Chapter 22
River refused to tell him where they were going.
Every time Archer asked, she merely smiled and urged her horse onward, and by the time they left the main path and followed a narrow trail through the trees, he had almost forgotten to be suspicious.
The evening was warm, the storm that had come and passed leaving the air thick and humid.
The last of the sunlight filtered through the branches overhead and cast shifting patterns across the ground.
Dappled light fell on River, painting her in hues of gold and orange, the sight of her reminding Archer of a painting belonging to one of the masters.
He should commission someone to paint her, he thought. It was one right that the Lady of the Clan would have her own portrait in the castle, and he would be glad to see it every day on his way to the Great Hall—something to brighten his mornings.
Archer knew the woods like the back of his hand, but he was surprised River even knew where to guide him.
“Have ye ever been out here before, lass?” he asked. “Perhaps it may be better if ye tell me where we’re goin’ so I can take us there.”
“Do ye doubt me navigatin’ abilities?” River asked, throwing him a look of mock hurt. “I can assure ye I can take us where I’m intendin’. I’ve been there once before.”
“When?”
It wasn’t often River left the castle, even now that she was more involved in everyday matters. Had she been sneaking out without him knowing? The thought stung more than he thought it would, though he couldn’t pinpoint precisely why.
And then River said something that explained to Archer just why the thought stung.
“Keir showed me,” she said casually, as if those words were not enough to send Archer into a blind rage.
For a moment, he had to literally bite down on his tongue to stop himself from saying something he might later regret, though the urge was there and it was strong.
The more he thought about it, the more he imagined River and Keir alone out there, in the middle of the forest, with Keir guiding her somewhere he didn’t even know yet, the more he began to lose his composure, his breath coming out fast and hard, his complexion reddening from the blood that rushed to his head.
That bastard! What does he think he’s doin’? Does he think I’ll simply sit back and watch as he tries to court me wife?
And why is she entertainin’ it? Why is she nae tellin’ him to leave her alone?
Was this River’s way to show him just how displeased she was with him? Or was it simply that she was truly fed up and no matter what Archer did, she would never forgive him?
But then why come here? Why agree to spend the night with me?
She’s nae the kind of woman who would do this as revenge.
She wasn’t cruel like that. If River wanted him to know just how displeased she was with him, she would let him know directly rather than resort to such tactics.
And yet it still didn’t make sense to him why she would entertain Keir’s advances at all.
“Keir brought ye here?” he asked, his voice unusually rough and high-pitched. He cleared his throat and tried again, hoping River hadn’t noticed just how affected he sounded. “Why?”
River shrugged a shoulder. “Why nae?”
It was not an answer as much as an avoidance of one.
Archer wanted to push, to keep asking River for an answer until she gave it to him, but the last thing he needed was for them to have another fight.
Could he be patient enough to go through this night without any other incidents and return to the castle to ask Keir instead?
Would he tell him the truth?
Of course he will. I willnae leave him any other choice.
For a while, they rode in silence as the sun set behind their backs. The path they were taking was winding, vaguely familiar to Archer, but it was only when the forest began to thin that he recognized where she had brought him.
The loch.
This was not the path he took to get there.
In the years he had been coming down to the lake, he had figured out the best way to do it, and he had abandoned this path a long time ago.
It was evident now, though, that Keir hadn’t—or perhaps he had chosen this one because it was easier on the horses and their riders, and so River would be more comfortable descending to the place than she would have been had he taken the shortcut.
Archer slowed his horse, and for a moment, he simply stared.
The water stretched before them like polished glass, reflecting the gold of the sinking sun.
He had not been here in months. His duties had kept him away, either inside the castle walls or in the neighboring towns and villages, and once he had been attacked, those closest to him were reluctant to let him out of their sight.
Though other things troubled him now, a part of him was relieved to be out here, in the woods, away from other people.
He appreciated the calmness, the quiet, the fact that this was a place that felt as if it was meant for him and him alone.
