Chapter 5
“What’s in it for me is me maither and the council gettin’ off me back for a while,” Archer told her. “Ye get far more out of it than I do.”
He wanted to send her back upstairs to retrieve her shawl as he watched her shiver in the depths of the dungeons, but they were down there now, and it wouldn’t take long. A part of him wanted to warm her, but he knew she wouldn’t let him.
“There’s somethin’ ye’re nae tellin’ me,” Eileen said.
“Ye dinnae trust me one whit, do ye?” Archer shook his head and gestured around them.
“Go on, take a gander. Ye want to find yer braither, but I’m nae lettin’ ye sneak around to find him on yer own.
Look for as long as ye like and ye’ll find that he’s nae here, and then maybe we can have a wee bit of trust.”
“Ye just asked me to be yer betrothed when I’m promised to another. That doesnae seem like a trustworthy proposition.”
Archer smiled. “Aye, maybe ye’re right, but O’Gunn hasnae come to ask for yer hand yet, has he? All I want is for yet to pretend. Ye’re good at it, are ye nae? Except this time, ye willnae have to pretend to be a lad, only a lass. Me lass.”
Eileen put her hands on her hips. “Is this… Are ye tryin’ to get me into yer bed?”
“Och, go and boil yer head,” Archer scoffed. “If I want a lass beneath me sheets, I’ll have one. I willnae need to run around pretending to be betrothed. If ye dinnae want help findin’ yer braither, then the deal’s off.”
“Nay, I didnae say that,” Eileen said quickly. “I just need a minute to think about it.”
“Take a minute to look around, but I havenae got all night.”
Eileen’s lips tightened as she forced herself not to speak.
She shivered again in the cold dungeons and walked toward one of the cells defiantly, even though fear was etched on her face at what she might find there.
She had no sooner reached the cell when the prisoner inside threw himself at the bars.
She yelped and jumped back. She would have stumbled and hit the ground if Archer hadn’t stepped forward and grabbed her around the waist. Her body was soft like a sack of feathers against the tension in his muscles, and she fell back into him such that his face was an inch from her neck.
Even in the darkness, he could see the pale smoothness of her milky skin. Despite the musky earthiness, her sweet scent slipped through.
Archer had been in this position many times; the next thing to do was to kiss her neck.
“Is this an aye, me betrothed?” he asked.
Eileen quickly wriggled free, turned toward him, placed her hands on his chest once more, and pushed herself away.
“Och, ye are insufferable,” she sniped.
“Do ye need help with yer search?” Archer asked with a smile.
“Nay, I’m fine,” she replied, smoothing down the front of her dress.
She approached the next cell tentatively, standing on her tiptoes to look in.
The prisoner inside didn’t make a sound.
She made her way around the lowest level of the dungeons, checking each cell, not making a sound as she searched for her brother, and it didn’t take her that long to figure out that he wasn’t there.
“All right, so ye were bein’ truthful about one thing,” Eileen muttered.
“Aye, I was,” Archer agreed. “Come on, let’s get ye back to yer room. Can ye stay there for the night at least?”
“Aye,” Eileen grumbled.
They made their way back upstairs, Eileen walking slightly behind him. Every time he looked back at her, she would quickly avert her gaze. When they were back in her room, she looked down at her feet, twisting her lips as if she had something to say.
She opened her mouth to speak when an earsplitting scream sounded from somewhere deep in the keep.
They both froze, his eyes searching hers wildly before reaching for his dagger.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
“Like hell I will.”
The scream cleaved through the quiet like a blade, sharp and full of panic.
Archer was already moving. The familiar weight of his dagger was a comfort in his palm. He bounded past Eileen, easily reaching the door before her. His hand landed on the door, keeping it shut as she tried to pull it open.
“Ye willnae follow.”
“I will,” she said stubbornly. The fire in her eyes heated his very core.
His hand curled around the handle, over hers. “Then ye’ll stay behind me and out of the way.”
Eileen smartly released the handle and nodded once.
Archer moved quickly then, the door swinging open and banging loudly against the stone wall, rattling the sconces and stirring the shadows in the corridor.
He didn’t look back at her; there wasn’t time.
His boots pounded against the stone floor, each step filled with mounting dread, and her lighter footsteps hurried after his. He could hear her breathing fast behind him, could feel the fear in the air.
His gut twisted. That scream—it had come from close by.
From his chambers.
His blade still drawn, he thrust it behind him and felt Eileen’s hand curl around the hilt. He quickly retrieved the dirk from his boot as they reached the end of the corridor, instincts honed by years of war and whispers in dark corners screaming that he was too late.
He rammed his shoulder into the heavy oak door to his chambers and burst inside, pointing the blade menacingly to cut down whoever was waiting for him there.
And froze.
The metallic tang of blood hit him first, thick and suffocating. It clung to the air like smoke, curling in his throat and turning his stomach.
A guard lay across the threshold, his throat slit. His blood seeped into the stone floor in slow rivulets. His eyes stared up blankly, frozen in startled disbelief, his mouth slightly parted as though he’d tried to call out.
“Bastard,” Archer hissed, his voice sharp and deadly. He whirled around, knowing his man-at-arms was nearby. “Calum!”
