Chapter 10
The morning dragged on impossibly after leaving Ivy with instructions. The two women would wander the castle all day so that Eileen had a better idea about how to get around.
Calum met Archer out in the courtyard, both of their horses saddled and ready.
As usual, after council meetings, the two men rode out around the MacLennan lands, checking on the border patrol and a village or two.
It had been a couple hours since the meeting was adjourned, and the sun burned the mist away from the glen and gardens.
Their horses moved at a brisk but steady pace, hooves thudding rhythmically on the dewy ground.
Archer didn’t speak at first. His thoughts were tangled, tight and twisted around a certain strawberry-blonde-haired lass who had taken up far too much room in his mind. But Calum, never one to let the silence settle for long, rode closer and cleared his throat.
“So,” he said, side-eyeing him with a half-smirk, “when were ye goin’ to tell me ye were engaged?”
Archer groaned under his breath. “It’s nae real.”
“Och aye.” Calum chuckled. “She’s in yer keep, wearin’ yer clan’s colors, sharpshootin’ ye with her tongue, and it’s nae real?”
“It’s… an arrangement,” Archer muttered.
“Aye, sure. And I’m the Queen of Scotland.”
Archer scowled but didn’t answer.
They crested a hill and started their descent into the nearest village, where smoke from the forge mingled in the lifting fog.
Calum continued, undeterred, “She gets under yer skin, that one. I’ve seen the way ye look at her.”
“She’s bold,” Archer admitted. “Stubborn as hell. And she could probably power the forge herself, with all that fire…”
“So, why nae just marry her proper instead of pretendin’? I assume this is to keep yer maither and the council off yer back. I dinnae ken which is the lesser of those two evils, when it comes to being ye wed. Still, ye need to be wed proper, dinnae ye?”
Archer gave him a sideways glance. “I dinnae have time for marriage. What I have time for at this moment is stoppin’ a war and whatever else O’Gunn is plannin’. When that’s done—if it ever is—I can think about such distractions. I’m nae bringin’ bairns into a world that I cannae make safe.”
“Aye, but ye cannae deny she’s a bonny-looking lass,” Calum insisted.
“I dinnae think anyone could deny that,” Archer relented.
“If these were simpler times, I’d gladly take her into me bed and have me way with her.
But there are complications, and that’s why this agreement needs to be simple.
” He smiled slyly. “Ye really think she has feminine beauty? Ye dinnae think that she has a boyish look to her, like someone who’d drink in the tavern late at night? ”
“What?” Calum asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. “What’re ye talkin’ about, man?”
“Just a wee joke,” Archer replied. “Forget about it.” He chuckled to himself.
Calum raised an eyebrow. “So, how is yer simple arrangement workin’ out for ye?”
Archer grunted, pulling his horse to a stop just outside the smithy.
The forge had quietened since the accident. Only a few apprentices remained, sweeping ash and reorganizing tools. The air smelled of soot and scorched iron.
“Me Laird,” called out Duncan, the forge master, as he approached. He bowed his head. “Glad ye came. There’s… something ye should see. Both of ye.”
The two men followed him inside.
The blackened floor bore signs of cleanup, but the scorch marks showed where the impossibly hot blaze had surged unnaturally.
Archer crouched near the anvil, where Kenneth had supposedly lost his footing. “These angles dinnae make sense.”
“Aye,” Calum said, scoffing as if he’d already noticed it.
Duncan stepped forward, holding out a small charm melted around the edges. The symbol was warped. Archer couldn’t make sense of it at all.
“Damned fire,” he muttered, turning the charm over in his palm.
Archer stood by the hearth in the Great Hall later that evening, watching the flames dance and hiss, trying not to dwell on the trinket that Duncan gave him, which was burning a hole in his pocket.
He instead let his mind wander to other, more…
attractive memories. Like how Eileen had looked caged between his arms, her breath coming hard and fast, her eyes fixed on his mouth like she might forget herself entirely.
Like she wanted him to take something from her.
Not just a kiss, but control. Permission. A piece of her.
Saints help him, he hadn’t been much better. His whole body had burned to touch her, to taste her. She’d looked up at him with such raw hunger, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, and he’d been around women before. Beautiful, eager, aching women. But that moment had been different.
Eileen was different.
There was a clear innocence behind her fire. Boldness that didn’t come from practice but from purpose. She’d never looked at another man like that before, he was damned sure of it. The realization had shaken him more than desire had.
And so he stepped away. Because if he had kissed her, if he had touched her the way his hands itched to, he wouldn’t have stopped.
And she deserved more than that. She deserved respect.
