Page 68 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
Bruising covered his upper chest and neck, and a bandage was wrapped around his right upper arm, also stained with blood. His left arm had fared better but was still cut multiple times, the wounds open and bright. He had one black eye, the bruise twice the size of his eyes, and a large gash on his cheek, which would add to the scars he already carried. His hair was matted where he’d bled from a head wound.
Eileen knelt by the bed, and Archer went down with her when she didn’t let go of his hand. She only released him when they were both kneeling, and she brought her hands together to pray.
Reid coughed in his sleep, and his breathing became raspy. He let out a moan.
Eileen wept as she prayed for her brother. Archer didn’t move from his spot, his shoulder pressed to hers.
Reid muttered something, and his lids fluttered open for a moment, his eyes rolling in their sockets before he closed them tight and winced again at the pain.
“We’re doin’ everything we can for him,” the healer said from behind.
“Please help me braither,” Eileen prayed. “Please watch over him as he comes back to us.”
Archer put his arm around her.
Reid opened his eyes again as if he were trying to escape a nightmare. He furrowed his brow in concentration, but his eyelids fell shut again.
“I’m here,” Eileen whispered.
She reached out a hand, but pulled it back without touching him in case she caused more pain.
“Aye,” he muttered.
“Aye, I’m here,” she confirmed.
“Aye,” Reid repeated. There was a pause before he added, “Eileen.”
“Aye, Reid. I’m here with ye. Ye’re safe again.” Eileen smiled, then burst into tears.
Archer pulled her closer, the two of them still kneeling.
Reid struggled against his heavy eyes again and turned his head to look at his sister. “Och,” he croaked. “Ye’ve… always been… an ugly crier… Eileen.”
His last ounce of strength left his body, and his eyes closed again as he snorted and fell into another fitful sleep.
Eileen burst out laughing, then choked on a sob, the salty tears falling down her cheeks to the hay-covered floor below.
“Come here,” Archer murmured, pulling her into his embrace. “He’ll be fine, I promise ye. And when I find out who did this to him, I’ll kill them all.”
“Ye’re a good man, Archer Fleming. Ye’re a good, good man.”
Archer felt something well up in his chest. It was a good thing he didn’t have to speak because a lump had formed in his throat. He tried to be a good laird, but he didn’t know about being a good man.
He’d not thought that of himself since before his father was killed. He didn’t think it now, but as Eileen said the words, he came close to believing it.
20
Eileen held onto Archer with all her strength, which was slowly slipping from her with the lateness of the hour and the weakness she felt at being her brother like that.
She was grateful to hear his breathing, for it reminded her that he was alive, but each breath sounded laced with pain, and there was nothing she could do to ease it.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stem the flow of tears, but they wouldn’t stop. Happiness and sadness mixed together and overflowed from her body, spilling out and running down her cheek.
She felt something shift in Archer when she’d called him a good man. He was a good man and a great laird to his people, but she could tell he didn’t fully believe that.
Something clearly haunted him.
It hadn’t escaped her notice that he never spoke about his father, and she wondered if it was connected to his death.
