Page 26 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
Before Archer could steer the discussion toward shoring up supply lines, Dugal—predictably—cleared his throat. “If I may, Me Laird?”
Archer felt a muscle in his jaw twitch.
“Thereisanother matter, of course. That of yer betrothal and the future of this mighty clan.”
Archer was entirely fed up with this conversation. This meeting was not supposed to be about ridiculous notions of marriage and weddings, but the clan’s security. This meeting was about the safety of his people, of these men in this room.
He wasn’t quite sure why he said what he said next, but his mind was already made up.
“The clan doesnae need a marriage right now,” he said flatly. “It needs safety and security.”
“Aye, and a marriage will bring that, especially if we can secure an alliance with another clan who might nae be convinced of our viewpoint without it,” Dugal argued.
“Dinnae worry, it’s handled,” Archer told him.
Dugal raised a bushy eyebrow, his beady eyes almost visible. “Handled?”
Archer thought of Eileen and howhandledthe situation really was. There was no doubt she was a woman who could stir the desire in any hot-blooded man, but she could also stir frustration and anger. He wouldn’t mind having her in his bed, but he was glad the betrothal was a pretense and he wouldn’t have to deal with her for the rest of his life.
He straightened. “I am already betrothed, gentlemen. Can we please redirect our attention to more important matters?”
The words hung in the air like a dropped sword.
Chairs creaked. Mack’s fingers paused. Fergus dropped his quill.
“To whom?” Dugal asked.
Archer sighed loudly, bored with the conversation already. “Lady Eileen Kilmartin.”
There were more gasps this time. One of the younger men—Torren—actually choked on his breath.
“Ye jest,” Mack said smoothly.
“I wouldnae jest about this, Mack.”
Archer’s voice was as hard as the stone beneath their feet. He held every eye at that table like a man holding court before battle. Eileen hadn’t agreed to the terms yet, but he knew—hejustknew that she would.
If she wishes to find her braither, she will agree.
“She’s here, man. Ye have just met her yerself!” Calum interjected, slamming his palm on the large oak table. DefendingArcher without any backstory or notice. “She’s a good, strong woman of good repute.”
One ye drank with in the tavern and who tried to sneak out of the castle in search of her braither. But apart from that and all of her other foibles, I’m sure she’ll cause nay trouble.
Archer smiled to himself. It was one of those rare occasions where his best friend demonstrated, yet again, his unwavering loyalty.
“I had nay idea, Me Laird. I would have offered more congratulations,” Mack said, his smile faltering as if he’d gravely misstepped.
“All is well, Mack. There will be other opportunities. As Calum said, she is here already.”
Fergus recovered next. “Congratulations, Me Laird. Lady Eileen Kilmartin is very—Well, ye are a lucky man for sure.”
Disgust coated Archer’s tongue at the sneer that played on Fergus’s chapped lips—the jealousy within the man’s words and expression—and Calum nudged his knee with the hilt of his dirk. The unasked question lingered between the men.Want me to kill him?
Archer cracked a smile then. “Aye, she is, indeed.”
I dinnae care whether she’s well-regarded or nae. She’ll do for now, and havin’ someone around the castle lookin’ like her cannae hurt. Let’s see if she cannae be a little fun between her outbursts.
“Aye,” said Torren.