He would not take what she wasn’t ready to offer, no matter how much her body had pleaded for it.
He would keep himself in check, no matter the cost.
He hadn’t touched her, but the temptation lingered, thrumming in his bones.
He heard her before he saw her—light, confident, purposeful steps. When he turned away from the fire, she was already in the doorway, and something about the way she held herself made him arch an eyebrow.
Eileen Kilmartin looked like a woman on a mission—and to his surprise, she wore a genuine smile.
“Good morn, Laird MacLennan,” she greeted brightly, folding her hands before her. Her tone was honeyed, her expression pleasant. Too pleasant. But this mood swing gave him the wildest rush he’d felt in quite a while.
He narrowed his eyes, though, playing into her cheerfulness. “Here ye are, bein’ sweet as cream. What vinegar do ye have lyin’ beneath, ready to assault me with?”
She tilted her head, feigning offense. “Must I have an excuse to be pleasant, then?”
He crossed his arms. “Aye. When it comes from ye, lass, I’d say that’s fair.”
She laughed softly and walked toward him with purpose, her skirts swishing around her legs. “Very well. I confess I’ve come to accept yer offer.”
His eyebrows rose. “Have ye now?”
“Aye. I’ll be yer fake betrothed.”
“Good, because I already told the council we were betrothed,” he said.
“What?” Eileen gasped. “Ye told them already? Why would ye go and do that?”
“Because I kenned ye couldnae resist me,” he drawled.
“Och, let’s call the whole thing off,” she complained.
“Calm down,” he soothed. “I only ken how much ye care for yer braither and what ye’re willin’ to do for him. Ye’re clearly a lass who doesnae shirk her duties, and I kenned ye would step up now.”
“And now, ye’re as sweet as cream,” she admitted.
“Ye willnae find a nobler man around,” Archer joked.
“Then I’m a lucky lass to be marryin’ ye.”
They stood looking at each other. Archer smiled, finding her pleasant in her bantering. If they had more of this, perhaps he could fully concentrate on O’Gunn instead of being riled up by the woman who’d just barged into his life.
When Eileen looked down at the floor, he cleared his throat “Then we’ll need to make it formal. I’ll organize a feast. Introduce ye to the rest of the council and me kin.”
She smiled wider. “A feast? How proper. How extravagant.”
His jaw ticked. Her ease, her comfort with his plan, felt wrong somehow. She should be suspicious. Uncertain when there was a spy in their midst and she’s dropped into his lap in disguise. He should have more questions. He hadn’t expected her… charm.
“And I’ll send word to Laird McFair. Let him ken that his sister hasnae been kidnapped.”
“Oh, please do. Or else Thomas will likely send half of our bloody warriors here to drag me back.”
He blinked. “That does sound likely.”
She grinned, stepping past him and toward the table near the hearth. “Would ye care for tea? I had a pot sent up.”
He followed, frowning as she poured two cups, adding a splash of honey and a sprig of mint to his.
“Ye’re full of surprises this morn,” he muttered, accepting the cup.
“Am I nae allowed to be agreeable?”
“Ye are, of course,” he said slowly. “But I’ll be honest, lass—it’s unsettling.”
She took a dainty sip. “I’ll gladly be rude again if it will ease yer nerves.”
Archer’s eyes flicked to her mouth as it curved around the rim of the cup, and he cleared his throat. “So, ye are set on this arrangement?”
“Aye,” she said. “I’ll marry ye and ye’ll aid me in findin’ me braither. It’s a fair deal.”
He smirked. “Aye, as fair as fair.”
“Me braither might nae have much time. I’m sure ye’ll act swiftly.”
Archer sat in the chair to Eileen’s left and leaned back, his eyes still on her. “I’ll do as I have said I would. But we do it right. If yer braither is actually bein’ held, we cannae give O’Gunn reason to act first.”
She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. I trust ye.”
The words sent a strange ripple through him.
He stood and moved to a small table near the wall. A wrapped bundle lay there, bound in cloth. He picked it up and turned to face her. “I’ve got somethin’ for ye.”
Her eyes lit up in surprise. “Truly?”
He stepped closer and held out the bundle. She took it and unwrapped it slowly.
Inside was a dirk. The hilt was carved with the crest of Clan MacLennan, the blade sharp and gleaming. A near-exact replica of the dagger he had given her before they came across the dead guard.
Her brow creased. “A weapon? As an engagement gift?”
He shrugged. “Better than flowers. Lasts longer.”
“Aye, but we only need them to last ‘til the end of our betrothal, which is supposed to be incredibly short,” she mumbled lightly.
