Page 78 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
“Pick it up,” he ordered.
“Me Laird?” Mack’s eyes darted between him and the sword.
“Nay, I’m nae yer Laird anymore. Pick it up and die like a man.”
Mack was hesitant, but he slowly bent down and picked up the short sword, keeping his eyes on Archer the entire time.
Rage surged through Archer. His father was dead because of men like Mack.
He remembered the day his father died. Mack wasn’t there, but the man was just as responsible. He breathed in and out through his nose like a bull about to charge.
Mack’s hand shook as he pointed the sword at him.
For a moment, Archer thought the traitor would turn around and run, and he’d have to stab him in the back, but Mack showed one last ounce of bravery. He planted his feet, then lunged forward and swung the sword down at an angle meant to slash Archer’s face and torso.
Archer stepped back and angled his body to the side so the blade slashed through the air. For the briefest moment, he saw his own reflection in the blade as it whizzed past him. Then, he snatched Mack by the collar and slit his throat, killing him swiftly.
Mack dropped to the ground, and the sword fell from his grasp. Blood pooled from his body, soaking into the ground below.
Archer turned his back on him and walked to the guard to return the sword.
“A swift burial in an unmarked grave,” Calum ordered the two guards. “And nae a word to anyone.”
The guards nodded simultaneously before swiftly returning to the castle to retrieve their tools.
“Me Laird?” Calum murmured.
“I want guards stationed outside the healer’s chambers,” Archer ordered. “Guards watchin’ Lady Eileen, too.”
“And ye?” Calum asked.
“I can take care of meself. It’s nae the first time me life’s under threat, and it willnae be the last.”
“More is to come,” Calum reminded him.
“Aye, I ken,” Archer muttered. “This is far from over, but I will end what me faither started.
23
Eileen sat by Reid’s bedside. She’d expected him to wake up by now, but he still lay unconscious, grunting and moaning in his sleep. The only time he’d stirred was to tell her that she was an ugly cryer.
It had been humorous at the time, but the longer he went without saying anything else, the sadder the words became. They could be his last words.
“Is there nothin’ else that can be done?” Eileen asked the healer, who sat in the chair behind her.
“I’m sorry, Me Lady,” the healer replied. “We’ve done everything we can. It’s a great sign that yer braither is still breathin’. The longer he’s alive, the greater the chance he’ll recover completely.”
“Dinnae mince yer words,” Eileen muttered without looking at her. “Will he make it?”
The healer sighed. “I still cannae say for sure, but I had little hope when he was brought to me, and I have a lot of hope now. The worst of it is over.”
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, and she got up to answer it.
“Good day,” she said to a guard.
“Good day, Ma’am,” the guard returned. “We’ve been sent to see whether ye need anythin’.”
“Nay, we dinnae.”
