Page 20 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
“Aye,” said Archer drily, his gaze jumping back and forth between her and Finlay. When the man made no move to leave, he said, “I will have to ask ye to leave us alone for the night, Mr. Kirk.”
Finlay’s eyes jumped to River, as if waiting for permission. There was a tension in his shoulders, his body drawn into a taut line, like a bowstring ready to fire. Finlay didn’t want to leave them alone, as if he suspected Archer would do something to harm River. But how could he ever believe such a thing? Archer didn’t remember many things, but he knew a few truths about himself; one of them was that he would never harm his wife.
“Mr. Kirk,” Archer repeated, pointing to the door with a sweeping arc of his arm. “If ye would be so kind.”
His words were tipped with ice and left no room for discussion, Still, Finlay spared a moment to glance at River, and only when she gave him a small nod did he make his way to the door, lingering there for a brief moment before finally leaving them alone.
“What is the matter with him?” Archer asked once Finlay was gone.
“Naethin’,” said River. “He is me guard. His job is to protect me.”
“From yer husband?”
“From anyone.”
Archer said nothing in response. What was there to say to that, anyway? Did River, too, worry that he would hurt her?
Did everyone suspect him for some reason?
Slowly, he began to approach her, pushing all other thoughts from his mind. This was a night for him and his wife to get acquainted once more. It was a night for him to rediscover what it was that he liked about her, why he had chosen her, why they had gotten married.
And, hopefully, why he had refused to have an heir.
The closer he got to River, though, the more she began to backtrack. Archer didn’t even know whether she realized she was doing it or whether her feet were simply carrying her away from him on instinct. She was pale under the soft light of the candles, and she swallowed with an audible click when he got a little too close.
And then, Archer revealed what he had been holding behind his back—a bottle of whisky to be shared between them.
“What’s this?” River asked, sounding more suspicious than before.
“I daenae ken ye, River,” said Archer with a sigh. “I have forgotten everythin’ about ye, about us. But I wish to remember. I wish to find out everything I kent about ye again.”
River’s eyes narrowed, her gaze flitting between his face and the bottle.
“And how is whisky goin’ to help with that?”
“I thought we could play a game,” he said. “We ask each other questions and if one of us fails to answer, we must drink.”
River’s suspicion slowly turned into relief. She drew in a deep breath, then released it through her lips. She even gave him a soft chuckle, nodding along.
“Alright,” she said. “That sounds...almost like fun.”
“Almost?” asked Archer with mock hurt. “I can assure ye it will be very entertainin’.”
“I must admit I have trouble thinkin’ that anythin’ could be entertainin’ when it involves ye,” said River, and though Archerwasn’t quite offended by the comment, he was curious as to why she believed that. Perhaps sensing his curiosity, River added, “Ye’ve always been a very serious man. Nae...nae outwardly. Ye’re entertainin’ because ye choose to be. Because it benefits ye. But ye’ve always been a very serious man.”
“Well, I am the Laird of this clan,” Archer pointed out. “It does require a certain seriousness.”
“Aye, I suppose it does,” said River as she made her way to the couch. She sat there, on the far edge of it, leaving plenty of room for Archer—as well as plenty of room to exist between them when he would take his seat. Still, he didn’t plaster himself at the other end. Instead, he sat firmly in the middle of the space River had left for him—neither too far nor too close. The bottle of whisky was placed between them, like a border meant to separate them.
“Let us begin then,” said Archer. “Ye can start.”
“And I can ask ye anythin’ I want?”
“Aye, that’s the idea.”
For a few moments, River seemed to consider her options. Then, she asked, “Dae ye truly remember naethin’ from yer life?”
Archer let out a soft, humourless chuckle. “More or less,” he said. “I remember some things, from when I was much younger.But even that is...it’s muddled, as if I’m lookin’ at meself through a dirty glass. I daenae even ken if what I remember is correct.”
