Chapter 14
Archer was leaning against the window frame in the solar as Calum arrived. Rain just started to patter against the leaded glass, a soft, constant drum that seemed to echo the growing tension in his chest.
“Trail’s cold,” Calum uttered grimly. “We tracked it back half a day then we lost it. Whoever passed through covered their tracks well.”
Archer nodded, his jaw tightening. “And Reid?”
Calum hesitated before answering, “He never crossed into our lands. Spoke with some of the traders and a few border sentries, but none have seen him.”
Archer swore under his breath.
“Still think it’s O’Gunn?” Calum asked.
“Aye,” Archer muttered darkly. “He’s mad but nae stupid. If he’s got McFair’s kin, he’s keepin’ him alive for leverage.”
Calum crossed his arms. “What do ye wish for me to do now?”
“Keep diggin’. Discreetly. If there’s even a whisper of his whereabouts or anything odd about O’Gunn’s movements, I wish to ken it first.”
“Aye, and the attempt and the mishap at the forge?”
“Let’s keep that closer to home. The smaller the search, the better.”
“Ye reckon it’s one of our own?”
“The way they got in and out was too easy. They had to be, at the very least, aided by one of our own,” Archer explained smoothly.
“Their funerals are tomorrow.”
Archer nodded silently. He would go. Of course, he would go.
But funerals… well, he hated funerals most of all.
Calum sighed. “Lady Eileen is well. She is still quite… curious about her braither’s whereabouts.”
“She’s clever, is she nae?” Archer asked eventually.
“Aye, she is, to be sure,” Calum agreed. He raised a knowing eyebrow, leaving room for Archer to finish what was clearly on his mind.
“And so exhaustingly, bleedin’ stubborn!”
Both men huffed a chuckle.
“She’s clever, Archer. Ye have chosen well.”
“Ch—” Archer started to exclaim at the exact moment Eileen appeared.
He straightened. He felt as stiff as the two corpses would be in their caskets. Not even her rich brown eyes could melt the shell that had grown around him. Two men dead on his watch was a timely reminder that he had to be vigilant about what happened around him and within him.
“Me Laird,” she greeted, almost in a purr.
Her voice was low, hesitant, but mildly warm like honey that had sat out in the sun and was just starting to soften.
Archer’s eyebrows rose.
What is she up to?
“Good evenin’, Me Lady,” Calum said, dipping his head before leaving them alone in the solar.
“Good evenin’, Calum,” Eileen replied smoothly, her eyes fixed on Archer’s.
She stepped closer to him once Calum was out of the room—a bit too close—and tilted her head.
“I want ye to ken that I willnae try to escape or run away or make any trouble. I ken ye had Calum follow me, and I appreciate that ye’re still lookin’ out for me, but I willnae do anythin’ that keeps yer men from lookin’ for Reid or dealin’ with O’Gunn.
I willnae risk anythin’ for the people here. Ye have me word on that.”
“What’s gotten into ye?” Archer asked.
“What do ye mean?” She frowned.
“I ken ye arenae inclined to make trouble on purpose, and ye’ve proven that ye care about right and wrong, but something has changed. Usually, ye would stand afore me all defiant, but ye stand here now like a meek mouse.”
“I’m nae a meek mouse!” Eileen snapped.
Archer’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “Ah, there ye are!”
“I’m tryin’ to be pleasant here, and ye mock me?” Eileen scoffed.
“Nay, I’m nae mockin’ ye, lass. Ye’re different as ye stand afore me, that’s true, but it’s nae a bad thing.”
Eileen shifted her weight from foot to foot and looked down at the floor as if she were about to cry.
Who did this to ye?
He stepped into her space so he could be closer to her. “Something’s troublin’ ye. Tell me what it is.”
Eileen sighed and looked up at him. For the first time since they’d met, his thoughts didn’t stray to carnal pleasures. He wanted to know who had hurt her and how he could make it right.
“I spoke with yer sister,” she admitted.
“Och, she often says things she doesnae mean,” he told her. “Dinnae pay her any mind. She likely didnae mean what she said.”
“Nay, she was so kind to me and made me feel a hundred times better. It’s just… when this comes to an end, she’ll be distraught. So will yer maither. I like Ivy, and I want to get to ken her better, but I cannae get close to her kennin’ that this will all end.”
Archer sighed. “Aye, I ken. I ken, and I ken it’ll hurt, but it has to be done.”
He wanted to talk to her more. She understood the very thing he’d felt for the past six years. He couldn’t let himself get close to someone only to see them taken from him, just like his father.
Under different circumstances, he might have gone through with the wedding, and he was sure Eileen would make a fine wife, but she would complicate his life more than most women.
His marriage to her would forever be a slight against O’Gunn, putting both of them at more risk. He wouldn’t let the past repeat itself.
“Bein’ a laird is about makin’ the hard decisions,” Archer continued. “I ken ye dread what’s to come, but it’ll be temporary. We have to make the most of what is temporary. That’s all we can do.”
Eileen’s eyes flickered down to his lips for the briefest second, and he saw something in her gaze.
