Chapter 8
“Good mornin’!”
Layla’s drawn out, sing-song greeting was the first thing River heard that morning, followed by the sound of curtains opening.
Even before she managed to peel her eyes open, the light almost blinded her.
It seemed that it was going to be another rare, sunny day, and she couldn’t help but wonder when the storm would come.
When she opened her eyes and sat up on the bed, her dark hair an unruly tangle around her head, the first thing she saw was Layla flitting about the room, getting her clothes and washbasin ready.
How long has she been awake to be so cheerful?
Layla was brighter than the morning sunlight, humming to herself as she worked.
By the time River managed to drag herself out of bed, Layla had already finished all her tasks and worked on getting her ready for the day, dressing her and combing her hair.
When she was done, River could hardly recognize herself in the looking-glass.
Where her hair was often a mess that needed to be combed again and again, only to be tangled again the moment she stepped out of the room, now it was pulled into a beautiful, intricate updo that none of her previous maids had been able to create.
“How did ye do that?” River asked, amazed by Layla’s skill.
“I told ye, me lady, I have many siblings,” Layla said. “I used to do this for me sisters all the time. I’m the oldest, ye see, and every time they wanted me to do their hair—”
A knock on the door stopped Layla before River could, though River was certain she could have kept talking forever. When she called for the visitor to come in, the door opened to reveal Arya and Colby, who rushed to her and hugged her, followed by Finlay.
Finlay was anything but a morning man, but he seemed to be just as restless as Layla every single morning. River could only assume that the man slept early and woke early, but whenever she was awake, he was somehow always around.
“Ach, ye wee rascals!” River said, ruffling Colby’s hair. The gesture gave her an idea immediately, and she turned to Layla. “Layla, could ye do Arya’s hair, as well?”
“Why, of course, me lady!” said Layla with the sort of excitement usually reserved for far more interesting tasks. River stood from the chair and Layla pulled Arya into it, running her fingers through her long, dark hair. “Such a bonnie lassie! What do ye want?”
“I want River’s style,” said Arya, and River’s heart melted just a little more.
As Layla worked on Arya’s hair—something they had both inherited from their father—River sat on the bed and occupied herself with Colby.
No matter how much she tried to focus on their clapping game, though, thoughts of the previous night kept popping into her mind—how Archer had spoken to her, how he had touched her so intimately, how he had assured her that he was attracted to her.
The more she thought about it, the more flustered she became, until her cheeks were flaming with the memory.
“Are ye alright, me lady?” Layla asked, and when River looked at her, she found her staring at her with worry.
“A-aye!” said River, stumbling over her own words. “Why wouldnae I be?”
“Ye’re red all over.”
“Och aye, so ye are,” said Finlay. “Are ye feverish?”
“I’m fine!” River shrieked, and then took a deep breath. “I was simply thinkin’...last night, the Laird came to me chambers and we spoke for a long time.”
“Och, isnae that wonderful!” said Layla. “It’s always good to see young couples talk...truly talk. Did ye talk about bairns? Will ye have any soon?”
It was an innocent enough question. After all, everyone expected the Laird and the lady to have an heir, if not multiple. And yet that question was what made River realize what had been bugging her all along.
Archer did want to have a child with her now.
But the only reason he wanted a child was so that he could have an heir, someone to step into his shoes if something happened to him.
There was no real sentiment behind it. There was no love, there was no real desire for a child; only for a pawn.
He was trying to seduce her just so he could secure his clan.
And then there was another problem. After everything that had happened with her mother, River didn’t feel worthy of having children of her own. She had failed to protect so many other children; who was to say she could protect her own?
No matter what, River wouldn’t give Archer the satisfaction—or the heir he so desperately needed.
“I daenae wish for bairns,” she said. “I understand it’s me duty but I willnae have them.”
Layla turned to her with a confused frown. “Why is that?”
River didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t want to reveal the truth to anyone, especially to someone she didn’t know so well.
Layla probably meant well and she was nothing but a sweet girl.
If there was even the slightest chance she would use this against River or the clan, though, she didn’t want to share the truth.
“Well, I have Arya and Colby, right?” River pointed out. “I daenae need anyone else.”
Arya and Colby beamed at her, and Colby fell into her arms. Then, he looked up at her and asked, “River...how are bairns made?”
Instantly, Finlay almost choked on his own spit as he tried to suppress his laughter.
