Page 23 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
Frustration bubbled up inside her as he opened the door and strode into the corridor. Without thinking, she snatched the long robe hanging over the back of the armchair, pulled it on, and fastened the ties tightly around her waist before stepping into her warmed slippers and following him outside.
“Laird MacLennan!”
He didn’t slow down but turned his head slightly, acknowledging her presence.
“I’m nae finished,” she called. “Ye might think ye are helpin’, but?—”
He shot her a look. “Then come along if ye must.”
So she did.
She followed him through the keep, her slippers whispering against the stone, her robe clutched tightly around her. The castle halls were empty, and her voice dropped to a low murmur as she continued to follow him.
“Why do ye keep indulgin’ me if ye have more important things to tend to?”
She thought she heard him mutter under his breath, “Maybe that’s the damned problem.” But he didn’t breathe any life into a response.
Her heart thundered. There was something in the way he looked at her when they skidded to a halt outside a heavy wooden door. As if he, too, was suddenly addicted to their arguments.
Before she could find the words to say anything further, a smooth, polished voice from down the hall interrupted. “Laird MacLennan. I trust we are all present now?”
Archer turned slightly. “Aye. Mack, this is Lady Eileen Kilmartin.”
The man who appeared was tall and barrel-chested, his smile pleasant, but something about it made Eileen’s skin prickle. His voice, more than anything, struck her like a cold splash to the face. Deep. Familiar in the worst way.
Too familiar.
How do I ken this man? Do I ken this man? Mack… Mack what?
She stared at him, her eyebrows knitted. Her stomach twisted with unease, but the memory wouldn’t surface.
Archer glanced at her, then stepped closer, his hand on her elbow. “Come.” He guided her a few paces down the hall, away from others, his voice low. “Ye well? Ye went pale.”
“Aye. I just… I feel like I’m supposed to ken him or remember him. I cannae place the memory, though. I was lost in thought.”
Archer studied her a beat longer, then nodded.
She took a breath, her hands twitching slightly at her sides. “I havenae been very gracious. And yet ye have been nothin’ but kind—besides when ye tackled me to the ground and accused me of bein’ a spy.”
Archer winced and pressed his lips together.
“Ye’ve been protective and kind, and I want to apologize, Archer,” Eileen continued, her voice growing smaller with each word.
She looked up at him and realized that he looked genuinely surprised.
It brought a smile to her face.
Before he could respond, she placed a hand on his forearm. “Can we talk after yer council meetin’?”
He gave a small nod, his expression softening before he turned and walked into the chamber.
8
The council chambers reeked of old men.
Archer couldn’t stand the smell; it always made his temples throb painfully.
Their murmurs bounced off the walls loudly but died down the moment he entered the space.
