Page 87 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
They’d finally sent a messenger to Laird O’Gunn the previous day.
As long as he believes what we wrote to be me true intentions, and also believes that I believe the intentions of a known liar and cheat, then we can let this play out and gain some time.
It was a waiting game, and he hated waiting. He was also waiting for someone to come and try to kill him.
And if ye do, it’ll be yer last act in this life.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” he boomed.
The door opened to reveal a young woman. It took Archer a second to realize that she was the maid who’d accompanied Eileen to the castle.
“Aye?” he grunted.
“Laird MacLennan, I…”
“Well, out with it,” he urged.
“I think she’s gone,” the maid blurted.
Archer’s blood turned to ice. He shot up from his desk, bumping his thighs against it and rocking it a little.
“Gone? Eileen?”
“Aye, Me Laird. I tried to stop her, but she wouldnae listen to me. She took some food from the kitchens and disguised herself just like she did when we left McFair Castle. Spoke about takin’ matters into her own hands.”
“That blasted woman,” Archer snapped. “Do ye ken where she means to go?”
“I dinnae ken,” the maid mumbled. “I only ken that she’s stayin’ away from O’Gunn lands. Somethin’ about headin’ for the river first and then goin’ north from there.”
“Aye, well, she’s got some common sense in her madness. Och, I cannae let her go out there by herself.”
Archer pushed past the desk, almost tripping over the leg, and the maid darted to the side as he bolted out of the room. He ran down the hallway and the stairs, barging into the kitchens and almost knocking over one of the cooks as she unloaded a large tray laden with freshly baked bread.
He ran down the short passageway that led to the rear of the castle, an entrance usually used for food deliveries, and out the small wooden door. He sprinted to the stables.
“The fastest horse ye have saddled!” he barked at the nearest stablehand.
“Aye, Me Laird,” the boy replied. He ran into the stables and exited with a black steed, ready and saddled.
Archer grabbed the reins, shoved his foot in the stirrup, and threw his leg over the horse. He slipped his other foot into the opposite stirrup as he flicked the reins to get the horse moving.
He crossed the courtyard at a canter, people moving out of the way as he headed for the front drawbridge. The horse’s hooves thudded against the wooden planks as Archer flicked the reins again, urging the beast into a gallop.
As soon as he was out of the castle, he turned into the woods, heading straight for the river. The trees on the left and right became a blur, some of the branches biting at his cheeks as he rode past.
He briefly spotted a small patch of ground. It was flat and mostly blended with the surrounding area, but his eagle eye noticed the slight difference. It was the resting place of Mack Douglas—gone and soon to be forgotten.
He pushed the horse faster, forgetting his own safety. He needed to ensure Eileen’s safety, and if she wanted to go back to her home, he wouldn’t stop her. He would bring her back for now and have a caravan escort her to McFair Castle. What he couldn’t figure out was why she wanted to leave now when her brother was still recovering.
It didn’t make sense to him. But then a lot of things didn’t make sense. He was still coming to terms with the death of his father all over again. It didn’t make him feel any better that it had been an orchestrated attack. He still blamed himself for it.
He reached the river, the water rushing by with a melodic thrum. He was about to turn to head north when he spotted her.
On the grass at the back of the river, Eileen sat on a blanket, a picnic basket to her right. She had her hands behind her, slightly reclined, bathing in the sunlight.
“What the heck are ye doin’?” Archer called.
