Page 15 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
“Nay,” he said, his emerald-green eyes glinting in the firelight. “But I do have a better idea.”
Her brow creased. “What are ye?—”
“Ye dinnae wish to go home. And Icannaelet ye go to O’Gunn.”
“Cannae?”
“Nay. I dinnae like what he’s up to. Ye’re right about the trap he’s settin’. Refuse to marry him, and yer clans go to war. Accept, and he gains power and… ye.”
“Reid was goin’ to sort it out,” Eileen argued. “He would have.”
Ignoring her reply, Archer continued, “Ye’ll stay here and pretend to be me betrothed. For one month. I’ll help ye get yer braither back.”
Betrothed?
She scrambled through the possibilities flooding her mind.
If I marry him, Thomas willnae owe him a favor, and he’ll help me find Reid, and we would be protected from O’Gunn… Would we?
“I cannae wed ye,” Eileen declared, standing tall with her hands on her hips. “This isnae… I dinnae ken what this is. What’s in it for ye?”
“Come with me,” Archer ordered. “Ye’re goin’ to the dungeons for yer own good.”
5
“What’s in it for me is me maither and the council gettin’ off me back for a while,” Archer told her. “Ye get far more out of it than I do.”
He wanted to send her back upstairs to retrieve her shawl as he watched her shiver in the depths of the dungeons, but they were down there now, and it wouldn’t take long. A part of him wanted to warm her, but he knew she wouldn’t let him.
“There’s somethin’ ye’re nae tellin’ me,” Eileen said.
“Ye dinnae trust me one whit, do ye?” Archer shook his head and gestured around them. “Go on, take a gander. Ye want to find yer braither, but I’m nae lettin’ ye sneak around to find him on yer own. Look for as long as ye like and ye’ll find that he’s nae here, and then maybe we can have a wee bit of trust.”
“Ye just asked me to be yer betrothed when I’m promised to another. That doesnae seem like a trustworthy proposition.”
Archer smiled. “Aye, maybe ye’re right, but O’Gunn hasnae come to ask for yer hand yet, has he? All I want is for yet to pretend. Ye’re good at it, are ye nae? Except this time, ye willnae have to pretend to be a lad, only a lass.Melass.”
Eileen put her hands on her hips. “Is this… Are ye tryin’ to get me into yer bed?”
“Och, go and boil yer head,” Archer scoffed. “If I want a lass beneath me sheets, I’ll have one. I willnae need to run around pretending to be betrothed. If ye dinnae want help findin’ yer braither, then the deal’s off.”
“Nay, I didnae say that,” Eileen said quickly. “I just need a minute to think about it.”
“Take a minute to look around, but I havenae got all night.”
Eileen’s lips tightened as she forced herself not to speak. She shivered again in the cold dungeons and walked toward one of the cells defiantly, even though fear was etched on her face at what she might find there. She had no sooner reached the cell when the prisoner inside threw himself at the bars.
She yelped and jumped back. She would have stumbled and hit the ground if Archer hadn’t stepped forward and grabbed her around the waist. Her body was soft like a sack of feathers against the tension in his muscles, and she fell back into him such that his face was an inch from her neck.
Even in the darkness, he could see the pale smoothness of her milky skin. Despite the musky earthiness, her sweet scent slipped through.
Archer had been in this position many times; the next thing to do was to kiss her neck.
“Is this an aye, me betrothed?” he asked.
Eileen quickly wriggled free, turned toward him, placed her hands on his chest once more, and pushed herself away.
“Och, ye are insufferable,” she sniped.
