Page 19 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
“Thank ye, me lady,” she said. “I...I am at yer service, forever. Me name is Layla. Ye have nae idea, nae idea what ye’ve done for me. The two of them, they were always findin’ me alone and tellin’ me all these...these vile things, ye should have heard them, the way they spoke to me, but then ye came and we’re even sendin’ them away, I cannae believe we’re sending them away?—”
“Layla,” said River, holding up a hand to stop her, as she suspected the girl would simply keep talking forever if she didn’t. “It’s alright. Ye daenae deserve to be treated like this.”
“Aye, me lady,” said Layla, her blonde hair swaying over her back with every animated nod of her head. “It isnae common, daenae think this is what happens in the castle, truly, its’s only the two of them, they have it out for me?—”
“Well, we took care of it,” River said, once again interrupting her. “Daena fash, they willnae bother ye anymore. But what was the issue?”
“They daenae like that I’m a lowlander,” said Layla. “I honestly daenae think I sound that much different from them. Aye, maybe I speak a little differently, but I’m still a Scot! And aye, I may be a quarter English but that doesnae make me so much different from them! How is it me fault me grandmaither married a Sassenach or that I’m from Culross? It’s a lovely place too if ye ever visit, me lady, it’s so much sunnier than here?—”
“I’m sure it’s very nice, Layla,” said River. As she spoke, she noticed that Colby was clinging on her leg, his little hands holding onto her skirts as if he feared he would be driftingunmoored if he let go. It shattered River’s heart to see him like this, but she couldn’t blame the boy—after seeing his mother murdered, any conflict was to much to bear.
But Layla seemed to notice, too, and she immediately fell to her knees next to Colby, producing a small piece of fruitcake wrapped in cloth from her pocket.
“Ye ken, wee laddie...food always makes me feel better,” she said. “And me specialty is feelin’ well all the time!”
Colby gave her a smile that was reluctant at first, but then widened when the cloth fell open to reveal the treat. He hesitated, but Layla passed it to him, and he rushed back to Arya, grinning up at her.
“Thank ye!” the two of them called, almost in unison.
“Ye’re good with bairns,” River pointed out.
“Och aye, I have so many siblings,” said Layla. “I’m also very good at many things! And ye could see that for yerself, me lady, if...if ye allowed me to be yer maid.”
River faltered for a moment. She had her own cohort of maids, of course, and even had her personal maid who arranged everything for her. Where would Layla fit into that group?
“It’s the least I can do, after ye saved me from them,” Layla added, her honey-colored eyes sparkling with gratitude. It wasstrange to River; no one had ever been so admiring of her in the past. No one had looked at her like this, with so much gratefulness and none of the ambition she was used to seeing in people.
Everyone around her seemed to await her response with bated breath—even the children and Finlay, who were looking at her as if to say she knew what she had to do. In the end, River relented. After all, what was one more maid? She was the Lady of the Clan. She could have as many maids as she wished.
“Very well,” she told Layla, who almost jumped from joy. “Ye’re to become me personal maid. Finlay, please tell the housekeeper the two women are to be sent away immediately.”
“Aye, me lady,” said Finlay, and quietly slipped away from her side.
Immediately, the children were upon Layla, asking her a torrent of questions to which she responded with a torrent of answers. She was more talkative than any maid River had encountered before—really, any human River had encountered before—but that only seemed to fuel Arya’s and Colby’s curiosity even more.
They immediately loved her.
For a moment, River watched hem with a small smile on her lips. She couldn’t help but wonder whether she had finally made a friend in this castle, no matter how unlikely of a friend she would be. She needed it desperately; someone to whom she could talk about things she could never mention to Finlay, someone whounderstood her as a woman, someone who would brighten her days a little more.
But then, despite the light that Layla seemed to exude from every inch of her, River’s mind turned to darkness once more.
Tonight is the night. And there’s nae avoidin’ it.
7
Finally...I’ve been waitin’ all day for this.
Archer was standing outside River’s chambers, his fist poised to knock, but something inside him gave him pause, despite his excitement. He didn’t know what it was. It was as if it had been dredged up from the deepest parts of him—from an Archer he didn’t quite remember but carried with him nevertheless.
Grow up, Archer. This is yer wife.
He knocked once and didn’t wait for River to respond before he opened the door to her sitting room. There, River sat with Finlay, the two of them talking quietly between them. Not for the first time ever since he had woken up after the accident, Archer wondered if the man ever let his eyes roam off River or if she was constantly under his surveillance. Had it not been for the physical distance they always seemed to maintain—her on the couch and he on an armchair near the fireplace—he would have suspected him of having much more sinister appetites.
The moment Finlay’s eyes found Archer, he stood, giving him a bow. The frown that knit his brows together, though, betrayed a confusion Archer hadn’t expected to see.
What was so strange about him visiting his wife’s chambers? Surely, he had done the very same things many times before.
“Och...is it time already?” River asked, and the disappointment in her voice was difficult to swallow.
