Page 40 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
“Fine,” he relented, softening. “Call for her. We’ll eat in the solar.”
“Proper fancy, that.”
“Only the best for Yer Highness.”
Ivy beamed, kissed his cheek, and left with a skip in her step.
As the door clicked shut, Archer turned back to the window, his mind still a battlefield of tangled thoughts. He braced his hands on the stone ledge, staring out over the hills, the sky bruised with the threat of more rain.
He felt ignited by Eileen’s kiss, but he shouldn’t be thinking about her. He should be planning, strategizing, putting an end to the threats gathering at his borders. Yet every time he tried to pull his mind toward logic, toward duty, Eileen’s face swam back into view.
Those eyes, stubborn with fire… Her lips, swollen from our kiss…
He’d been around plenty of women before, all of them eager and willing, but never like this. Never someone who got under his skin, who made the thought of restraint feel like a slow death.
He shifted, his hands clenching into fists.
Duty, damn it.
He went to the table to straighten the stack of papers before they fell to the floor, and felt something heavy like a paperweight shift beneath them. He lifted the documents to see what was below and found the dirk he’d given Eileen. He couldn’t help but smile.
Ye are stubborn, are ye nae?
He left the room and headed for the solar before Ivy came back to drag him down there. He tried not to smile as he walked. There was no reason to smile when two men had died recently, and there could be more to come. The O’Gunn threat loomed larger with each passing hour, now that their engagement was announced formally.
And Eileen’s brother…
Where is Reid?
Archer growled low in his throat, trying to rip the feelings from his chest by force of will alone.
Then, the distant toll of the church bell reached his ears, solemn and soft from the village. It cut through his thoughts as he reached the solar to find his mother and Ivy sitting at the small table by the large window. His mother raised her eyebrows and smiled as if she were surprised to see him.
“See, Maither,” Ivy said. “I told ye he would come and eat with us. Archie’s a family man now.”
Archer rolled his eyes, straightening his tunic as the tension left his shoulders. Sunlight, weak but persistent, pierced through the mist and struck the corner of his table.
“Archer, come and sit,” his mother said wearily. “Yer faither would be so proud to see ye with such a fine woman at last.”
“Ye dinnae even ken her,” Archer complained. “How do ye ken she’s fine?”
“Are ye tryin’ to convince us ye chose a harlot or a strummer?” Ivy asked with glee.
“Nay, nay, nay,” Lyla Fleming said. “Archer has the wisdom of his faither. If he chose her, then she’s good for the clan. I ken that more than anythin’.”
The mention of his father struck his heart like an arrow, but a smile still crept onto his lips.
“The wisdom of Faither?” Archer asked. “Which means that he had chosen ye wisely, Maither.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
Lyla chuckled, a high, shrill noise, but one that caused Ivy to grin from ear to ear.
“Maither, it’s so nice to hear ye laugh,” she gushed.
Archer finally sat down. “Aye, it’s braw to see ye happy, Maither.”
“When someone leaves the family, it’s a dagger of darkness to the heart, but ye’ve brought someone new into the fold, Archer. A bonny lass who lights up the castle. It brings some balance—the light against the dark.”
Ivy still smiled, but it was a tight, guarded smile. She reached out across the table and took her mother’s hand. “I miss him every day.”
