Page 53 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
Eileen chuckled weakly.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, before Ivy leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “When I’m worried, I go to the stables and talk to the horses a bit.”
Eileen smiled genuinely then. “I used to do the same with our dogs back home. Me favorite is an old hound named Bramble. Daft as a blasted fencepost, but sweet as anything.”
Ivy laughed, a soft, musical sound that eased some of the tightness in Eileen’s chest.
“We’ve got a goat here that Archer cannae stand,” she revealed, mischief dancing in her eyes. “The wretched beast headbutted him right into a trough when he was a lad. He still holds a grudge.”
Eileen laughed, picturing a young, surly Archer dripping wet and furious. “I’d pay good coin to see that.”
Ivy grinned wider. “Och, he’s nay different now. Just… bigger. And better at hidin’ when he’s hurt.”
Eileen blinked at the sudden revelation, but before she could ask what Ivy meant, the heavy oak doors swung open, and Archer strode back into the hall, Calum hot on his heels.
His expression was neutral, his steps easy, but there was an unmistakable new energy about him. He was like a man who had found a path forward through a storm.
“I’d like to make an announcement,” he boomed, his voice carrying across the room with commanding ease as he walked the length of the table back to the chair across from her. “As all of ye ken, I’m to be betrothed. I am organizin’ an engagement feast to honor the union between meself and me bride-to-be, Lady Eileen Kilmartin. Maither, Ivy, Calum, we’ll invite the council, some of the family of course, and any other clan members ye wish to have here. But it will be an intimate affair.”
There were joyful murmurs, delighted claps, and one sharp whistle of approval from the shadowed figure lurking at the edge of the hall, always angled and postured at the ready.
"Oh, Archie, can we please nae have a big feast?" Ivy begged. "We should invite everyone. It’s nae everyday that ye get married. Ye should be celebratin’ this!"
Archer tightened his lips and looked across the hall, calculating. "Aye, we’ll see," he replied.
There were more cheers and joyous shouts at the prospect of a big party being held in the castle.
"Three cheers for Laird MacLennan!" someone called out from near the back of the hall.
"And for his bride!" someone added.
Eileen smiled politely but sat rigidly in her chair, her hands clasped in her lap, her heart hammering against her ribs. Memories of their kiss and the banter between them flashed across her memory, as did his rakish behavior and the distance he put between them recently… and yet still no Reid.
"I would very much like to celebrate the union of me son and such a fine young woman," Lyla said quietly, her voice carrying like a butterfly flapping across the hall.
Eileen knew this put the Laird in a bind. A wedding was something to celebrate, but, really, there was nothing to celebrate.
16
The path was muddy, and the sickening squelch of the horses’ hooves made Archer’s skin crawl. Everything about this day was already a disappointment, and it was only dawn.
He kept his hood pulled up against the damp chill, though the weather hardly bothered him. His mind was far heavier than the clouds overhead.
Calum rode at his side, silent for a long stretch, until he spoke. “Never thought I’d see the day where we buried our own in one breath nae in wartime.”
Archer grunted, his jaw clenched tight. “Aye, and under such foul circumstances.”
They crested a small rise, the village roofs coming into view below, smoke curling up slowly from some of the chimneys.
Calum shot him a glance. “Ye still think it’s a coincidence?”
Archer didn’t answer immediately. He let the silence stretch until the weight of it seemed to press down on them both.
Finally, he said, “Coincidence is a word lazy men use when they cannae explain somethin’.”
Calum snorted quietly. “Who pished in yer ale?”
Archer allowed himself a grim smile. “If it were just a guard, or just the blacksmith, mayhap. But two deaths, close together, right when tensions are growing in the Highlands? Nay. Something’s festerin’.”
