Page 57 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
“I never thought I’d live to see the day,” she said.
“Ye may nae live if ye keep talkin’,” Keir threatened, but it was the weakest threat River had heard in her life. There was another odd expression on Keir’s face then, and he turned to look at her, a small frown on his face. “At least ye’re nae a gloomy cloud anymore. Good. Daenae bring another headache to Archer. He has enough in his mind.”
“Is that all ye care about?” River asked.
Keir looked her straight in the eye. “Aye,” he said. “The clan comes first.”
“And here I thought we were makin’ progress,” she teased, only for Keir’s mouth to tick upwards in an almost-smile.
“Tell yer maid to stop screamin’,” he grumbled, though it seemed to River he was only doing it for the sake of keeping up appearances. “She’s scarin’ the merchants.”
“Tell her yerself,” River shot back, and Keir gave her one final look before turning around and walking away.
He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he did, and River didn’t miss it.
20
He remembers. There’s nae other explanation for it.
Archer had told her that fragments of his memory had returned, so it didn’t sound so far-fetched to River that he had probably remembered everything about his life. Everything, from the things he liked and disliked to how he ran the clan to how he was with her, River was no longer seeing glimpses of his past self in him; no, she was seeing his past self, the way he used to be before his first attack and the memory loss.
There had been signs of it since they shared that first night together, since he made her his. River had just missed them—or she had simply ignored them, too reluctant to think that the man she had once known had returned.
What did that mean for her? For them? Archer was already cold towards her, already acting distant, even though he had not yet admitted he remembered.
Did other people know? Was she the only one in the dark? Surely, he had to have told Keir, at least, since he always told the man everything.
She couldn’t help but feel like a fool. Archer was now playing with her, using her once more, though for what, she couldn’t tell. Why not admit the truth? Why not tell her that he remembered and that he once again wanted nothing to do with her?
What was his plan?
She didn’t know, but she was going to find out. Leaving the children with Layla, River burst out of the doors of her chambers and stomped over to the other side of the castle, breezing past guards and servants with nothing more than curt nods to them.
She found Archer exactly where she expected him to be.
The study door stood half-open and through the gap, she could see him seated behind the broad oak desk, bent over a stack of papers. The afternoon sun spilled through the windows at his left, casting long threads of gold next to reaching shadows on the floor.
Archer looked up when she entered and for a moment, neither of them spoke. He set down his quill carefully, slowly, as if he was trying to delay the inevitable.
“River.”
There had been a time when hearing her name from his lips would have warmed her. Now it only sharpened the ache in her chest. He was once again cold and distant, just like the man he used to be, and River couldn’t even hold onto a sliver of hope that she was mistaken.
She shut the door behind her, as she didn’t want anyone else to hear the conversation they were about to have. Most of the castle didn’t even know there was anything wrong with Archer in the first place, let alone that he had recovered, and River was eager to keep it that way.
Still, she gave him no greeting, no time to lie or sneak his way through this.
“Ye remember.”
It was all she said. She didn’t need to say more. He didn’t need to say anything, either. The silence he gave her was answer enough.
A strange calm settled over her, because at least now, she knew for sure. All the little things she had ignored now lined themselves neatly together—the way he sometimes stared at her as though trying to reconcile two versions of himself, the way his laughter had become less frequent, the moments when she caught him watching her with a guarded expression she had not seen since the beginning of their marriage.
The way he had grown distant.
Finally Archer exhaled. “Aye, I remember,” he confirmed, and the word fell between them with the weight of a stone. There was no emotion in his voice; there was nothing to suggest that he regretted the return of his memories or the fact that he was once again the man he had been.
“When?” River demanded, though she was quite certain she already knew the answer.
