Page 19 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
Someone has tried to make a statement, but they hadnae finished the job. Nae yet.
6
Eileen sat on the edge of the bed, her hands limp in her lap, her fingers slightly curled as though they’d forgotten their purpose. Her breeches and tunic clung to her skin, the fabric stretching uncomfortably across her back.
She hadn’t moved since Archer had left the room hours ago. It was only an inky black pressing into the windows.
The soft firelight danced across the stone walls, casting long shadows that shifted just enough to make her breath catch now and then. Her limbs felt too heavy, her thoughts too slow, like trudging through mud in the pouring rain. And her chest was far too tight.
The image of the guard’s eyes, lifeless and wide, haunted her. That strange glassy sheen that didn’t blink, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The image replayed over and over, like a cracked loop in her mind. She hadn’t even heard them say his name.
Did they ken who he was?
The soft creak of her chamber door broke the silence, and her heart leaped before her body could react.
“Me Lady?”
Piper.
Eileen turned her head slowly, as if her neck protested the movement. Her vision focused on the familiar figure in the doorway.
Piper’s voice was quiet and cautious, the way one might approach a bird caught in a snare. “The Laird sent me up. Said ye might need company. Or a proper scrub. Maybe both, aye?”
Eileen didn’t speak; she just blinked slowly, acknowledging her with a tired look.
With a soft sigh, Piper crossed the room and set a bundle of linens down. Her movements were brisk and efficient, her sleeves shoved to her elbows as she poured steaming water from the kettle into the iron tub by the fire. Her every step, from testing the water temperature to adding lavender oil and crushed rose petals, was done with that same practiced tenderness Eileen remembered from her childhood.
“Nae sure how he expects a lass to sleep after a day like today,” Piper muttered, half to herself. “Tacklin’ ye to the ground,accusin’ ye of bein’ a spy, the blood-stained hallway, and the sound of that poor boy’s screaming like some cursed bell…”
She stirred the water gently with her hand, watching the petals swirl before turning back.
Eileen hadn’t moved.
“Come now, dove,” Piper coaxed, coming to kneel before her. She clocked the dagger, still clutched in Eileen’s hand, and gently pried it from her fingers. “Let’s get ye into the bath. A warm soak might chase these ghosts away. Might even get ye to sleep.”
There was no protest. No effort to resist. Only the slow, mechanical lifting of Eileen’s arms as Piper guided her up. Her cloak dropped from her shoulders, her breeches fell easily to the floor, and her tunic slipped over her head. The chill against her skin was ignored, unnoticed.
Piper helped her into the tub, the water lapping gently as Eileen sank beneath its surface, her legs folding with a softness that felt disconnected from her body. Piper knelt beside her and dipped a cloth into the bath, beginning to wash her arms with careful, slow strokes.
“Ye remember when we hid from yer braithers in the stables after ye nicked Thomas’s boots? Saints above, the fit he threw. Was marchin’ around, yellin’ about betrayal like some mad priest. Ye swore we’d never be caught.”
Eileen blinked, a faint flicker of a smile ghosting across her lips.
“I found a way to clean that muck off yer dress without leavin’ a trace. It took me hours, but we pulled it off, aye? That dress was silk too. Silk! Had nay business bein’ worn for a dare. But ye always were the bold lass.”
A small breath escaped Eileen, more exhale than laugh. “Tell me about the guard,” she whispered, her voice hollow.
“I reckon only what the staff downstairs told me,” Piper replied gently, dragging the cloth across her shoulders. “He was new to the guard, proved himself quite the fighter on the training grounds—appointed to the Laird’s chambers watch.”
“How long?”
“Less than a month.”
Eileen inhaled sharply, her heart sinking, but she remained silent.
Piper continued to fill the silence with stories of her childhood, and with every memory she offered, Eileen’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
When the water grew cold, she stood up, careful not to splash Eileen. She wrapped her in a thick, warmed towel, patting her dry, then drew another around her hair, twisting it gently before guiding her back to the hearth. A clean nightdress and a blanketwere warming by the fire. Piper pulled the dress down Eileen’s head in one graceful, sweeping motion and reached for the brush.
