Chapter 10
Three days had passed. Three days since her husband had kissed her for the second time, and River couldn’t take her mind off the entire ordeal. Every day, she spent the majority of her time lost in her own thoughts, in her own little world, in a way she had never done before.
Up until then, she had made sure to keep her days filled with other things, with other people.
She had made sure to spend all her time with the children, with Finlay, keeping busy to distract herself from the reality of her marriage and her position as a Lady of the Clan who had nothing of importance to do.
But now, it was impossible to keep her thoughts from drifting back to Archer, no matter who she was with, no matter what she was doing.
Look at me, Archer had told her. The way I am now.
He had looked at her too, for what was probably the first time.
That gaze, that sharp, piercing gaze had etched itself in her mind.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his.
Every time she remembered the heat of his lips, she was plunged once again in the depths of this newfound passion she had developed for him
And she didn’t know what to do with it.
“What’s the matter with ye?”
Finlay’s voice startled River out of her thoughts.
She turned to look at him where he was leaning against the wall under the eastern awning, bathed in the midday light.
He looked younger there, his graying hair shining in golden hues.
Even the concern in his features wasn’t enough to age him, though it was palpable.
River hummed; a questioning, noncommittal sound. She didn’t know how to answer that question. Saying it was nothing would be a blatant lie and one that he would easily discover, but telling him the truth certainly wasn’t an option.
“I’m only...considerin’ things,” she said vaguely.
“What things?”
“Things.”
“What things?”
Finlay could be relentless, and in that moment, River understood he would not let it go.
River remained silent. If she gave him no response, he couldn’t claim she was lying to him. Giving him no response, though, didn’t mean that he would simply drop the matter.
Finlay approached River where she sat on a stone bench near a towering Scots pine, green like the emerald she wore around her neck.
Arya and Colby were chasing each other nearby, in the gardens, rushing through the rosebushes and the blooming heathers, the fragrance of the buds sticking to their skin.
If she was going to open up to him about this, now would be the time, but River didn’t have it in her to tell him the truth.
If anything, that would make him worry even more.
“If ye cannae handle this anymore,” Finlay said in a whisper, so that only she could hear him, “I will do anythin’ it takes to get ye out of here. I promise ye. Anythin’ at all.”
“Finlay—”
“I will lay down me life for ye, I swear it,” he said, looking at her right in the eye.
“If that’s what it takes, that’s what I’ll do.”
“Finlay,” River tried again, shaking her head with a soft sigh. “While I appreciate that, it willnae be necessary.”
“I swore to yer maither I would protect ye,” Finlay insisted, and River could have sworn that his breath hitched and his words were choked off, even for the briefest of moments, as if he was so overtaken by grief that he could hardly speak.
It struck her as odd; Finlay had been her guard from birth, and so it was only natural that he had spent plenty of time near her mother, but she had never thought of him as someone who would be so torn up by her death.
Perhaps he was much more emotional than she gave him credit for. Perhaps her mother’s death had affected her more than she could ever imagine.
River reached out and grabbed his hand, holding it in a tight grip. “I ken that,” she assured him. “I ken it, Finlay. And I thank ye for it but there’s naethin’ to protect me from. I promise ye, I am fine. I simply have much on me mind these days.”
Finlay didn’t seem too convinced, but then again, he never did.
He was a suspicious man by nature and that meant that River could hardly ever hide anything from him.
Even though he wanted to press on–River could tell from the thin press of his lips, as if he was physically restraining himself from saying more–he said nothing else.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “But ye ken where to find me when ye need me.”
When...nae if.
“Aye, I do,” said River. “Right next to me.”
Finlay snorted softly, her words amusing him, and River couldn’t help but smile.
Sometimes she was stifled by his overprotectiveness, thinking herself too old for such surveillance and protection, but now she could only consider herself lucky to have someone who cared so much for her as to devote his entire life to the task of keeping her safe.
She couldn’t help but think of him as more like a father than her own father had been.
With a groan, Finlay sat next to her on the bench, watching the children play in silence for a while.
“Ye come out here more often now,” he said idly, as if trying to start a casual conversation. River, though, knew it for what it was: yet another attempt to get the truth out of her. Only this time, she had a real–and true–answer for him.
“Aye,” she said. “It’s because of Layla.”
“Layla?” asked Finlay with a small frown. “What of her?”
As if summoned by the sound of her name, Layla appeared around the bend in the narrow, snaking stone path that led to the gardens from the front gates of the castle.
Along with her intricate braid, decorated with a single bright pink flower, she was sporting a bright smile as she rushed towards River, waving wildly at her, a basket full of pastries swinging by her hip.
“Ach, I see,” said Finlay. “Ye made a friend.”
River couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. “Ye make it sound like I’m twelve.”
Finlay chuckled softly. “Well, I think it’s a good thing.” When River gave him a suspicious look, he added, “I truly do. It’s been a year and ye spent it all with me and the bairns.”
“Ye say that like it’s a bad thing,” said River.
“It’s nae,” said Finlay with a small shrug. “But it’s good to have someone...someone like ye in yer life.”
“Like me?”
“A lassie,” Finlay clarified. “Someone to whom ye can talk about...certain things.”
This time, River didn’t ask for clarification. She knew what it was Finlay meant and her cheeks instantly flamed with embarrassment. The last thing she wanted was for him to be discussing such things with her.
“This isnae what’s been on me mind!” she said, the words coming out in a shriek.
Finlay raised his hands up as if in surrender. “Never said it was.”
“Then danae mention it!”
“I didnae mention anythin’.”
“I’ve only been thinkin’ about the bairns!”
“I’m sure,” said Finlay, if only to placate her.
River snapped her mouth shut before she could incriminate herself even further. The more she spoke, she thought, the worse it was.
