Page 20 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
“Ye look like a dunked kitten,” she said with a smile as she started detangling her hair.
A knock sounded at the door, causing Eileen’s shoulders to jump up to her ears.
“Enter,” Piper called, not interrupting the rhythm of the brush in the slightest.
Two maids stepped inside, balancing trays of warm broth, freshly baked bread with herb butter, and steaming mugs of what smelled like chamomile tea. One of the trays bore a folded scrap of parchment, tucked neatly beneath a linen napkin. Piper retrieved it and held it out with raised eyebrows.
“From the Laird,” she said, passing it to Eileen.
Eileen opened the note with slow fingers. Her eyes scanned the short message:You were brave tonight, lass. Stronger than most men I know.
She blinked at the words. They weren’t grand. Weren’t poetic. But they hit her like a blow to the chest. Recognition. A moment of clarity amidst the fog. Not pity. Not duty. Just… truth.
Her hands trembled with less force than earlier as she folded the note. Her eyes met Piper’s, who had a knowing smirk on her lips.
Eileen let out a shaky breath. Her throat ached with the urge to cry, but she didn’t.
The food was eaten, and the tea was drunk. Piper sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the warmed blanket over Eileen.
“Will ye stay, tonight? Like ye used to when I was younger?”
The maid chuckled. “I never left, did I?”
The room was quiet, and Eileen finally let the scent of lavender pull her into sleep.
I was brave, was I nae? But how much more bravery will I need? A dead guard, me braither missin’, and who kens what O’Gunn will do when he finds out about me betrothal?
She should have slipped into a fitful sleep with all her worries, but she was safe for now in Laird MacLennan’s castle, and the sleep that came was as sweet as the scent of lavender.
7
Rain crashed into the windowpanes like arrows.
Eileen blinked awake to the low rumble of thunder vibrating through the stone walls. Her room was dim despite the fire burning low in the hearth, and the smell of soot and damp clung to the air. Outside, the sky lashed out in torrents, and every clap of thunder made the window rattle.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, trying to push away the remnants of dreamless sleep. The sheets tangled around her legs, and the space beside her where Piper sat was cold now. A small piece of parchment peeked from beneath her pillow—Archer’s note.
Her fingers hesitated before pushing it further beneath the linen.
A sharp knock sounded at the door. Before she could answer, the heavy oak creaked open, and in stepped Archer Fleming,dripping wet and wind-tossed, a fine sheen of rain glistening across his shoulders and dark hair. He carried the storm with him, along with something else—the same unreadable look he always wore around her.
“Ye are awake,” he said, stepping further inside and shutting the door with a thud.
“Aye, just,” she replied, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “Hard nae to be, with all that racket outside.”
He crossed the room in a few strides and stood by the fire, adding wood to the flames and warming his hands briefly. Then, he turned to face her fully.
“There’s a storm. It’s the worst we’ve had in months. The roads arenae safe today; they’re all flooded.”
Eileen tilted her head. “So… what? Ye came to tell me I’m stuck here, like it or nae?”
He gave a small, knowing smirk. “Aye. Until the storm passes, ye will remain here at the keep. I’ll make arrangements for ye and yer maid.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If I didnae ken any better, I’d think ye summoned the storm yerself to keep me from tryin’ to run off again.”
He didn’t answer right away. His smirk widened. “Just imagine what I could do if I put me mind to it, lass. If I can summon a storm, then surely I can temper the one within ye.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she scowled at the heat that rose in her chest.
