Page 52 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
Could he truly suspect Keir? The two of them had grown together side by side. He was one of the few people Archer remembered when he had lost his memories, even if he didn’t remember everything about him.
All his life, and even when he was burdened with amnesia, Keir was the one person he could trust; a constant in his world, an anchor. How could he suspect him now?
But how could he not?
Before he had enough time to chase that train of thought, there was a knock on the door of his study, and when it opened, a maid walked in timidly.
“Me Laird...what ye requested has arrived,” she said. “I instructed the servants to put it in yer chambers, but if ye wish?—”
“That’s alright, thank ye,” said Archer. “If I need it moved, I will have it done meself.”
With a bow, the young woman left the room, and Archer turned to see Keir raise a curious eyebrow.
“What?”
“What did they bring ye?”
“Why must ye ken?”
“Because if this is makin’ ye nae only remember but also spend gold from the coffers without good judgement, then I must ken to stop ye,” said Keir, and Archer didn’t know whether he should take it as an insult or be glad Keir was looking out for the clan.
Nor did he know whether he should take it as some sort of sign of guilt from his part.
I am overthinkin’ everythin’ now. How can I speak to him about anythin’ when I daenae ken if he’s guilty or nae?
“It’s naethin’,” said Archer with a dismissive wave of his hand, but Keir didn’t seem so convinced. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Archer, and he leaned back against the nearest wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
“If it’s naethin’, I’m sure ye wouldnae mind sharin’ what it is with me,” he said.
Archer let out an impatient sigh, shaking his head. “Cannae ye trust it is naethin’?”
“I would if ye hadnae been hit in the head twice,” said Keir, which all things considered, was a good point, Archer figured.
“If it makes ye feel any better, I asked for this before I was hit the second time,” he said.
“It doesnae,” Keir insisted.
“Well...isnae that too bad?”
The two of them stared at each other in silence for a long time, like two bulls facing each other. In the end, Keir threw his hands up in the air in exasperation, though Archer knew it was more of a performance than any real gripe with him. If he was truly concerned, then he would have been much more insistent.
And the truth was, Archer could easily tell him what it was he had ordered. It was not so much a secret as it was, in a way, embarrassing for him now.
How could he explain this to Keir? Even hiding behind the excuse that he had lost his memories, this gesture was entirely unlike him. He was walking a thin rope, teetering over the abyss. On the one hand, he was trying to hide the fact that he remembered from everyone, and that meant he had to keep acting like this Archer who was gentler with his wife, who took care of more than simply her basic needs. On the other, havinghis memories back made it so that every loving gesture came with a side of embarrassment.
Everythin’ was so much easier when I didnae remember any of this.
Now, if he was meant to keep the fact that he had regained his memory a secret from everyone, he had to keep up their deal of spending seven nights with her, and where would that lead them? Could he keep himself away from her? Could he resist that overwhelming pull he felt towards her, that unbridled passion that had kindled itself deep within him? He had already tasted her; he had already felt what it was like to be with her, and. Now those memories plagued his mind until all he wanted was to be back in her chambers, to hear her moan his name.
He stood no chance. The moment he’d see her, he would crumble.
Sooner or later, we would have to provide an heir to the clan anyway. What’s the harm in doin’ it now?
He could think of many reasons why he shouldn’t. For one, someone was after him—though that made it even more important to have an heir, someone to take over should something happen to him. There was too much turmoil, too many lies. The clan was in times of uncertainty, and that was one of the main reasons why he had never wanted to have children with River in the first place. Children didn’t fit his plans. And yet, he couldn’t help but have this sense of foreboding, this certainty that children were not too far from his future.
Either way, I’m still performin’ me duty. That’s all that matters.
“I hope Finlay is alright,” said River to Layla, as the other woman deftly braided Arya’s hair by the window, where the afternoon light streamed in and helped her see her handiwork. Colby was running around the sitting room with a scone in one hand and a wooden sword in the other, attacking all sorts of terrible things—from bandits and monsters to the curtains that hung over the southern windows.
