Page 72 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
Eileen could feel every detail of Archer’s hand: the calluses on his fingertips and palm from wielding weapons, the firmness of his grip, the creases in his skin, the individual bones beneath, and the warmth coursing through it.
She had thought briefly of her brother fighting O’Gunn’s men, but her mind had quickly turned to Archer. She’d not seen him fight hand to hand, but she’d tussled with him in bed naked and knew he could take care of himself. With his physique and rage, she didn’t doubt his prowess.
The more she thought of him like that, the more wetness pooled between her legs. If it were not for her brother lying on death’s door down the passageway, she’d have begged Archer to take her to his chambers or any free chamber and make her feel how he had the previous evening.
She rubbed her thumb on his palm as they walked back to the healer’s chambers.
“Thank ye for takin’ me to the council chambers with ye. I ken I’m nae really the lady of the castle, and ye have nay reason to trust me, but I appreciate—” she started.
“I have many reasons to trust ye,” Archer interrupted. “Ye’ve shown me nothing but loyalty and steadfastness. And I ken ye willnae be the real lady of the castle, but ye make a fine addition while ye are here.”
Eileen preened at his compliments, but she couldn’t ignore the pang of sadness in her chest. “Ye’ll have to take a wife eventually, will ye nae?”
They stopped outside the healer’s chambers.
“Is that ye beggin’ me to marry ye?” Archer asked.
“All jestin’ aside,” Eileen scolded. “Ye cannae live alone for the rest of yer life. I’m nae sayin’ that ye should marry me. I’m only wonderin’ why have me pretend to be betrothed to ye when ye could easily wed someone else. Many lasses would gladly marry ye and do as ye tell them.”
“Aye, ye’re probably right,” Archer relented. “I dinnae want a wife, so this is easier.”
“Why?” Eileen asked, curious. “Why do ye nae want a wife?”
“Are ye always so dogged?” Archer frowned. “Ye’re pretendin’ to be me betrothed, and yet ye’re askin’ when I’m takin’ a wife.”
“I see the sadness in ye,” Eileen noted.
“Do ye?” Archer asked, letting go of her hand. “Ye ken everythin’ all of a sudden?”
“I didnae say that,” Eileen protested.
“Well, it sure sounded like it,” Archer hissed, trying to keep his voice down in the hallway. “It’s none of yer business what I do, so let’s leave it at that.”
His jaw was tight, his hands balled into fists.
Eileen knew he would never hit her, but she wouldn’t stoke the fire raging within him. He was right; it wasn’t her place to question what he did.
“I didnae mean anythin’ by it,” she claimed. “Ye’ve made the best decisions for me and me family since I’ve been here, and I cannae ask for anything more. I was only wonderin’, but yer business is yer business. Let’s see how Reid is farin’.”
She pushed the door open and stepped inside to find Reid asleep and the healer sitting by the bed with her book. Her brother was no longer wheezing, but he still slept fitfully and winced every time he moved. A little color had returned to his cheeks, but he was still deathly pale.
A sleeping ghost.
“How’s he doin’?” she asked as she approached the bed.
“Better, Me Lady,” the healer answered. “He’s made it through the night.”
Her eyes drifted toward the window, and Eileen followed her gaze. The sky outside was more purple than black, the stars disappearing with the oncoming dawn. Soon, the sun would rise above the horizon and bathe the castle in a gold glow.
“He’s far from bein’ out of the woods,” the healer continued, “but it’s a good sign. I thought we’d lost him at some point, but he’s a strong one.”
“Aye, he is,” Eileen agreed. “I’ll sit with him for some time. Ye should go and rest.”
The healer raised an eyebrow. “Are ye sure?”
“Aye.” Eileen nodded. “Go to sleep, and I’ll call ye if he wakes up.”
“Thank ye, Me Lady.”
