Chapter 28

28

T wo mornings later, Delicate flakes from the sky cascaded down and filled the castle grounds with white droplets of snow. The air was crisp and harsh. Archer inhaled it till he felt his nose would bleed, but he did not move from the spot where he stood in the grand castle.

He stared outside the windows for a long time, contemplating his next line of action. Once MacGuire men arrived, his clan, his men, would charge to battle. They had no allies and very little resources to sustain the villagers.

How do we survive the war?

Archer barely heard the door swing open as he stood there.

"Archer?" the soft voice called after some seconds then he slowly stirred around and found Maeve standing behind him. Each time he looked at her, he was reminded of his reasons to fight. Maeve inspired that zeal in him, and he held onto that feeling most of the time.

"Lauren told me you were in here. Are you all right?"

She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he cleared his throat. "This hall was called the Devil's hall," he told her, rubbing the back of his neck to get rid of the tightness there. "Me faither committed many atrocities here, and many lairds would never visit his clan or ask for an audience in this hall because they never knew when he would stab them in the back."

"You are not your father," she whispered as she drew closer to him. Her eyes stayed solemn on his, and Archer knew that even though he was not his father, he still bore his father's burdens.

"I ken that," he whispered with a sigh. "But I pay for his sins. I have been payin' for his sins me entire life."

They faced each other, eyes unwavering until the door burst open, and Jensen hurried in with three other men.

"MacGuire men?" he asked after he strode to them.

"They march for the castle, Me Laird. Our men fight to hold them off as we speak, but there isnae much that we can do without help."

His heart sank as he weighed his options. Archer had never been scared of battle, but the quaking tremors sprouted deep inside him this time because he feared it would be the last time he saw Maeve.

"My brother will help," Maeve spoke in a shaky tone now, and he looked to her again. "My mother and sisters rode for O'Kane, and she promised to talk to my brother. He will send us men. He is our ally."

Archer wanted to hope, but he knew the Highland clans O'Kane included would not fight his war.

"Maeve, make sure ye dinnae leave the walls of this castle. I have men stationed around here to keep ye protected and the others that have come to hide here protected. Dinnae leave the castle nae matter what. Do ye understand me?"

Her dilated pupils stayed fixed on him as she nodded. Maeve's pallor lacked its usual color, and when she drew in a shaky breath, Archer could not stop himself from going to her.

"I will return alive," he mumbled in a hoarse voice before tipping her chin up and taking her lips for a sweet kiss that seared deep into his soul. She kissed him back fervently and whimpered when he drew back.

Tears stung his eyes as he marched away with his men. Archer hoped to the heavens he would return alive because for the first time in his life, he had a future he wanted. With her.

The heat of battle came when Archer and his men backed into the circle MacGuire men created. Their armor clinked and glistened in the midday sun. Archer wiped a hand over his bloodied lip as he held his sword steady in his right hand and faced the MacGuire general.

"This is the end of yer reign, Laird Devlin. Ye will nae terrorize the Highland clans with yer madness anymore."

The muscle in Archer's jaw ticked hard as he stared at his opponent. "I dinnae kill yer laird," he defended then spat on the ground. "Ye have an enemy lurkin' in the shadows. I amnae the one ye should be fightin' with."

"Yer enemy killed him if it was nae ye…" Their heated exchange continued until MacGuire men charged forward again and began another round of fighting.

The long trembles of a distant war cry suddenly filled the air as Archer slashed down a soldier and headed for another.

"Laird O'Kane," Jensen announced when he protected Archer from another attack. "Laird O'Kane is here."

The young laird led his men towards the center of the battle and seeing him filled Archer with renewed hope. The rest happened in a blur, and when it was finally over, Archer dropped to his knees and stared ahead at the pool of his enemies' bodies lying lifeless on the ground.

"Ye dinnae have to fight for me," he said to Laird O'Kane when he walked up to Archer and extended a hand to help draw him to his feet. "Why did he?"