“I’ll leave ye two to talk,” said Finlay as he pushed himself up and off the bench.
“There’s naethin’ to talk about!” River told him.
“I’m sure,” said Finlay once more, in that conspiratorial, infuriating tone of his.
“There isnae!” River insisted, but he was already walking away, waving his hand at her.
Cheeks burning, River sat there, her arms crossed in front of her chest as Finlay walked away and Layla approached.
As their paths met, Finlay bowed his head in greeting and Layla gave him one of her awkward, endearing curtsies.
When she reached River, she stopped short and looked at her, eyes narrowing.
“Are ye alright, me lady?”
“I wish people would stop askin’ me that,” said River with a sigh, before she gave Layla a small, tired smile. “Aye, I’m alright.”
Layla peered at her for a moment longer, then plopped herself down on the bench next to her, where Finlay had been sitting only moments prior.
“Well, ye’re about to be even better,” Layla announced confidently as she pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to River. Upon closer inspection, it was not a piece of paper, but rather a letter–one stamped with her brother’s seal.
Of course Layla had assumed this would be a joyous event for River. Who wouldn’t want to hear from their brother? But River blanched, the color draining from her face; something Layla noticed immediately.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “What is it?”
“Naethin’,” said River, shaking her head viciously as she shoved the letter in her pocket–unopened as always.
Layla hesitated. When she spoke, her voice was soft, bird-like. “Will ye nae open it?”
River shook her head but said nothing. The letter in her pocket was like a stone, weighing her down. She wanted nothing more than to rid herself of it, to place it in that drawer along with every other letter her brother had sent her, but she couldn’t find a good enough reason to excuse herself.
Sometimes, she wondered what her brother was writing in those letters. Sometimes the curiosity became almost unbearable. Still, it never outweighed her reluctance to read his words–to know the truth.
“Do ye want me to open it?” Layla asked. “I couldnae tell ye what it says but I could open it for ye.”
Laughter bubbled out of River at that despite herself. “I suppose that’s the most challengin’ part, truly.”
Leaning closer and placing a hand on River’s shoulder, gentle and comforting, Layla asked, “Is it?”
River nodded soundlessly. A knot seemed to have formed in her throat that prevented her from saying a single word. Though she parted her lips as if to speak, nothing came out.
“I see,” said Layla. “Ye daenae have to tell me. I have brothers, too.”
Another laugh bubbled out of River, soft, almost humorless. This time, she found her voice. “It isnae me brother,” she said. “At least...I daenae ken. Sometimes I’m afraid it is me brother and sometimes I think he couldnae be what I fear he might be.”
Once those words had been spoken, it was as if a dam had opened up inside her and she could no longer keep everything bottled up.
She had kept all her worries to herself for so long.
She had let them fester inside her, settle like poison in her stomach, and the relief of sharing this with another person was so big that River was on the verge of tears by the end of it.
She told Layla everything–how her mother had murdered that poor woman, how she had then taken in Arya and Colby, how she feared her brother either blamed her for their mother’s death or had taken part in her atrocities, and so she couldn’t bring herself to open any of his letters but rather shoved them all in a drawer and tried to forget about them.
By the time she was done with her story, Layla was looking at her with her mouth agape.
“Och,” Layla finally managed. “I’m sorry, me lady. That is...that is truly awful. I didnae ken ye had been through so much.”
River took a trembling breath, her entire body shaking with the release of every emotion she had clung to for so long. The relief was great, yes, but so was the worry once again, the thought that all her fears would come true.
For a while, the two of them sat side by side in silence, Layla clearly shaken by everything she had heard.
River couldn’t blame her; it was a lot for one to bear and apart from those closest to her, no one else knew the full truth.
Layla was the first person to whom she had said all this, the first person who shared this burden with her.
Now that she was finding the calm after the storm, River couldn’t help but wonder what it was that made her share all this with Layla. She hadn’t known her for that long, after all. And yet, it seemed so much easier to share all this with her than with Finlay.
Perhaps it’s precisely because she doesnae ken me that well.
River looked at Layla then–at the look of sympathy on her face, at the openness with which she regarded her and everything else around her, the sheer earnestness she always carried–and realized it was not only because Layla didn’t know her well but also because she was genuinely a good, trustworthy person.
“When ye’re ready,” said Layla then, breaking the silence between them, “I will sit with ye and open them. I can open them for ye and ye can read them for me...if ye wish.”
Before she knew it, tears stung River’s eyes. She turned away from Layla and quickly wiped them off with the back of her hand, embarrassed by her overreaction. Layla saw her, perhaps, or perhaps she didn’t; either way, she said nothing more.
River reached for her hand, lacing their fingers tightly together. “Thank ye.”
“Of course, me lady,” said Layla softly. “I’m sure yer brother loves ye. A letter from him sounds...nice. I wish I could have some from me own brothers.”
“They daenae write ye letters?”
“They daenae ken how to write,” Layla pointed out, and River felt too foolish in that moment to respond.
“Well! I almost forgot what I came to tell ye! Laird O’Douglas has requested yer presence in his study, he says there will be a meetin’.
He also wants ye to speak to the housekeeper regardin’ a feast. And he wishes ye to attend the next hearin’ and also find an apprentice for the healer. ”
River blinked in surprise. “He wants me to do all that?”
Layla hesitated for a moment. “Shall I tell him it’s too much?”
“Nay!” River was quick to say. “Nay...it isnae too much. I’m simply...surprised.”
Archer had said, though, that she should be more involved with the clan. Still, it was such an unexpected change, such a sudden twist in the path of her life, that River couldn’t help but find each and every one of his rather reasonable requests quite odd.
“Alright,” River said, slapping her hands on her thighs as she pushed herself to her feet. “Then I might as well go and be the Lady of the Clan.”