wakin’,” Archer pointed out, rather unhelpfully.
“She will,” said Jenson. “It must be due to the shock that she is still sleepin’.”
Archer could only hope that was true. His gaze drifted back to River, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the gentle fluttering of her eyelids. Though she was not responsive, she was still full of life and that, Archer thought, had to count for something.
“The bairn is well too,” said Jenson, and Archer nodded in response.
“That’s good to hear,” he said, though in that moment, he was far more worried about River than he was for the child.
All that mattered now was her. All that mattered was that she would wake up and be fine, that she would have no lasting damage from this.
“The fire has been fully extinguished, too,” said Jenson, and Archer nodded again. He had had no doubt that his men would manage to put it out. Now all that was left was to rebuild the eastern wing, but that was hardly on his mind now. It wasn’t a priority, not when River was not waking up.
“I’ll leave ye to it, then,” said Jenson, and just as quietly as he had slipped into the room, he slipped out of it.
And Archer was alone with River once more.
The hours passed slowly, torturously so.
Archer couldn’t distract himself, nor could he find any comfort, any relief.
The sun lowered itself, and by the time it was dark, he had not even gotten up to light any candles.
Instead, he had allowed the room to be plunged into darkness, the only thing bringing some light being the small fire that burned in the hearth.
The first thing that alerted him to something changing was a sound, soft and pained, nothing but a quiet moan.
Archer sprang out of his chair and rushed to River’s side to find her eyes glinting in the dim light when she fluttered them open.
Then, he sprang up again when she sat up abruptly in bed, suddenly drenched in sweat, looking around her with a frantic gaze.
“It’s alright,” Archer told her, grabbing her shoulders to calm her. “River, we’re safe. It’s over.”
“Finlay—”
“It’s over, Archer repeated firmly. “He cannae hurt ye now.”
“The bairns…Layla…”
“All safe,” Archer assured her, and only then did River’s shoulders sag with relief, though the panic hadn’t fully drained from her body yet. “Daenae fash. Everyone is safe.”
Soon, River collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air.
She reached for her chest, rubbing it as if it pained her to breathe, and Archer supposed that was to be expected.
She had inhaled a lot of smoke. Jenson had spoken of some concoction that he would give her for it once she was awake, and Archer had half a mind to go fetch him right in that moment, but he didn’t want to leave River’s side just yet.
“What…what happened? I…”
She was struggling to speak, to find the right words, and for a moment Archer feared that she, too, had lost some of her memories. But she seemed to remember him and the others, and she seemed to remember the fire, so his fear soon subsided.
It was only shock, he told himself, just like Jenson had claimed.
“Rest,” Archer said gently. “Ye daenae have to think about all this now.”
“How can I nae think about it?” River asked with a soft, humorless chuckle. “I cannae believe Finlay would do such a thing. He…he was like a faither to me. Archer, how could he do that? How could he…and nae just me, but the bairns as well.”
It was as if the word triggered a memory in her, and River’s gaze snapped down to her stomach, her hand coming to rest there.
“Is the bairn…is it alright?”
“Aye,” Archer was quick to say, to soothe her fears. “Aye, Jenson said the bairn is fine.”
That seemed to help calm River, but her shoulders were still tense, fear clinging to every part of her body.
Archer couldn’t blame her. She had the same look on her face as many soldiers he had seen in the past, those who had survived against all odds, who had seen death in the battlefield, and they were forever changed.
It would take time for her to be comfortable again, to not look around every corner before taking it, to not look over her shoulder every few minutes, fearing that Finlay would be there.
The man was dead, but his ghost would linger forever in her life.
Archer refrained from telling her he was dead.
She must have suspected, of course, since she had to know Archer wouldn’t let the man live after what he had done, but he didn’t want to bring him up to her now.
What good would it do, mentioning his name?
Soon, they would have to talk about him, but tonight was not the night for this.
“Let me bring ye some food, some drink,” he said, as he pushed himself up and off the chair.
The maids had made sure to bring him food, water, and wine throughout the day, not only for him but for River as well, in case she woke up, and so he went to the sitting room to grab the freshest tray.
It was filled to the brim with meats, cheeses, and fruits, and when he brought it back to the bedroom, River sat up and tucked into it with great gusto, much to his relief.
If she was hungry, it meant she was well, too.
“Archer,” River said after a long while, when she was finished with most of her meal and was only nibbling on some cheese. “I cannae thank ye enough. Ye saved me…ye saved us.”
Archer shook his head, a small smile spreading over his lips. “River, ye did half the work. Nae only to free yerself but to fight against…against it all. To bring Layla to the door…ye did all that.”
A faint blush spread over River’s cheeks and she smiled bashfully at him. “Well, I only did what anyone would do.”
“Nay,” said Archer. “Ye did so much more.”
For a while, they sat in silence. Archer reached for River’s hand, holding it in his own, and he couldn’t help it anymore; he needed to confess.
“River, I…I love ye.”
The words came past his lips with more ease than he could have imagined.
He had always thought it would be difficult for him to make such an admission, to speak about his feelings, but now, after the fright the fire had given him, he had no choice but to be true to himself; to be true with River.
If anything were to happen to him, he would spend his final moments regretting never telling her how much he loved her, and he couldn’t live with that.
The smile that graced River’s face was so radiant that it lit up the entire dim room. Archer couldn’t help but smile back at her, lacing their fingers together where he was holding her hand.
“Ye do?”
“Aye,” said Archer, and now it was his turn for his cheeks to heat ever so slightly. He was glad for the darkness, and he could only hope River couldn’t see the effect she was having on him.
“I love ye, too,” she said. “I have, for a long time.”
Her words were like a balm to his soul, and Archer leaned closer to press a soft kiss to her lips.
“Are ye…are ye happy I’m pregnant?” she asked, and Archer hated how timid her voice was, as if she feared the answer. “I couldnae tell. I truly couldnae tell, with the way ye left…I thought—”
“I’m glad,” he assured her. “I am, River. I’m very glad, even if it is difficult for me to show it.”
The relief was evident in her face, and Archer wondered just how much distress he had caused her through his actions.
He should have been honest with her from the start.
He should have told her the truth from the start.
He should have told her how he felt about all this, but the truth of the matter was that even he didn’t truly know himself.
“I never wanted to worry ye,” he said. “But I never considered meself fit to be a faither.”