Chapter 11
Eileen paced the length of her chamber, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her shawl. Her eyes flicked to Archer’s gift, lying on her vanity, untouched since she set it down there the night before.
She should be focused. She should be planning.
Reid was still missing, and the moment she let that truth sink in, it felt like a stone dropped in her gut. And yet all she could think about was Archer.
His voice, his maddening smirk, the way he’d stood so close to her, his arms braced on either side of her as if she belonged between them. The memories seared themselves into her brain, wicked and warm.
What is wrong with me?
She huffed and tossed her shawl aside. This wasn’t helping. She needed a distraction.
She called out, her voice slightly sharp but lilted with inquisition.
The servants’ door creaked open a few moments later, and Piper peeked in with a wary expression. “Aye?”
“Would ye walk with me? I need some air.”
Piper blinked. “So long as we stay close to the keep. The weather’s turnin’.”
Eileen rolled her eyes. “Ye sound like Archer.”
“Only because he’s right to worry. Yer safety is nay small matter.”
Eileen grabbed her cloak anyway, already striding past her maid. “Then ye better keep up.”
They walked side by side through the outer gardens first, the hedges brown and brittle, petals dropping in surrender to the cold. Piper kept glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, obviously skeptical.
“Well?” Eileen finally snapped. “Spit it out.”
“So, ye are… betrothed?” Piper asked.
“Aye, it’s an arrangement.”
“It’s just… Do ye really think he’ll change once he weds ye?”
Eileen sighed. She wanted to tell Piper the truth, but the more people who knew it was all fake, the more chinks in the armor there were.
“That’s nae for me to want,” she replied. “I would give strength to both our clans.”
“Aye, but what about ye?” Piper asked. “I ken there’s more to a union than the two people involved, especially when one of them is a laird, but I’ve kenned many women who regretted marriage when their men went off lookin’ for other lassies after the weddin’ day.”
“There’s often rumors about many people,” Eileen told her.
“Where there’s smoke, there’s often fire, and the Laird’s fire is enough to choke any chimney.”
“Och, stop talkin’ about him like that. I’ve made me peace with what I’m doin’, and ye must, too.”
“As long as ye ken what ye’re doin’,” Piper murmured.
“Dressin’ as a lad to sneak away from home, goin’ into taverns in disguise, sneakin’ out of yer room when ye think I dinnae notice, and bein’ in the castle when a guard is killed.
Danger seems to cling to ye like the snow on the mountains in the Highlands.
Do ye ken what ye’re gettin’ yerself into? ”
Eileen bit her lip and looked away. “I can handle him.”
Piper snorted. “That’s nae the part that worries me.”
“Then what does?”
“I’ve seen the way ye look at him. I’m worried that ye dinnae want to handle him at all.”
Eileen stopped walking.
Piper immediately flushed. “Forgive me, Me Lady. I only meant—”
“Nay,” Eileen said, holding up a hand. “Ye’re right.”
She took a deep breath. The forest loomed just beyond the stone boundary, where the trees thinned out before thickening again into a tangled underbrush.
“Let’s walk farther,” she suggested.
Piper hesitated. “Is that wise?”
Eileen turned, walking backward as she replied, “I’ll be safe. I have me dirk, remember?”
Piper followed with a muttered prayer. “This is madness.”
They made it to the edge of the trees, where the light filtered through in dappled patches. Eileen could feel some of the tension drain from her limbs as the sun kissed her skin. Out here, she could breathe. She could think.
That was until a sharp voice cracked through the woods like a whip.
“Kilmartin!”
She spun around, her stomach flipping.
Archer was stomping toward them, fury carved into every line of his face.
“I went to yer room to speak with ye, and I found both ye and yer maid gone. For the life of me, I couldnae think where ye might be, but I hardly expected ye to be outside the castle grounds. Ye fair had me worried ye’d been taken.”
Eileen pulled out her dirk with a smile. “I brought this with me.”
“Och, dinnae play with me, lass.” Archer placed a hand on his chest. “I ken ye’re fierce, but are ye really ready to stab one of O’Gunn’s bandits.”
“Why would O’Gunn’s bandits be here to take me?” Eileen asked, suddenly feeling confused and sheepish.
“I dinnae ken if they would, but there’s somethin’ afoot, and until I discover what’s goin’ on, it’s me duty to ensure that ye’re nae kidnapped, especially as I’ve just sent a messenger to yer castle to inform them ye havenae been kidnapped.”
Piper jumped in. “Laird MacLennan, it was—”
Eileen raised a hand. “No, Piper. Ye dinnae have to pretend and take the blame. It was me who decided on the walk, and I brought ye along with me.”
“Well, that was sensible at least,” Archer acknowledged. “I loathe to think of ye out here alone.”
Eileen almost smiled at seeing his worry for her. He’d arrived quickly to ensure her safety, but he was annoyed. She didn’t swat to antagonize him further when he was being protective, so she pursed her lips before speaking again.
“Ye’re nae to blame,” Archer told the maid. “If I had to guess who was the mastermind behind this little escapade, I would say it was Lady Eileen and nay one else. Will ye go back to the castle while I speak with me betrothed?”
“Aye, Me Laird,” Piper replied. She looked between them, a little uncertain, then turned back toward the keep with her head bowed.
Eileen waited until her maid was out of earshot before squaring her shoulders. “Ye dinnae need to be so worried about me, Me Laird,” she began. “If ye’d gifted me flowers or jewelry, I would be a sittin’ duck, but I have this.” She waved the dirk around.
“Och, watch where ye point it,” Archer complained. “Ye’ll gouge out someone’s eye. I really need to train ye.”
