Chapter 17 #2
Archer’s hands were frantically moving over her body, searching for an injury.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out at first. Her pulse was fluttering visibly at her neck, and a sweat broke out along her brow.
The room spun around him.
Oh God, please help her. What is happenin’?
“I—” she started to say, but it came out more like a gasp. “It’s Mack!” she nearly screamed.
Calum was inside the room in less than a second.
“What?” Archer asked, his eyes wild, still searching for an injury but also flickering with confusion. At the foot of his bed, Calum stood still.
“Archer,” was all he heard his man-at-arms say, and it was all he needed to feel a sense of calm wash over him.
“I’m goin’ to be ill,” Eileen moaned, sitting up suddenly with her arms outstretched.
Archer instinctively tore the plant on a nearby table from its pot and placed it in her hands. She retched into it, heaving and gasping. Tears rolled down her face.
“The healer,” Calum said.
Archer nodded firmly.
Figuring out what Eileen meant by “It’s Mack” was going to have to wait. He stood next to Calum and watched as the healer and her assistant got to work, cooling her down and tending to her.
“Archer,” Calum muttered, motioning for him to follow.
The two men walked out of the bedchamber and sat opposite each other in front of the hearth.
“Mack?” Calum asked.
“I have nay idea what she meant by it. I hadnae asked her anything; just wondered what happened.”
“Is she sayin’ that Mack is the cause of her illness?”
“I sure hope nae, but I dinnae ken. I need him under lock and key until I ken for sure.”
“Is that wise?” Calum asked. “He’s a councilman. If we lock him up without any evidence of wrongdoing, it will set the wrong tone.”
“Aye, ye’re right,” Archer conceded. “Have him watched closely.”
“We found Harold McDoon,” Calum said sadly.
“Aye?”
“He didnae go home after the funeral. Looks like he went out into the woods and hung himself from a tree.”
“Och, nay.” Archer rubbed his forehead. “That makes it three deaths.”
“He must be the one behind the forge accident,” Calum concluded. “Probably the one who killed yer guard. We willnae get anythin’ out of him now.”
“That’s fortunate or unfortunate dependin’ on what he might have said.”
“What are ye sayin’?” Calum asked.
“I’m sayin’ that it’s a little too neat.
I talk about gettin’ vengeance, and right after, we’re gifted the supposed perpetrator.
I want ye to keep yer eyes and ears to the ground, but do it under the guise of us havin’ our man.
I dinnae believe this is the end, and I want them to get nice and comfortable so they dinnae see us comin’. ”
“Aye,” he said, then left immediately to carry out his duties.
Archer waited until the healer emerged from his bedchamber.
“Me Laird, I believe she only had a fright. She is stable and well now, but I recommend rest. She will need to be watched just in case she has another fit.”
“She will remain here. I’ll watch her,” he declared firmly.
The healer nodded and left the room.
The door closed with a soft click, sealing the two of them away from the world. The moment it did, he went to her. Her small frame was swallowed nearly whole by the layers of blankets and bedding around her, and he smiled at the sight.
Eileen’s eyes fluttered open, and she sat up slightly.
Archer sat next to her on the bed. “Are ye well, lass?”
He watched the blush creep onto her cheeks as she nodded bashfully.
“Ye have nothin’ to be ashamed of. Can I get ye anythin’?”
“Nay, nothin’,” Eileen said quickly before rubbing her temples with her thumbs and middle fingers. “Just—I need to tell ye… but it…”
“Gently now,” Archer soothed, lowering his voice. “Ye can tell me anything, Eileen. I swear it.”
Her brown eyes rose to his, wide and luminous in the low firelight.
“It’s Mack,” she said again, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. “I finally remember where I ken him from.”
Archer’s spine stiffened slightly, and his blood turned to ice as he remembered the odd interaction she and Mack had in front of the council room and then tonight.
“He was there,” she continued, her voice gaining strength as the words tumbled free. “The night Piper and I snuck into yer lands.”
“I remember the tavern, but he wasnae there, lass.”
“It was before that. We were in the woods. Smugglers. Near Branloch. I heard his voice and his laugh. I remember it. I swear it on me life, I do. It’s him.”
For a long moment, the room was utterly silent.
“Ye’re sure it was him?” Archer asked.
“It was him,” Eileen replied defiantly. “If I ken one thing, I ken that. Ye have me word and that of me family.”
“Did ye see what he was smugglin’?” Archer asked.
“I remember the clangin’ metal as they moved the crates. I’d bet me life it was swords.”
“Swords from me own smithy,” Archer said, aghast. “Is that why a man’s dead? Did he catch wind of the scheme? I should have ignored Calum and locked Mack up in the dungeons.”
He inhaled slowly through his nose, the sound more a growl than a breath. His fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body tightening. Coiling. Like a bowstring drawn to its limit.
The urge to storm out, to find Mack, to gut the treacherous bastard where he stood, shot through his veins.
“I need to go,” he spat.
Eileen leaned against his large pillows and placed a soft hand on his heated forearm. “Please,” she whispered, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. “I didnae tell ye so ye would get yerself killed. I told ye because I care about ye and trust that ye will ken the right way to handle it.”
Aye, his head on a spike on the outer wall of the keep.
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing her in. Her lavender soap and that unique scent that was just… her. When he opened them again, his fury did not abate.
“Aye,” he muttered. “I’ll handle it. Proper. He willnae be actin’ alone, and if Calum has eyes on him, he might lead us to others.”
He brought her hand up to his chest, trapping it there. The feel of her fingers trembling under his palm did something to him—stripped away his armor, left him bare and aching.
“Ye were brave to tell me. Is that why ye—”
Her mouth curled into a small, wobbly smile. “I just about fainted. I was panickin’.”
He chuckled low in his throat—a dark and tired sound—and without thinking, he drew her closer to him. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her up to straddle his thighs.
He could feel the erratic pounding of her heart through the thin fabric between them. Could smell the sweet scent in the hollow at the base of her throat. Could see the way her lashes fluttered when she lifted her gaze to his.
The urge to kiss her again, to taste her and lose himself in her, slammed into him with terrifying force. But he fought back… barely.
Eileen tilted her chin up and said, “Stay.”
His breath shuddered out of him, his core tightening. He didn’t trust himself. Didn’t trust that in the next few moments, he would not pin her to the bed and take her. However, he knew that he would never hurt her and never take more than she was willing to give.
So, he reached out and cupped her cheek in his calloused palm. “I’ll stay,” he rasped.
At least for a while…