Chapter 27
Archer lay in his bed with Eileen in his arms. Her head rested on his chest, while her index finger twisted in his chest hair. He had one arm wrapped around her, his hand stroking her shoulder and the other tucked under his head.
The blankets only came up to their waists, leaving their upper bodies bare.
The night was not warm, but what they’d just done had warmed their bodies just fine. When the sweat on his brow dried and he grew cold, he would pull up the blankets and wrap his body around her before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
“I ken I’ve said it a dozen times, but ye do things to me that nay other woman can,” he murmured.
“And ye can tell me that a hundred times more because I’ll never tire of hearin’ it,” she replied.
Archer hadn’t wanted this before. When he’d bedded women, he had only wanted to fall asleep after in the hope they would see themselves out before he had to ask them to leave. What point was there in anything more when the deed was done?
But there was something about the way Eileen’s body fit against his and the way he felt with her that caused him to linger.
Perhaps it was the time they had spent together, but he would miss her when she was gone. He’d never missed a woman before. Still, there was always a first time for everything.
A part of him wondered what it would be like if she stayed. It was not what he planned, but there was a benefit to having her around, and that could continue. Yet he knew he could not let it happen.
He’d lived six years mourning his father and blaming himself, and even after what Mack said, he still blamed himself. He couldn’t take the risk. He couldn’t endure years of suffering if something happened to her.
He’d put her in far too much danger already, and that wouldn’t stop. As the lady of the castle, she’d always be in danger. And what about after that? She’d want children, and he’d need an heir, and there would be more people who could get hurt.
“I liked bein’ by the river with ye, but there’s somethin’ more soothin’ about being in yer chambers,” Eileen suddenly said.
“Less chance of gettin’ caught with our trousers down.”
Eileen looked up at him, her features soft, her eyes doe-like. “I didnae even think about it until after. When we were makin’ love, I couldnae think about anythin’ else, and it was only when I was puttin’ on me dress that I realized anyone could have stumbled upon us. They would have been shocked.”
“They might have liked it,” Archer suggested.
“I wouldnae have.”
“Then it’s a good thing we were all alone, and it’s a good thing we’re all alone now.”
Eileen rubbed a hand up and down his chest. “Aye, it is.”
The cool night air seeped through the window. The moon was full outside, providing enough light for them to see by in the darkness. Archer was famished, but nothing would drag him away from Eileen, not even—
A scream rang out from somewhere in the castle. It came from far away, distant enough not to be loud, but it was unmistakably a scream.
They both sat up in bed. Archer turned his ear toward the door. There were no more screams, but muffled shouts came from the other end of the castle.
“Stay here,” he muttered. “Dinnae leave this room.”
“I want to come with ye.”
“Nay,” he said. “Whatever it is, it’s happenin’ elsewhere in the castle. I dinnae need ye runnin’ toward it.”
He leaped out of bed and snatched his clothes from the floor.
Underwear first, then trousers, shirt, socks, boots, and his sword.
He darted to the bed and kissed Eileen before running for the door.
He opened it, took one last look at her, and then closed it.
He pulled a large key out of his pocket and locked the door.
“Here!” he shouted to the two guards. “Nay one but me goes in and out. Do ye understand?”
“Aye, Me Laird,” they said in unison.
Archer nodded, then took off, his boots thudding down the hallway.
When he descended the stairs to the first floor, the shouts grew louder, and as he hurried through the passageway that led to the healer’s chambers, it grew brighter as if the sun had risen for only a part of the castle.
It became warmer too, as if the sun was shining directly on him.
When he rounded the corner, he saw the source of the heat.
The healer’s chambers were on fire. More shouts rang out as the guards, the servants, and the healer tried to juggle the buckets of water that were being passed down the passageway to the room.
The screams mingled, barely rising above the cacophony of footsteps on stone. One by one, the buckets were brought, and the water was thrown to douse the flames.
Archer got as close as possible before the heat became too intense. He grabbed the healer by the arm and pulled her aside.
“What happened?” he shouted.
“I dinnae ken,” she shouted back. “One minute I was sleepin’, and the next I was chokin’ on smoke. I dinnae ken how the fire started.”
“I ken why,” Archer barked. “They were tryin’ to kill Reid. Did someone get him out?”
“Nay!” the healer squeaked. “That’s what we’re tryin’ to do now. I had to get out meself, but if we can douse the flames enough, we can go in there and pull him out.”
Archer’s heart sank. Not only for the information that would be lost if Reid didn’t make it out of the room, but also for the loss Eileen would feel. He knew she would feel it as intensely as he had when his father died.