Laird O'Kane stared at him long and hard. His chin tightened, and he finally cleared his throat. "My sister pleaded with my maither, and I would do anythin' to help her. It was my decision to wed her to ye, Laird Devlin, and she trusts ye. That means that I trust ye, too. We are allies, Laird Devlin."

They shook hands, and Archer gave him a soft nod of acknowledgement before he ordered his men to fall back.

By the time they arrived at his castle that evening, every part of his body ached, and he walked slowly because of the large cut in his thigh.

Maeve greeted them first when they arrived at his keep. She threw herself in his arms and sobbed into his neck. "I thought I would never see you again," she cried, holding him tight until he picked her off the ground and massaged her back.

Archer closed his eyes and let her warmth drown him. He could not stop his heart from pounding so fast till he heard Flynn clear his throat behind them.

He finally released Maeve and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. Maeve offered him a shaky smile then he kissed her tenderly on her lips.

"I told ye I would return alive," he whispered. "I meant it."

Archer held her teary gaze till she finally lowered her lashes.

"Laird O'Kane, we must discuss. Now that the MacGuire men have been defeated, the Highland clans will revolt and find reasons to attack us. Laird MacGuire was loved by many, so this isnae the end."

Flynn nodded, and Archer spared Maeve one last look before he released her and limped towards his study with Flynn following behind him.

In his study, he offered Laird O'Kane brandy then gulped down all of his in one swig. Archer groaned when the fiery liquid burned down his throat and left him with a grimace.

Flynn stared at him through the rim of his quaich. "Do ye need time? To attend to yer wounds and rest? We can discuss on the morrow."

"I have a business proposition for ye, Laird O'Kane," Archer said, ignoring Flynn's comment about his injuries. He took out his dirk from his boot, cut a section of his kilt, and tied it around his thigh to stop his bleeding.

He had been wounded many times, and a tiny cut on his thigh was not enough to distract him from the thoughts on his mind. He paced around his study and tried to articulate his thoughts. Archer kept replaying Laird MacGuire's final moments, and he knew he would not rest until he found the one responsible for his murder.

"Yuletide is fast approachin', and soon the clans will want to celebrate. We dinnae have much to survive on or feast with, so I plan to make certain changes on my own and nae leave my fate to the mercy of the unforgiving Highland clans."

"What do ye have in mind?"

"Our clans shall feast as one. I shall bring with me as many Devlin men as I can to celebrate with yer clan, and in turn, ye shall invite the other Highland clans. They respect ye, and they will honor yer invitation better than they did mine."

Flynn seemed lost in thought for a moment, and Archer propped his hands on his hips. "Do ye think that plan will work?"

Archer nodded. He intended to find Laird MacGuire's killer, and from his experience, he knew the Laird was either murdered by a rival clan or by one of his own men.

Jealousy and rivalry amidst clans was not new. Brothers killed each other for lairdships all the time. It was a madness that governed the rules of power.

"Then we shall do just that. I will send out word," Flynn said and rose to his feet.

"Invite whoever assumes the MacGuire lairdship to," Archer told him. "I must find his killer. I willnae rest until I do so."

Archer was left alone in his study for some time after Flynn left, and he went through the village reports that had piled up on his table.

Maeve came to him with Quinn late that night, and she gently closed the letter he read, leaning over his table to gain his attention. Archer drew in a deep breath and filled his insides with her scent then he looked up into her eyes.

"Quinn will attend to your wounds now," she said gently. "You can continue all of this in the morrow after you are treated." Her eyes rang clear with genuine concern for him, and Archer's head swooned a little. He had lost blood already, and his muscles began to ache worse than they did before.

Archer had not felt the impact of his wounds earlier because he had focused solely on his plans. Maeve's gentle strokes on his hand made him relax, and the spasms in his muscles set in.

Archer let her lead him, and she linked their fingers as they left his study and headed for the stairway.

Archer winced when he made it up the first stair, and Maeve put her hands around his waist to assist him. He glanced back at Quinn, who treaded softly behind them, and she offered him a supportive smile just before he spotted a guard lurking in a corner watching their every move.