Chapter 7
Rain crashed into the windowpanes like arrows.
Eileen blinked awake to the low rumble of thunder vibrating through the stone walls. Her room was dim despite the fire burning low in the hearth, and the smell of soot and damp clung to the air. Outside, the sky lashed out in torrents, and every clap of thunder made the window rattle.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, trying to push away the remnants of dreamless sleep. The sheets tangled around her legs, and the space beside her where Piper sat was cold now. A small piece of parchment peeked from beneath her pillow—Archer’s note.
Her fingers hesitated before pushing it further beneath the linen.
A sharp knock sounded at the door. Before she could answer, the heavy oak creaked open, and in stepped Archer Fleming, dripping wet and wind-tossed, a fine sheen of rain glistening across his shoulders and dark hair.
He carried the storm with him, along with something else—the same unreadable look he always wore around her.
“Ye are awake,” he said, stepping further inside and shutting the door with a thud.
“Aye, just,” she replied, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “Hard nae to be, with all that racket outside.”
He crossed the room in a few strides and stood by the fire, adding wood to the flames and warming his hands briefly. Then, he turned to face her fully.
“There’s a storm. It’s the worst we’ve had in months. The roads arenae safe today; they’re all flooded.”
Eileen tilted her head. “So… what? Ye came to tell me I’m stuck here, like it or nae?”
He gave a small, knowing smirk. “Aye. Until the storm passes, ye will remain here at the keep. I’ll make arrangements for ye and yer maid.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If I didnae ken any better, I’d think ye summoned the storm yerself to keep me from tryin’ to run off again.”
He didn’t answer right away. His smirk widened. “Just imagine what I could do if I put me mind to it, lass. If I can summon a storm, then surely I can temper the one within ye.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she scowled at the heat that rose in her chest.
He finally sighed and crossed to the table near the window, where a kettle and two cups she had not noticed earlier sat. He poured her a drink without asking and handed it to her.
“Ye feelin’ well?” he asked quietly.
The gentleness of his question threw her off.
She stared at the cup, the scent of mint and honey wafting to her nose. “Aye… I mean, I dinnae ken,” she admitted.
And just like that, the memory of the guard’s lifeless body and the blood crashed back in. The smell.
“The guard,” she croaked. “Has anyone found out who—”
“Nae yet,” he interrupted, his voice tense. “Still searchin’. The men are combin’ through the records. Calum’s got eyes on everyone. But whoever did it… they were trained. Kenned our patterns.”
She looked away, her heart pounding. “It could have been aimed at ye.”
“It was aimed at me, lass.”
He said it so flatly that it made her stomach twist. That quiet certainty was worse than any panic.
“Why did ye come here?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Ye were here. Alone. I came to make sure ye were safe.”
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the rain.
She didn’t thank him. She wasn’t sure she could. Not with everything that still sat between them.
“I… I ken we dinnae get on all that well, but I wouldnae wish death on ye or any of yer men. The guard was so young. I just cannae imagine…”
“Aye,” he uttered.
It was a tight reply, one tinged with a hint of sympathy but laden with lashings of vengeance.
“I come to yer castle, and the very same day, one of yer men is murdered, and—”
“Och, hold yer wheesht,” Archer interrupted. “This wasnae yer fault. Whoever came for me meant to do it afore ye got here, lass.”
“Aye, but what if O’Gunn captured Reid for some reason? What if he kens about me bein’ here because he has spies or somethin’? If he’s willin’ to kill ye because of me, then I cannae let that happen. I should be the one to go up against the sword.”
“Ye are brave, I mean that, but ye’re mighty foolish too,” Archer said. “If ye think I’m lettin’ a woman be put to the sword, then ye dinnae ken me very well.”
“Aye, but it’s me mess, and I need to deal with it,” Eileen argued. “If goin’ to O’Gunn and acceptin’ his proposal saves Reid and yer clan from a war, then I have to do it.”
“The clans have been at war long afore ye stepped foot into this world, lass, and they’ll be at war long after we’ve taken out last breaths. Some reputable lairds might use circumstances as justification, but that doesnae mean ye’re to blame. And I’m nae lettin’ ye wed that man.”
“So, ye have a claim to me now?” Eileen asked.
“Nay, I dinnae have a claim to ye, and I dinnae believe any man will ever have a claim to ye. Nay matter what ye think about me, and despite yer impudence, I dinnae want to throw ye to the wolves.”
“I’ll walk into that devil’s lair meself and offer him me hand if it means me braither walks free and nay more of yer guards are slaughtered.”
Archer’s eyes darkened, the warmth in them vanishing like smoke. “Ye dinnae even ken whether he has yer braither. Little, brash lass.”
“I’m doin’ what I feel I must. Ye said yerself I shouldnae go off alone, but I will if I have to.”
He stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. “Did anyone tell ye what happened to his last bride? Did Thomas? Did Reid?”
Eileen blinked. “His last… bride?”
“Aye. Lachlan was engaged once. A cousin from a smaller clan, meant to unite two borders. Lovely lass, from what I understand. Smart, too. Brave.” His eyes connected with hers. “Made the mistake of questionin’ him once in public.”
He paused, his jaw tight.
“He killed her the night before their wedding. Her body was never buried. Nay one dares say her name, even now.”
The breath fled her lungs. “That’s a tale. Rumors.”