“Douse me!” he shouted.
“What?” the healer sputtered.
“Douse me! It’ll take too long to manage the flames. I’m goin’ in there and bringin’ him out.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s nae a suggestion,” he warned. “It’s an order.”
The healer stood silent for a second—too long, given the circumstances—before she turned to the nearby servants.
“Dump the water on the Laird. We need to get him as wet as possible!” she ordered. “Come on, quick as ye can.”
No one wasted a beat. The line of water buckets was diverted, and instead of being poured on the flames, they were poured on Archer. By the fourth bucket, he became restless and darted to the door.
The water on him turned to steam as he got close, and he realized he was moving too slowly.
He ran into the flames without giving it a second thought and found himself in the smoke-filled room.
Heat assaulted him from all around, stabbing at him like red-hot pokers.
He couldn’t see his own hand before him.
He went by memory, stepping to where the bed should be, then bent down and searched for Reid. He felt a warm body and quickly picked him up.
“I’m sorry to do this to ye,” he said.
It would hurt them both, but if he remained in the room any longer, they would both die. He threw Reid over his shoulder and ran back the way he had come, his shoulder bumping against the doorframe as he burst into the passageway.
“Back to the Laird!” the healer shouted.
Water was poured on him and Reid, and he felt the heat recede slightly. When they stopped, a chill ran through him, but his face and hands still felt on fire.
He stumbled forward, pulling Reid further away from the smoke before placing him down and propping him against the wall.
The healer ran to them, crouching down beside Reid and placing her hand on his neck.
“He’s still alive.” She sighed in relief. “Ye saved his life.”
Eileen lay in bed, trying to listen to the sounds in the castle. Whatever was happening was still happening, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. All she knew was that she’d been locked in the room and there were guards outside the door who’d been ordered not to let her out.
Still, she felt vulnerable. She got out of bed and picked up her clothes—her long skirt and tunic, boots, and shawl. She got dressed, then retrieved her dirk, sheath, and belt from the chair, wrapping them around her waist and buckling them at the side.
She didn’t know how much help the dirk would be, with whatever was going on, but she felt safer with it. She pulled her cloak over the dirk to conceal it.
If the weapon is a surprise, it’s as good as an extra strike when ye wield it.
That’s what Archer had told her when they had trained one morning. She shifted her cloak a little to ensure that her dirk was well-hidden.
She looked around the room. She had only been in his bedchamber twice, but there must be another way out.
She went to the wardrobe and opened it, but it was all it was—a wardrobe. She pressed her hand to the back and pushed in case it was a secret door, but it was to no avail. Then, she went to the window to look out, but she was two floors up, and there was nothing to hang onto outside.
She sat down on the bed, resigned to her fate: she was locked in the room until Archer returned.
He did, eventually. The guards outside greeted him, and then he spoke. Only, the voice she heard wasn’t his. She didn’t recognize it.
She heard a grunt and a thud, followed by a shout, another grunt, and a second thud. Something scratched at the door, and Eileen bolted to the wall beside it to conceal herself. The lock clicked as it was picked, and the door creaked open slowly.
Eileen held her breath as she saw a blade point past the door first, followed by a large, hairy hand, then a forearm, then a man.
She froze for a second. For all her training, it was one thing to go up against a hay dummy and another to fight a man. A man she knew.
That also delayed her reaction. Her brain couldn’t join the sounds when the door was closed to the face that appeared before her. She couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out whether he was there to attack her or help her.
“Ye’re comin’ with me,” he ordered in a menacing tone.
Before he could take another step, she pulled the dirk from under her shawl and brought it up just like Archer had taught her, driving the blade into his shoulder before yanking it back.
The man cried out in pain, but before she could stab him a second time, he swung the back of his hand and struck her across the cheek. The dirk flew from her grasp as she stumbled back against the wall and hit her head. She fell to the ground with a thump.
“Ye’ll pay for that,” he growled.
The man bent down beside her and quickly bound her hands, before stuffing a cloth in her mouth and tying a strip of fabric around it to keep it there. He yanked her up and stepped to the door to look out into the hallway.
Eileen’s head spun as he dragged her out of the room. She tried to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t move. And even if it did, she was gagged.
She tried to fight against him, but she was too dazed. She wanted to call out for Archer, but it was too late.
“O’Gunn’s been wantin’ to have a wee chat with ye,” the man hissed. “Ye and yer family have been causin’ a lot of trouble.”