Page 41 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
“So do I,” Lyla admitted. She reached out and took Archer’s hand, too.
It was part of why he didn’t like intimate gatherings with his family, like the one he was caught in—like a fish in a net. It was not that he didn’t like being with his mother and sister or that he didn’t love them—he loved them more than anyone or anything in the world—it was that it forced him to confront his father’s death.
Archer slowly pulled his hand away and reached for some toast, taking the small pot of marmalade and the dish of freshly churned butter, prepared to spread lashings of both until they were thicker than the slice of toast itself.
“This is just wonderful,” Ivy said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I wish Faither were here to see this.”
Archer almost slammed his fist on the table. “Will ye please stop talkin’ about Faither?”
“I can talk about him if I want,” Ivy scoffed.
“Aye, but I’m tryin’ to have breakfast, and I dinnae want to think about how I failed to fight hard enough for him. Can I just have a moment to think about our current problems?”
“That wasnae yer fault,” Lyla stated, not looking at him.
“Ye werenae there, so ye dinnae ken,” Archer countered.
“A Maither kens things. Now, we’re here to breakfast together, and I dinnae want to hear about the sadness that’s plagued our castle for far too long. This is a time of celebration, is it nae?”
“Aye, Maither is right,” Ivy said, brightening instantly. “Archie is to be wed, and I’ll have a new sister, and then there’ll be bairns, and I already ken I’ll be a wonderful aunt. Archie, have ye spoken to Eileen about namin’ one of yer bairns after me? Wee baby Ivy?”
Archer chuckled through his misery. “Och, one of ye in the castle is more than enough. I dinnae want to risk another lass runnin’ around here just like ye.”
“Ye dinnae want that much joy in yer life?” Ivy asked.
Archer shook his head and sighed as he bit into his toast. He glanced to the side to see his mother looking out the window, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. She often smiled, but it was a melancholic smile put on to pretend she was happy, so other people would not be uncomfortable.
She was deeply unhappy—had been since her husband had died by the swords of brigands. But that morning, as they sat in the solar together, a hint of her former self slipped through.
Me pretendin’ means she doesnae have to pretend so hard.
Archer wanted nothing more than for his mother to be happy. She was happy that morning, very slightly, and likely very briefly. He held the power of her happiness in his hand. For as long as he was betrothed, she would be filled with joy at their family growing bigger and the prospect of the castle filling with the sound of children playing.
The pang of guilt shot through his body like a fish darting downstream.
Soon, he would bring the hammer down. He would never tell his mother or sister, or anyone else, that it had all been a ruse to stop them from pestering him, but he would still have to ‘break off’ the engagement.
When he did, he would watch as his mother returned to the shell of the woman she’d been for the past six years.
13
Eileen stood with her hands curled tightly around the window frame as her eyes scanned the courtyard below her chambers. She wasn’t even looking for anything in particular, just movement. Just a distraction. But no matter how many times she told herself to think of her brother, to focus on the reason she was truly there, her thoughts kept betraying her.
They drifted back tohim.
Archer.
His lips.
The press of his body, the heat of his breath, the feel of his groan against her mouth.
Saints preserve me.
She let out a groan, turning away and dropping her flaming face in her hands.
What in all the bloody Highlands was that kiss?
It had meant nothing. Itshouldhave meant nothing. A lapse in judgment. A moment of weakness.