Archer huffed a laugh under his breath. “I noticed how skittish ye are,” he said, his voice low. “And I figured, maybe ye would feel safer carryin’ this.”
She stared at him, her lips parted slightly. “Ye thought I was skittish?”
“Aye. Brave, aye, but wary. Like a doe in a field full of wolves.”
Her jaw tightened. “So, this is just another jest.”
“Nae in the slightest.”
She made to place the weapon back in his hands, but he stopped her, gently curling her fingers around the hilt.
“Denyin’ a gift from yer betrothed would be rude, would it nae?”
She narrowed her eyes, a flush blooming across her cheeks. “Ye ken I ought to loathe ye.”
“Aye, ye ought to, sure,” he said, stepping back. “But ye dinnae.”
She huffed and turned on her heel. “Thank ye for the dirk, dearest.”
As she walked away, her hips swayed with each deliberate step, and Archer couldn’t keep his gaze from lingering. Perhaps it was the humor and sharp wit she showed with so few words. Or how her damned skirt moved like it had a mind of its own, like it knew exactly what it was doing to him.
Saints above, he was going to lose his wit if she kept walking around his keep like that, acting as though she hadn’t just flushed and burned at his touch.
“Eileen,” he called, his voice lower than he had intended.
She paused. Just a moment. Just long enough. “Aye?” she asked over her shoulder.
He crossed the space between them in two long strides. She half turned, her eyebrows raised as though she hadn’t just shaken every thought out of his head.
“Do ye ken what ye looked like when ye took that blade from me?”
Her eyes rolled to the back of her skull with great effort, and Archer fought to hold back his laughter. “Like a damned fool, apparently.”
“Nay,” he said, his voice rough. “Like ye have never used one before. Have ye?”
“Well, nay. This would be the second time I’ve held a knife.”
“And the first?”
Her silence and pointed stare told him all he needed to know—it was just a couple of days ago, when he handed her his blade.
“We will have to work on that, then.”
“I’m nae plannin’ on usin’ it when—”
“I’d rather ye be able to protect yerself when I cannae be there, should the need ever arise.”
“Ye cannae be everywhere I am,” she scoffed.
He caught her wrist, and their eyes locked. “That’s what I’m sayin’, lass.”
Her cheeks reddened further. “I understand.”
“Ye will start lessons. If I have to train ye meself, then so be it.”
“So be it,” she echoed, before turning back, walking away faster this time.
Once she was gone, Archer released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Lord help me, she is goin’ to be the death of me.
“Calum,” he said in a low, deadly tone.
His man-at-arms appeared in the doorway, already alert, his hand on the hilt of his dagger as though ready for another threat. “Archer.”
Archer turned slightly, his jaw clenched, his thoughts still spinning. “I need ye to do somethin’ for me. Quietly.”
“Of course.”
“Send scouts to O’Gunn. Discreet. Nay banners. Nay insignia. I want eyes on their borders and their villages.”
Calum furrowed his brow. “Done. What are we scoutin’?”
“I wish to ken where Reid Kilmartin is. Me betrothed is under the impression that he might be with them.”
Calum nodded. “With them, as in bein’ held?”
“I dinnae ken yet,” Archer muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“But I mean to find out. If that bastard O’Gunn is behind all of this heartache, if he has the lad and has laid a finger on him, I will have justice.
And if he’s nae, then we’ll still need information for leverage.
He willnae take kindly when he hears that I’m betrothed to the woman he planned to marry. ”
Calum nodded. “Aye, he’ll howl worse than the wolves at a full moon.”
“Correct.”
“Understood.”
As Calum turned to go, Archer lingered, his eyes returning to the flames licking the stone hearth. But it wasn’t the fire he felt burning inside him—it was a desire to protect Eileen.
Eileen Kilmartin, what are ye doin’ to me?
The heat in her eyes had stirred something dark and hungry inside him. But what rattled him more was how protective he felt. Not just lust. Not just want. But something deeper, possessive even.
As long as she was under his roof, he would offer his protection. He would keep up the charade for as long as needed, and she could go on her way when all was said and done.
She was different from the women he usually tempted into his bed, more fiery and with a mind of her own, but that didn’t change anything.
If he could win the war with O’Gunn, the council might be happy enough not to push for marriage again. Peace in the lands was more valuable than a hundred marriages. Then, he could live his life in peace, ruling as Laird and not worrying about marriage—a bond he didn’t need or want with anyone.
Marriage only brings weakness. Lucky that I found a woman who doesnae want to marry me as much as I dinnae want to marry her.