Page 50 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
Eileen waited until Piper departed before she glided over to the bed, her suspicions rising. She pulled back the heavy quilt and found herself grinning like a fool.
There, tucked neatly under her pillow, lay the dirk.
She snatched it up and ran her fingers over the leather sheath, her heart fluttering in her chest.
The stubborn man. He’s nae lettin’me brush it off so easily.
“I ken exactly where ye sleep, lass.”
Slipping it into her pocket, she turned as Piper returned. Barely a few minutes passed before the gong sounded for dinner.
“Piper,” she said with a conspiratorial smile, “I need yer help.”
Piper arched an eyebrow. “This will be trouble, will it nae?”
“Maybe just a wee bit. But it willnae take long.”
Together, they roamed the castle corridors, looking for the perfect hiding place. It needed to be somewhere Archer would eventually stumble upon—a quiet, little reminder that Eileen was every bit as stubborn as he was.
Piper suggested a nook behind one of the large tapestries, but Eileen shook her head. “Too easy. He’d find it by accident.”
They were creeping along the main gallery, whispering and giggling, when Ivy rounded a corner, nearly making Eileen jump out of her skin.
“What are ye two doin’?” she asked, her hands on her hips, suspicion written all over her face.
Eileen laughed, a little breathless. “Schemin’.”
“Clearly.” Ivy’s eyes narrowed on Eileen’s hands. “What’s that?”
Eileen showed her the dirk, explaining how she wanted to hide it for Archer to find.
Ivy’s eyes widened. “He gave that to ye?”
“Aye.”
Ivy looked as though she wanted to say more, but she bit her tongue, only smiling. “Come wit’ me. I have a better idea.”
She led them down a series of narrow, twisting hallways until they reached a door nearly hidden behind a rotting tapestry.
“In here,” she said, pushing it open. The hinges groaned in protest.
Inside was a forgotten music room. Dust motes floated in the shafts of light filtering through tall, grimy windows. Several instruments were scattered about—a harp, a few lutes, a battered drum, and a massive piano.
“Me faither and Archer used to play in here,” Ivy revealed softly, her smile tinged with sadness. “Before Da passed and Archer… changed.”
“How did he change?” Eileen asked.
“He…” Ivy’s smile faltered as she spoke. “It’s nae me place to talk about any of that. Ye might be better waitin’ for Archer to talk to ye about it, even if it takes years.”
Years is somethin’ Archer and I dinnae have.
“Do ye mind if I take a look and play?” Eileen asked.
“I would love that!” Ivy gushed. “This room shouldnae be silent, after all.”
Eileen crossed the room to the piano, running her fingers reverently over the keys. She pressed one down; the note rang out, surprisingly clear.
“Aye, play somethin’,” Ivy urged.
