Chapter 14

14

A rcher watched her from his study window. "Did ye hear a word I said, Archer?" his aunt Lauren asked, making him clear his throat and divert his attention to her again.

He rubbed his right brow then his chin. "A picnic and a ball. I heard ye, aunty. I just dinnae think we can afford to have either of those thin's at the moment."

"The picnic is for ye and yer bride," she countered with a small wave of her hand. "And of course, we cannae afford a ball, but it is Yuletide season soon, and we shall celebrate as tradition demands so…"

"I am nae sure we shall celebrate this year's…" He trailed off when he heard the sound of free laughter outside. The riotous sound drew his attention and made him glance outside the window again.

Archer's heart did a speedy dive down in his chest when he saw Maeve pick up the skirts of her earasaid and run in a circle to get away from Quinn who had joined her outside.

"It is cold outside," Archer mumbled as he caught a glimpse of her stockings beneath the fray of her skirts. "Why is she outside without a cloak to cover herself? If she catches a cold, then I shall spend my time worried about her instead of focused on the clan's work. Is she that foolish?"

"What?" Lauren questioned him, and he faced her again, noting the slight raise of her brows. "Ye are worried about yer new wife?"

"Nae," Archer lied. Lauren's lips only curved into a knowing smile, and he knew she would not let him hear the end of this if he did not give her the reply she wanted to hear. "She is fragile. It is freezin' outside here in the Highlands, and she must have forgotten what it is like after spendin' so much time on English soil."'

Archer used his worry as an excuse to look out again and watch Maeve some more. She seems happy. He wanted that. Since the kiss the other night, he could only allow himself the pleasure of replaying the scene repeatedly in his head.

Each time he did, his muscles tightened and craved the relief he knew only she could give him. It was a pleasure Archer could not allow himself, regardless of everything.

She is innocent, and I have taken enough from her already. Taking her from her home after she had been away for so long was enough guilt to live with.

But each time he remembered her standing on the same spot his aunt stood now, demanding he perform his marital duties, his entire body propelled him with a force stronger than anything he had ever felt.

"If ye worry about her, then perhaps ye can show it and do more than just lock yerself up in yer study every day and night. Go talk to her and find out what ye two share in common. Ye should make her feel more at home and at ease, Archer. That is yer job as her husband, nae mine or Quinn's."

"I dinnae enjoy being locked up in here," he answered Lauren, "but I must do it for our clan's survival. Besides, Quinn keeps her entertained, so that is enough."

"And what about yer survival?" Archer did not get the chance to answer before Lauren walked around his table, got to him, and placed her hands on his shoulders. "It is all right to want somethin' for yerself, Archer. Ye give yer all to the clan all the time, and now is yer chance to take somethin' for yerself."

"I dinnae wed the lass for meself," he denied and gently lowered his aunt's hands from his shoulders. Frankly, he did not expect her to affect him this way. All he thought about was the clan when he made that deal with Laird O'Kane.

His desires had to stay true to his purpose for this marriage.

"Besides, the lass doesnae want me. She has this conviction that weddin' a Highlander is against the rules, and if she learns of our clans history, then she will hate me."

"Ye dinnae ken that she will," Lauren argued with a soft look in her eyes.

Archer could not afford to think about that now. He had letters from the clans he had reached out to for business sitting on his desk and a demanding meeting with his clansmen at noon.

"Ye two shall go on a picnic tomorrow. I will have the kitchen prepare some broth and a fruit basket for yer time out in the moors. Ye shall wear yer favorite leine and kilt, take out yer mare, and ride with her to the moors."

"Lauren…"

"This is not an argument, Archer. Ye do it, or I shall lock ye two in yer study and force ye to speak to her if that is what it will take."

"I dinnae want to speak to her," Archer muttered in a low tone. He said nothing else, but he desperately wanted to add that he wanted to do a lot of things that did not involve words.

Perhaps moans? And breathless cries of pleasure?

He had heard her moans once; the sound was ingrained in his memory like war cries—Archer could never forget.

What he felt when he touched and kissed Maeve was far more intense than the thrill of being in battle. It rocked him to the core, and even left him with shaky nerves.

"Tomorrow," Lauren said and wagged a finger at him. "I shall tell Jensen meself because I ken ye will find an excuse."