Thankfully, River didn’t have to answer that question, as there was a knock on the door, and in walked a servant to announce that Archer had requested her presence in the Great Hall.
The moment the announcement was made, River glanced at Finlay, and they both wore the same look of concern on their faces.
What could he want?
“I’ll come with ye,” said Finlay immediately, which was no surprise for anyone.
Whoever River went, Finlay followed, and she was glad for it—especially now that she didn’t know what Archer could possibly want.
He wouldn’t dare do something to her in front of everyone in the Great Hall, she was certain of it.
And yet, Finlay’s presence by her side as they walked there was the only thing that kept her calm.
Just as she was about to reach the great doors that separated the Great Hall from the rest of the castle, Archer appeared before her like an apparition, and River cursed under her breath. The man was like a shadow when he wanted to be, appearing and disappearing seemingly out of thin air.
“Me Laird,” Finlay greeted him with a bow. “We heard our lady was to be summoned to the Great Hall.”
Archer’s eyes narrowed when Finlay was the one to do the talking. “Aye,” he said. “I called for her.”
“Could we ken why?”
Archer didn’t respond to Finlay’s question, as if he was trying to make a statement with his silence—I willnae speak to ye. I will only speak to me wife. His gaze turned to River and she had to fight the urge to shrink under it, to feel like a scolded child.
“I heard that ye sent away two of our maids,” he said, and River wondered if she was in deep trouble for doing so.
She had only done what she thought was right, but could she explain that to Archer? Could she make him understand how cruelly they had treated Layla right in front of her eyes? Or would he simply not care at all?
She decided right then and there that it didn’t matter. She was the Lady of the Clan, and though many seemed to have forgotten it—including herself—she had every right to do what she thought was best for the household.
She wasn’t afraid to defend her actions.
“Aye, I did,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance as she prepared to listen to whatever lecture was to follow. “They were both mean and cruel, and the castle is better off without them.”
Archer gave her a curious look, as if he hadn’t expected this reaction. He hummed softly, as if to himself, tilting his head to the side like a curious owl as he regarded her.
“As I understand it, ye werenae involvin’ yerself in household matters up until now,” he said. “At least this is what everyone has told me here.”
It was only natural that Archer had received reports on everything she did and didn’t do around the castle, but the knowledge that people were talking behind her back about her left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Had she let everyone down by never participating in the daily matters of the household?
Did everyone consider her a useless Lady of the Clan?
It wouldn’t surprise her. But those people didn’t know what happened behind closed doors.
No matter how fast gossip traveled in a castle, Archer would never let anyone know things that could put him into a disadvantaged position—including the fact that he refused to have an heir with his wife and barely ever even saw her.
People had their theories; of course they did. None of them dared speak them out loud.
“It’s true,” River admitted. “I wasnae very involved, but I couldnae stand back and watch as they were insultin’ the poor lass. She had done naethin’ wrong and I stand by me decision to send them away.”
She wasn’t going to show any weakness in front of Archer or the other people around them—the clansmen and women who had been walking about, now pretending they weren’t lingering by the Great Hall just to listen to them, the guards, the maids and servants that milled about.
If Archer wanted to scold her for this, he could do as he pleased; River would stand her ground.
“Have ye changed yer mind, then?” Arche asked. “About nay bein’ involved?”
River wasn’t sure how to answer that question, and so she hesitated for a long time. She wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of taking care of the entire household. She had only tried to save one girl from the harassment she was receiving, but she didn’t know why Archer was asking.
“Come with me,” Archer said when she didn’t respond.
River glanced over her shoulder at Finlay, who took a step closer to her, his hand drifting to his sword.
It was a bad habit, and one that she had tried to expel from him, but he found some comfort in the hilt of his blade, in the shape of it in his hand, as if he knew that as long as his sword was there, there was nothing to worry about.
As Archer spoke, he turned on his heel and took the few steps to the doors of the Great Hall.
Even from outside, River could hear voices drifting through the crack under the door, and it sounded to her as if there were many people behind it—too many, in fact, for the crowd she was used to in the castle.
At the wave of Archer’s hand, two guards who were standing before the doors opened them—only to reveal a large crowd of people, most of them merchants and peasants, all of them loud as they waited.
It took River a few moments to realize why she had been summoned, but as she stared at the crowd, it dawned on her.
She was the Lady of the Clan. And she was there to listen to her people.