“Is it? I heard it from her cousin. He came to me two years after, beggin’ for help. O’Gunn never denied it. Said she was disobedient.”
Eileen stared at him, her heart thudding like a drum. “Ye met him, then?”
“I’ve met Lachlan Baird exactly four times.”
“He’s just a man.”
“Nay, lass. He’s nae.”
She shook her head slowly, the room spinning just a little. “But… if people ken that he killed her, why has nothin’ been done?”
“O’Gunn isnae a man ye just do somethin’ about, nae with the power he wields. Ye’d have to plot in the dark and hope that enough people join ye. But if yer whispers are heard, a war starts. The relationships between the clans arenae simple, lass.”
“Then I must go to him,” Eileen begged.
“Even after hearin’ what I’ve just told ye, ye’re willin’ to walk into his arms and face death? Nay one kens what his betrothed did to deserve death, but I spent a day with ye and already saw ye gettin’ yerself into all sorts of trouble.”
Eileen paused for a moment. She didn’t know whether to laugh with him or scream at him.
“He has Reid,” she scolded firmly. “He wants to start a war by killin’ ye. If I can help anyone, even one person, I have to try.”
“Ye dinnae even ken that yer braither is there!” Archer boomed, shaking her resolve and sending a bolt of lightning through her body.
“Ye think O’Gunn will bargain with ye fairly all because ye think he has yer braither?
Dinnae be so daft. It’s beneath ye. If he has him, he’ll demand a steep price, and if he doesnae, he’ll still use his disappearance to get somethin’ out of the situation. ”
Thunder crashed outside, and Archer stepped away from her, returning to the fire. The flickering glow caught the side of his face, casting his high cheekbones in gold.
“If ye disappear into that place, we might never see ye again.”
We? What do ye care if ye see me again? Ye can find another lass to play betrothed with ye. I’m nae special in that regard.
“Then what would ye have me do?” she demanded, tossing the blankets to the side and standing up.
He watched her, unmoving.
The silence stretched between them. There was no hiding now.
“Ye ken what ye must do, lass,” he said, nearing exasperation.
Eileen looked out at the storm again, then met Archer’s dark stare.
But at what cost?
“Accept me proposal. Stay here. We will work together to find yer braither,” he repeated slowly.
“Ye talk about O’Gunn gettin’ something out of the situation, but what do ye get out of this charade, huh?”
He stood straighter. “I already told ye. I get me council off me back. I get peace in me home. And mayhap I keep a foolish woman from walkin’ into her death.”
Eileen bit her lip hard. She wanted to slap him. She also wanted to trust him.
“Whatever ye decide, make it quick,” Archer said, his tone clipped as he turned and walked to the door before she could say anything else. “I’ve called a council meeting,” he added over his shoulder. “I’ll speak to ye after.”
Frustration bubbled up inside her as he opened the door and strode into the corridor. Without thinking, she snatched the long robe hanging over the back of the armchair, pulled it on, and fastened the ties tightly around her waist before stepping into her warmed slippers and following him outside.
“Laird MacLennan!”
He didn’t slow down but turned his head slightly, acknowledging her presence.
“I’m nae finished,” she called. “Ye might think ye are helpin’, but—”
He shot her a look. “Then come along if ye must.”
So she did.
She followed him through the keep, her slippers whispering against the stone, her robe clutched tightly around her. The castle halls were empty, and her voice dropped to a low murmur as she continued to follow him.
“Why do ye keep indulgin’ me if ye have more important things to tend to?”
She thought she heard him mutter under his breath, “Maybe that’s the damned problem.” But he didn’t breathe any life into a response.
Her heart thundered. There was something in the way he looked at her when they skidded to a halt outside a heavy wooden door. As if he, too, was suddenly addicted to their arguments.
Before she could find the words to say anything further, a smooth, polished voice from down the hall interrupted. “Laird MacLennan. I trust we are all present now?”
Archer turned slightly. “Aye. Mack, this is Lady Eileen Kilmartin.”
The man who appeared was tall and barrel-chested, his smile pleasant, but something about it made Eileen’s skin prickle. His voice, more than anything, struck her like a cold splash to the face. Deep. Familiar in the worst way.
Too familiar.
How do I ken this man? Do I ken this man? Mack… Mack what?
She stared at him, her eyebrows knitted. Her stomach twisted with unease, but the memory wouldn’t surface.
Archer glanced at her, then stepped closer, his hand on her elbow. “Come.” He guided her a few paces down the hall, away from others, his voice low. “Ye well? Ye went pale.”
“Aye. I just… I feel like I’m supposed to ken him or remember him. I cannae place the memory, though. I was lost in thought.”
Archer studied her a beat longer, then nodded.
She took a breath, her hands twitching slightly at her sides. “I havenae been very gracious. And yet ye have been nothin’ but kind—besides when ye tackled me to the ground and accused me of bein’ a spy.”
Archer winced and pressed his lips together.
“Ye’ve been protective and kind, and I want to apologize, Archer,” Eileen continued, her voice growing smaller with each word.
She looked up at him and realized that he looked genuinely surprised.
It brought a smile to her face.
Before he could respond, she placed a hand on his forearm. “Can we talk after yer council meetin’?”
He gave a small nod, his expression softening before he turned and walked into the chamber.