“What?” she asked, confusion peppering her tone as she studied him.
“Eat,” Archer commanded again, dipping his head toward the empty plate that rested in front of her. “We’ll nae be here all night, and we’ll be retirin’ soon.”
Her face paled, her gaze swiveling out over the party. It was showing no signs of dying down, but that was no surprise. Archer was well aware that the people would be drinking well into the night.
But Archer did not have that intention. No, the optics of them leaving early would be important. It would legitimize Emilie in the minds of their clan, forcing them to believe that they were off to consummate what they had promised before God.
Even if Archer had no intent to do so.
“Retirin’?” Emilie asked, tension writ clear within the lines of her face.
Archer nodded. “So, eat.”
There was no room for argument in his tone, and though Emilie paused for a moment, she eventually turned and began to place food atop her plate.
He finished his plate quickly, focusing on his food. When he was done, he glanced back at Emilie.
It did not appear that she had eaten much. But for the few seconds that he watched her, she did not take another bite. All Emilie did was push her food around, clearing out space so that it looked like she was eating.
The woman had to be famished, as he knew there was no way she had eaten since early that morning.
That is nae me problem,Archer reminded himself, stifling down the curiosity that was still bubbling inside him.
“It’s time,” he grunted, pushing himself back from the table and bringing himself to standing.
Emilie’s eyes widened, staring up at him in shock as he regarded her.
“Let’s go.”
He did not leave any space in his tone for her to argue, and his new bride seemed to sense that. A jaw ticked in her cheek as she pushed herself back.
Of their own accord, Archer’s eyes flicked to his son. The black eyes that were so like his mother’s watched him with something that looked like hope mixed with apprehension.
Archer clenched his teeth. The sight of Louis watching him like that, with expectation and trepidation all mixed into one, made him want to scream.
He saw it now, the visions of his father before the man had passed away. Even with all the years between, Archer could still feel how it had hurt when his father’s fist had crashed into his face.
Archer could still feel the hands around his throat, his windpipe burning as he fought for breath. He could still feel the anger. The helplessness.
I willnae give meself the chance to ever do that to me son.
He looked away from Louis, not sparing the boy a word or even another glance as he turned and strode toward the exit. Just as he’d turned away, though, Archer was certain that he’d seen his son’s expression shift, showing that the young boy was disappointed, but not surprised.
It is for the best.
Archer reminded himself as he made his way toward the exit of the Great Hall with Emilie at his side.
A few members of his clan waved at him as he passed. But most of them were so caught up in drink and in dance that they paid him no mind.
Once they were beyond the confines of the Great Hall, the noise of the cèilidh became muted. The sound of their footsteps rose up to greet them, echoing off the stone as they made their way to their chambers.
With each step they took, Archer was certain that he could sense Emilie stiffening more and more.
How will I be able to live for the rest of me days with such a timid lass?
Archer quickly banished the thought. It didn’t matter what Emilie was like, whether she was timid or fierce. The only thing that mattered was that she was a good mother to the twins. That was all he needed and wanted from her.
When they reached the door of their chambers, Archer threw open the door. He waved his hand in front of him, allowing Emilie to walk through first.