Lauren smiled and sashayed to his door; her bouncy red curls swayed with every step she took, and she leveled him with one last mischievous look in those brown eyes before adding, "Now get back to work."

Alone in his study now, he sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands. It took some seconds for him to get his mind on track again and focus on the letters in front of him.

Minutes later, Jensen entered his study with two more letters. "What is this I hear about a feast? My wife willnae stop askin' me about it."

Archer sighed. "Lauren's idea. There is nae feast. We cannae afford one right now."

Jensen handed him the letters then sat and crossed his legs in front of him. "Those arrived from clan MacGregor and Boyd. Have ye seen any positive response yet?"

Archer shook his head. "Every clan I have asked to do business with us has declined, regardless of the new alliance we have with Laird O'Kane. I believe many of them dinnae believe that the Laird indeed gave his sister's hand to me in marriage."

Archer looked at Jensen, and his temples ached harder with a constant throb. He massaged his head with two fingers and shook his head. "I dinnae ken what to do next."

"How about lettin' yer aunt handle this one? It seems to be somethin' she is good at."

Archer's brow knitted together in a frown that cast a shadow over his other features. "How do ye suggest Lauren can handle all the Highland clans ostracizing us?"

"Lauren is a woman, and she is a charmin' one. Agree to her feast and have her plan it. The lairds present shall enjoy themselves, and we can show them that clan Devlin is a peaceful clan regardless of our past."

Archer analyzed his friend's words for some time. "Ye think agreein' to a feast we can barely afford will help?"

"Ye are newlywed, Me Laird. Hold a feast to celebrate yer weddin'. Dance with yer wife, show the Highland clans that we are a happy clan, and that ye two are in love. Have Laird O'Kane attend. His allies shall attend his sister's weddin' to, and that way ye shall meet with them."

The plan did not sit right with Archer—not because he did not think it would work but because he did not think he could stand telling Maeve the truth about his clan's past, and if he was to explain the reason for the feast to her, then he had to explain that history too.

"Me Laird…"

"I dinnae think me new wife will be too pleased to learn she has married into an outcast clan," Archer voiced after some seconds of silence. "I took advantage of her absence from the Highlands. No other Highland lass would have agreed to marry into our clan. She was the only chance I had at a proper alliance with a strong clan like O'Kane."

Jensen nodded. "Ye dinnae ken if she will be pleased or nae. Tell her the truth and find out. She shall be more inclined to trust and help ye if she kens the truth. She must learn the truth from ye, Me Laird, and nae one else."

"But…"

"I learnt that being honesty is the easiest way to gain an ally, Me Laird. Me wife and I hated each other when we first met, but she became me ally because I earned her trust."

Archer met Jensen's eyes, and he tried to ignore the unsettling seed of anxiety sprouting up in him. I have killed and hurt a lot of people. How much of the truth can I tell her? How can she trust me if I tell her?

"What if she fears me? I am nae exactly the kind of man to be trusted. She has been hurt by someone, and I would hate to see her recoil from me in fear because of me past."

Archer knew his demons well, and that night when he kissed her, he had lost control. Kissing her like that without her permission? That lack of control reminded him of his father. And I cannot be like me father, ever. He had sworn that to himself the day he drove his blade through the man's heart.

"Ye are a good man, me friend," Jensen voiced with intent as Archer battled with his inner demons. Jensen's misty eyes landed on Archer's one more time, and he did not flinch as he added, "Ye saved me life durin' the war. Ye are an honorable man who protects his own. Everyone in this castle serves ye because they ken that, and yer wife? She will learn that too, regardless of what the rumors say. Ye are a good man, and yer heart is in the right place."

Jensen did not need to say more. Archer gathered his courage and inhaled sharply. "All right," he agreed and swept away all the letters on his table with one swing of his hand. "We send our invitations startin' tomorrow. Send word to all the village heads. The castle doors shall be open to all for the feast, and every Highland clan shall be invited within the walls of our hall."

Jensen nodded with a proud smile that reached the corners of his eyes and wrinkled them a bit. "Aye, Me Laird!" Jensen rose to his feet and nodded. "We shall toast to new beginnin's soon, Me Laird. I am certain of it."

The door closed after Jensen's exit, and Archer closed his eyes before sinking lower on his chair. Now he had to hope confiding in Maeve about his past would not make her hate him or worse fear him.