He thought the same thing. There was necessary pain, but there were also ways to manage that pain, and pleasure was one of them.
When she looked back up, she flushed, caught in the act.
Saints, would ye just look at that lovely pink blooming across her cheeks?
“Is it true that ye’re a rake?” she asked, a bite in her voice now.
He thought about teasing her, asking her if she was jealous, but he answered simply, “Aye. And I’m nae ashamed of it. And neither are the women who’ve lain with me.”
Eileen bit her lip unconsciously, and his hands instantly itched to grab her.
He leaned in closer, murmuring in that low, sinful brogue that never failed to make women shiver, “I’ve never had any complaints, and I dinnae foresee any.
Of course, with our recent betrothal, I cannae be seen with any other women except ye, or else people might talk. I only want them talkin’ about us.”
Eileen swallowed hard, breathing heavily. She looked into his eyes, and he saw exactly what she wanted, even though she wouldn’t admit it.
“I… I came to ask about Reid,” she mumbled.
Archer straightened slightly but stayed close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes.
“I have news,” he said, his voice softening. “I have reason to believe that he never crossed into MacLennan lands.”
Her face fell.
Such a precious thing.
“But,” he continued quickly, “I figured that if O’Gunn has him, he will keep him alive because he’s too valuable of a pawn.”
Her lips parted on a silent breath, her worry plain.
“I’ll find him,” Archer promised earnestly. “Before O’Gunn can use him against ye.”
Eileen stared at him, and something raw and tender passed between them.
Without thinking, Archer reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. She leaned into his touch.
A small yet devastating move.
He didn’t even realize he was kissing her until he pulled back, gasping for air.
It started out soft. A whisper. A breath. A kiss that quickly deepened into something wild and frenzied.
Eileen’s hands fisted in the front of his tunic, dragging him closer with such force despite her size. Archer groaned low in his throat, wrapping an arm tight around her waist, the other cupping the back of her head.
She tasted like mint and honeyed tea—sweet and fresh and utterly intoxicating. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened to him with a soft, desperate sound that drove every rational thought out of his mind.
Their bodies pressed together, no air between them. Archer slowly backed her up against the stone wall, never breaking the kiss, deepening it until she was gasping into his mouth.
He nipped her swollen bottom lip, soothed it with his tongue, and then devoured her again, hungry and reverent all at once.
When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard.
“Ye will be the death of me, lass,” he rasped.
Her fingers tightened in his shirt. “Do ye promise?”
He laughed low, the sound rumbling between them, and kissed her again. This time, it was softer and slower. A silent promise. An unspoken reply.
Tucking her against his side, he led her back through the corridors to her chambers, but not before he had his fun first.
“Ye do realize that ye walk like a wee duckling when ye are lost,” he teased, bumping her lightly with his shoulder.
Eileen gasped in mock outrage. “I do nae!”
“Och, ye do,” he said with a wicked grin. “All stiff-legged and furious, as if the ground offends ye.”
“Mayhap it does,” she shot back, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Walkin’ beside a brute like ye would make any ground weep.”
He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “Is that right? Ye wound me, lass.”
“Ye deserve it,” she said, sticking her nose in the air, though the corners of her mouth twitched.
“Aye, perhaps,” he conceded, flashing her a grin. “But I’d rather suffer yer scorn than be denied yer company.”
She blushed again. “Ye and that silver tongue of yers. I’m surprised nay one has been sent to cut it out of yer tiny head.”
“Only for ye, lass,” he drawled, winking shamelessly.
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her lips.
“Tell me, Lady Eileen,” he said, tilting his head mischievously, “are ye always so easily charmed?”
“Only by men who ken where I sleep,” she retorted boldly.
He barked a laugh. “Careful, lass. A challenge like that might have consequences.”
“Promises, promises,” she intoned, but regret flashed across her face when her eyes connected with his. With that wicked glint.
She quickly looked away and glanced around. Her steps slowed, and Archer followed her lead.
“I’m turned around,” she muttered, frustration creeping into her tone.
He bit back a grin. “Are ye now?”
She stopped, her hands on her hips. “Ye are laughin’ at me.”
“Aye,” he said, unrepentant. “Ye are fierce in a fight, but turn a few corners and ye are as lost as a lamb.”
She glared at him, her cheeks pink. “If ye dinnae escort me to me chambers, I will curse ye.”
He turned, still smiling, and reached for the door beside him. Without looking, he pushed it open, revealing her chambers.
Eileen gaped at him, suspicion blooming across her features. “How did ye—?”
He leaned casually against the doorframe, heat spreading through his body. “I ken exactly where ye sleep, lass.”
The look she gave him made his core tighten punishingly.
Go, before ye do somethin’ we will both regret.
“See ye at dinner, Lady Eileen,” he murmured, stepping back and shutting the door firmly.
And only then, with the wood solid and cool against his forehead, did he finally allow himself a shaky breath. But only one.
Duty called.
He strode down the dim corridors of the keep, his boots thudding dully against the worn stone until he reached the heavy door of his study.