Though he was glad to share it with River.
He had once shared it with his mother, then with Keir, and now with her.
Would he ever share it with a child of his own, he wondered?
Would he bring his son or daughter here one day, teach the child how to swim, how to pick the perfect rock that would skip again and again over the surface, how to search for worms they could then use as bait to fish.
He had claimed River twice already, and though the chances of her already being with child were slim, Archer couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if it was true, if she was already pregnant.
Would she be glad about it? Or would she be plunged into grief, still maintaining her belief that they shouldn’t have children?
When River spoke, her voice dragged him out of his thoughts.
“Ye ken the place, aye?”
“Aye,” said Archer. “Aye, of course I do.”
He dismounted from his horse, standing there for a moment to stare at the lake once more—the slight ripple over its surface as the breeze disturbed the water, the reeds that grew on the bank.
Then, he offered River his hand and helped her from her horse before taking in the rest of the clearing.
A blanket had already been spread under a cluster of birch trees, and baskets sat nearby alongside a bottle of wine and two cups.
His brows rose to his hairline in surprise. “River,” he said, his tone a mixture of emotions that he could hardly name.
“What?”
“Ye planned all this?”
A faint blush touched her cheeks, and Archer couldn’t look away from her in that moment, as the last of the light bathed her, as she looked at him with that bashful smile.
“I had assistance,” she said. “Keir.”
“Keir?” The name should have annoyed him, considering every single thought he had had about him on the way to the lake. Instead, Archer found himself smiling. “Then I shall have to thank him.”
The two of them walked side by side down to the lake, close to each other but not quite touching.
Archer expected his hand to brush hers at some point as they were moving, but it only found air, and he didn’t try to force the contact.
Behind them, their horses munched on grass near the tree where they were bound, none the wiser to his internal turmoil.
When they reached the lake—and the blanket with the picnic laid out beside it—he took a deep breath and took in the view from up close.
The sight of it tugged unexpectedly at something deep inside him.
Memories resurfaced, not forgotten by the attack, but rather muddied by the years.
It had been so long since he had last given this place any thought.
It hadn’t been as long since he had last thought of his mother, but her memory, too, had begun to fade, as memories often did.
“When I was a lad, me maither used to bring me here.” His gaze remained fixed on the water, watching a dragonfly buzz over the surface. “I was the only place on the estate where me faither never seemed able to find us.”
When he turned to look at River, he found her already staring at him, a small frown on her face. “Ye would hide from him?”
Archer nodded ever so slightly. “If I wished to avoid his wrath, aye,” he said. “He liked to take his frustration out on me and me maither. Any time one of his actions would bring the clan to near ruin and the elders and the people would go against him, he had us to take it out on.”
Those were memories he had suppressed as well, pushing everything deep down inside him where the light wouldn’t reach. Sometimes, late at night, he would remember the man. He would remember everything he had done to ruin the clan, his wrath and his greed, the way he treated him and his mother.
The woman had not deserved it; no one did. But especially his mother, who had been a kind soul.
She would have liked River. She would have loved her like a maither.
“At first, I came out here with me maither,” he said with a small shrug. “Later, with Keir.”
Back then, Keir had been his only friend.
There hadn’t been many children in the castle, and certainly not many with whom he was allowed to interact when his father was shaping him up to be a warrior, one as wrathful and bloodthirsty as he was.
But Archer had never been like the old Laird.
He had trained and he had fought. He had killed and had been injured in return.
But he preferred to charm and trick his way through conflict rather than send his men to pointless battles, rather than thinning out their ranks just to prove some point.
River waited in silence, and Archer could feel her gaze on him even if he wasn’t looking directly at her.
“Me faither disliked gentleness. If I wasnae trainin’ with a sword, if I wasnae strategizin’ for a war that was only in his mind, if I was caught talkin’ to those he considered beneath me . . . he would make sure this wasnae the way he expected his heir to behave.”