Page 42 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
But her heart didn’t seem to agree, nor did the tingles running up and down her spine.
She chastised herself for her part in it. If Archer had forced himself on her like some boorish drunkard, she could have explained it away as rakish behavior, but she’d practically goaded him into the act.
And worse than that was not just the memory of it all, but the silence that followed. She hadn’t seen him since.
No teasing glance. No creeping up on her in the passageways. No clipped commands. No apology. Nothing.
She could still see the look in his eyes as he approached her, the way it smoldered, ready to devour her. It was partly her coaxing him, but he wanted it far more than she did.
He has to be the one to blame.
And since then, nothing.
It was maddening.
And so was the fact that she had no idea what progress, if any, had been made in the search for Reid. Archer had said he would look. Promised it, even. But promises were just air. And she’d see how quickly powerful men could toss them aside for the “good of the clan.”
With a frustrated sigh, she pulled on her cloak and stepped into the corridor. She needed fresh air. And distance.
What harm is there in innocently wanderin’ outside by meself? Will it make him angry enough to chase after me again?
Or maybe the walk would clear her head enough for her to claw her way through the knots in her gut.
She stepped lightly and looked around the corners before rounding them. A part of her wanted Archer to corner her again, but she didn’t want to instigate it. She wanted him to want to corner her like he’d wanted to kiss her, but his silence in the past days was deafening and telling. She wouldn’t orchestrate a run-in if he didn’t want that.
So, she crept downstairs, avoiding everyone so she could sneak out without being seen.
The gardens were colder now than when she first saw the hedges and blooms. They still retained some color, but everything was somehow faded. The hedgerows were clipped, the stone pathsswept clean, and the rose vines curled around the carved balustrades in a stubborn display of life.
She walked slowly, letting the silence sink in.
As she mindlessly traced the edge of a thorny stalk, her mind half lost in a memory of the night she had first seen Archer, she remembered the effect he had on the women in the tavern.
They had gazed at him, giggling at the merest look from him.
And what had happened after I left? Their hands all over him? Lips interlocked? Bodies intertwined?
“Och, what do I care?”
“Lady Eileen!”
Eileen almost jumped out of her skin as the voice cut through her scandalous thoughts. She raised a hand to her chest to stop her heart from tunneling its way out of her ribs.
Ivy came skipping up the stone steps from the lower terrace, her cheeks pink from the breeze, a scarf fluttering behind her like a war banner.
“Good day,” Eileen greeted as warmly as she could while trying to slow her heartbeat.
She felt a pang of disappointment that it was the Laird’s sister and not the Laird himself.
“Ye were walkin’ like ye mean to outrun the devil himself,” Ivy teased, falling into step beside her. “What’s gotten into ye? Ye arenae lost again, are ye?”
Eileen forced a soft laugh. “Nay, just restless, I suppose. The keep feels smaller by the day.”
Ivy twirled once on her heels, spinning like a child before stopping and grinning. “That, or it is somethin’ to do with me braither?”
Eileen nearly tripped. “What?”
“Come now, ye must have noticed. He’s actin’ strange. Stranger than usual. Ye two are betrothed, and yet he’s skulkin’ about as if ye cursed him.”