“Ye might find that I’m nae so easily trained,” Eileen jested.
“Och, I kenned that from the moment I met ye. Still, ye cannae keep runnin’ off like this.”
“I wasnae runnin’ off; I was goin’ for a walk with me maid. I’m nae a prisoner in me own castle. Am I, me betrothed?”
“Nae yet,” Archer replied.
"That sounds like a challenge, and I daenae shy from a challenge," Eileen told him. She felt the dagger in her hand and quickly tucked it away before putting her hands on her hips.
"Aye, as if I dinnae ken that about ye already, and I barely ken ye," Archer replied.
“Then I fully expect ye’ll have to drag me back to the castle if ye want to keep me under lock and key. I’m yer betrothed, but I’m nae yer property.”
“I woudlnae hesitate,” Archer growled, stopping a breath away.
Eileen cocked her head as she looked at the Laird. Something flared in her chest. "Ye actually mean that, daenae ye? Ye’d enjoy it, too, wouldnae ye? Hoistin’ me over yer shoulder and carryin’ me back to the dungeons."
"Well, anybody mentioned the dungeons, but if it means keepin’ ye safe while under me charge, I’d do it in an instant."
"Ye actually mean it, ye really mean it. Yer bein’ serious!" Eileen blurted.
“Ye think ye can just do whatever ye please when yer braither is missin’? Do ye think ye’re safe?”
“So, I am a prisoner here?”
“Are ye listenin’ to a word I’m sayin’? Ye are me betrothed.”
“Nae by choice.”
He stepped closer, his nostrils flaring. “Ye dinnae understand. If somethin’ happens to ye while ye’re here, it’ll be me fault, and we both ken O’Gunn will use that to rally clans against us.”
“It was just a walk,” Eileen protested. “I was about to turn around and go back to the keep. I ken Reid is missin’.
” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I cannae sit around for a second, ‘cause as soon as I do, I start wonderin’ whether he’s dead.
And all ye can think about is how to contain me and use me to get what ye want. ”
His eyes narrowed. “Is that when ye think? I’m doin’ this for me own good and there’s nay risk? It will come to a head with O’Gunn, and nay matter what happens, ye’ll be able to walk away. I might nae have that chance. I dinnae care about ye; I care about the clan.”
“Then ye have a funny way of showin’ it, ‘cause ye wouldnae be runnin’ after me like this if ye didnae care about me.”
Archer shook his head and turned away.
Eileen was glad he did, for a flush rose to her cheeks. She was lashing out because she liked how he acted around her, and that only made things more complicated.
She tried to change tack. “Well, if ye need to do it, hoist me over yer shoulder and lock me in me chambers like some petulant child.”
He kept his back to her, but his shoulders rose and fell as he chuckled at her joke. When he turned back, some of the fire in his eyes was gone. “If ye keep walkin’ into the woods like a bloody fool, maybe I should.”
She leaned in, her chin tilted up. “Oh, aye. Ye’d love that, wouldnae ye?
Throwin’ me over yer shoulder like a limp sack of spuds.
Just like ye love sneakin’ up on me in the castle and scarin’ me into submission so ye can pin me to the wall, or makin’ sure ye’re one with me in the woods and…
” she trailed off when she realized where her little speech was leading.
She saw it in Archer, too, when his breath caught. A small crack in his restraint.
“In the woods and…?”
He stepped forward, and she backed up instinctively until her spine met the rough bark of a tree. He braced one hand beside her head.
“What else do I do, hmm?” he asked, his voice low and lethal. “Why do ye keep runnin’? Is it so I’ll chase ye? Go on, say it.”
Her breath shuddered. “Ye-Ye look at me like ye want to devour me. Ye touch me like ye are afraid to break me. And ye… ye make it so I cannae even think straight. I needed air and solitude. I needed to talk to someone. That’s why I’m out here. I’m nae runnin’. Christ alive!”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “Is that so?”
She barely nodded when he kissed her.
It was not gentle. It was not careful. It was heat and hunger and every unspoken word that had hung between them during the stolen glances and sharp-edged banter.
He claimed her mouth like a man breaking his fast after years of famine, and she yielded to him without thought, only need.
Her fingers twisted in the front of his shirt, dragging him impossibly closer.
She could feel the hard planes of his chest beneath her palms, his heart pounding as wildly as her own.
Archer groaned into her mouth as her lips parted for him.
His tongue swept deep, coaxing, demanding.
She responded with an eagerness that startled even herself, meeting him exactly where he met her.
Her back arched against the tree, and he pressed into her, his thigh parting hers, the hard lines of his body making her whimper.
His hand slid up her spine, his fingers splaying wide at the nape of her neck to anchor her.
His other hand gripped her hip possessively, like he meant to memorize her curves.
She felt the bark bite at her back, rough and grounding, but it was a distant sensation.
All she knew was the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his beard, and the low, reverent growl he made when she tugged at his hair.
She was drowning in him, and she never wanted to come up for air.
When he pulled back, it was only to look at her—eyes dark and hooded, mouth swollen and wet from their kiss. His breathing was ragged.
“Christ, woman,” he whispered, his voice raw. “What are ye doin’ to me?”
She swallowed, dazed, her lips tingling. “I should ask ye the same.”
He leaned in again, his mouth brushing hers in a ghost of a kiss. “Never tempt me like that again,” he rasped. “Nae unless ye want me to lose all control.”
Her smile was slow, wicked, breathless. “But I might.”
He groaned, resting his forehead against hers, his fingers still tight around her like he couldn’t bear to let go.
What might I do?