As if summoned by the force of his fury, Calum appeared, his eyes scanning the scene before him. A second guard followed close behind, his sword drawn.
“Christ above,” Calum muttered as he took in the sight. “What happened?”
Archer opened his mouth to speak, but Eileen suddenly clawed at his chest and pressed her body to his, her face buried in his chest so she wouldn’t have to see the horror.
He looked down. She wrapped her arms around him, her face as pale as winter milk. Her eyes were wide with the memory of the blood pooling beneath the fallen man. Her lips parted, her shaky breaths warming a small patch on his chest.
She looked more like a ghost than a woman at that moment.
The dagger slipped from her hand and fell to the stone floor with a clang.
Damn it all.
Archer wrapped his arm around her, his hand cradling the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her strawberry blonde curls.
He pulled her tighter to him, shielding her from the awful sight.
His eyes darted around the room wildly, searching for any danger.
Her body trembled against his, and he tightened his grip slightly, grounding her.
“Come, lassie,” he said, voice lower now, gentler. “Ye dinnae need to see this.”
She didn’t argue, but her legs faltered as she turned around. He guided her away, the dirk still in his hand, his shoulders tight with tension.
Archer scanned every corner they passed, his mind split between the murderer guard and the woman beside him.
Back in her room, he eased her onto the edge of the bed. Her hands shook in her lap, her shoulders stiff with shock. He crouched in front of her.
“Are ye well, lass?” he asked, searching her face.
She nodded, but it was an automatic movement—absent and unconvincing.
“That was…” She swallowed hard. “He was just doin’ his duty.”
“Aye, and he didnae fail.”
She swayed slightly, and he rested his hands on her knees. Their gazes locked.
“Ye need to rest. I’ll have some men stationed outside yer door. Nay one will come near ye.”
Her brown eyes were glassy. “Why would someone kill one of yer guards? In yer chambers?”
Archer exhaled slowly through his nose. “That’s what I intend to find out.”
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, startling her. Archer shot to his feet, placing himself between her and the door.
“Me Laird?” came the voice of a younger soldier who poked his head around the door.
“Aye?” Archer barked.
“Ye are… needed, Me Laird.”
He turned to check on Eileen and watched as her glazed eyes wandered slowly from the blade in his hands, along the hem of his untucked tunic, up his arm, and finally up to his eyes.
“Ye are safe, lass. I willnae let anythin’ happen to ye. Ye ken?”
She nodded slowly.
“I must go,” he said, turning away from her. “Stay with her. She doesnae leave this room, and nay one enters unless I say so. Clear?”
The soldier gave a nod.
Archer turned fully around then, crouching in front of her again and resting his hands on her knees once more. “Ye’re safe,” he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being.
Leaving her was harder than he had thought.
He forced himself to shake the feeling as he moved through the corridor again.
The air was thicker, guards stood tighter, and a buzz of whispered unease clung to the walls.
Calum was waiting by the body, his jaw tight.
“Nay one saw anythin’?” Archer asked in a clipped tone.
“Nae a soul,” Calum murmured. “We estimate that the guard died quickly. One single movement, nay other injuries.”
“Professional work. Trained,” Archer muttered, his eyes narrowing.
Calum nodded. “There was nay scuffle, except entry into the chambers. Whoever did it kenned their way around this wing.”
“And got in and out without bein’ seen,” Archer added, looking around the room to check if anything seemed out of place.
Calum met his gaze, and the two men inhaled sharply. They walked side by side down the corridor moments later, their voices low.
“What are ye thinkin’?” Calum asked.
“They kenned our patterns. Our guards. Our weak points. They waited for their moment and struck. This wasnae random—it was planned.”
Calum gave a low whistle, and Archer chanced a glance over his shoulder to ensure that the young guard was still stationed in front of Eileen’s chambers.
He was.
“Someone from inside the castle, then?” Calum suggested.
Archer didn’t answer right away. His thoughts drifted to Eileen again—her small hand in his, the way she had looked at the blood, the way she hadn’t screamed. She was strong, but she shouldn’t have had to see that.
“Look into it,” Archer said finally. “Quietly. I want names, shadows, and rumors. Anything that smells off.”
Calum gave a short nod. “And the lass?”
“She stays, for now.”
“Is that wise?”
“Mayhap nae,” Archer muttered. “But I’ll nae send her off into danger unprotected. Nae when someone just tried to kill me in me own keep.”
Calum gave him a look. “Ye reckon she’s involved?”
Archer shook his head. “Nay. She was beside me the entire time. And if she wanted me dead, she could’ve stuck a knife in me gut when I handed it to her—probably would have smile doin’ it too.”
That earned a snort from Calum.
“The council must be called to order. Immediately.”
“Aye. I’ll call them.”
Still, the unease gnawed at Archer’s gut. The idea that someone inside his walls—someone he trusted—could be behind this didn’t sit well with him. And neither did the thought of Eileen lying in that room, shaken and vulnerable, alone.
“Keep yer eyes peeled,” he said. “And Calum…”
“Aye?”
“If anything else happens, anything at all, I’ll be informed of it before me next breath.”
“Aye, understood.”
As Calum walked off, Archer lingered by the window, watching the sun dip below the trees.
Someone has tried to make a statement, but they hadnae finished the job. Nae yet.