Page 11 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
“Ye look like death,” said Keir.
“Aye and ye look like shite,” said Archer.
“At least I’m nae about to die.”
“But we’re about to kill someone.”
Keir had that look about him—the same frown, the same twist of lips that he always got whenever he was angry. Archer could recognize the expression on this face as well as he could recognize it on his younger countenance.
“What’s the matter with ye?” Archer asked.
“I came to yer chambers to find ye,” said Keir. “Imagine me surprise when I saw the servants carry yer things out of there.”
“Aye,” said Archer. “I will be movin’ to the eastern wing to be closer to me wife.”
Keir sighed and dropped his face in his hands. He didn’t seem surprised by that answer at all, as if he had been expecting it from the moment he stepped foot in Archer’s chambers and found the servants moving his belongings without warning.
“Have ye gone mad?”
“Is it mad to wish to be close to me wife?”
“It is if she’s the one who tried to kill ye.”
Archer couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. That had been Keir’s strongest suspicion from the start, but Archer couldn’t imagine River could ever do such a thing.
“I went to see her meself,” he said. “She’s a tiny thing. Do ye truly believe she could ever harm me?”
Keir’s frown deepened, the corners of his mouth turning downwards as he regarded Archer.
“Perhaps,” he said. “I wouldnae underestimate her. Or anyone, for that matter.”
“Keir, she’s a wee lassie,” Archer insisted. “She can hardly reach me head.”
“Perhaps she had assistance.”
“From whom?”
“From her guard.”
“And why would she want to kill me?”
Keir shrugged a shoulder. “Why wouldnae she? She has every reason to want to kill ye.”
“Me wife?” Archer cried, a scoff escaped him.
“Aye,” said Keir, suddenly leaning forward over the desk. “Archer, there are things ye daenae ken...things ye daenae remember.”
Archer’s eyes narrowed and, as with every other time he tried to remember something that was simply now lost to him, his temples pounded with the effort.
“Tell me, then.”
With a sigh, Keir threw himself on the armchair across from Archer. Then, he reached for the carafe of wine on the silver tray by the desk, pouring himself a cup that he nursed for a long time before he spoke.
“There was an incident with yer wife’s maither,” said Keir over the rim of his cup. “For a long time, the woman was tryin’ to kill every mistress her husband ever had, along with the bairns he sired. When she was discovered...well, she was killed for it. And though ye werenae the one to wield the blade, ye were there and ye did naethin’ to stop it.”
Archer leaned back in his seat, considering Keir’s words. He remembered none of it, but he trusted Keir was telling him the truth. If he had been there when River’s mother had been killed, if he had done nothing to save her?—
“Ye think she would have me killed for it?”
