Chapter 12
Wait for me.
That baritone lilt echoed in River’s mind again and again, reminding her of the promise Archer had given her that morning.
He had been so shameless, holding her and trying to kiss her in front of everyone in the courtyard. Not only had it been terribly embarrassing, to the point River had no chance of hiding her furious blush, but it had also been entirely too jarring.
Archer had asked her to try. He had asked her to see him as he was now, not as he had once been, and yet that was a far more difficult task than River could have ever anticipated.
A tiny voice in the back of her head kept insisting that she would be a fool to believe him, to think he had changed at all.
River had been waiting for him for too long.
Ever since he had told her he would come find her that night, her mind had been drifting to their future meeting, and that only worsened once she was alone.
The only thing that kept her sane enough was the cup of wine Layla had brought her earlier that evening.
The knock on her door came too soon and not soon enough. Before she knew it, she was jumping like a spring to her feet, smoothing down her dress and fixing her dark hair in an attempt to be more presentable, though it was a losing battle.
It was the first time Archer didn’t enter her chambers immediately. River cleared her throat and called him inside, and only then did he open the door, stepping carefully into the room.
“I thought ye wouldnae let me in,” he said.
“I thought ye didnae need an invitation,” River said.
Archer chuckled, shrugging a shoulder casually. “I thought after the way ye looked at me this morn, ye might nae wish to see me.”
With an indignant huff, River crossed her arms over her chest. “Ye shouldnae act like that in front of everyone. It’s...it’s improper.”
“Why?” asked Archer as he stalked closer. He lowered his head, looking at River through his lashes, and he reminded her of a large predator ready to pounce.
What she didn’t know was whether she wanted him to or not.
“What dae ye mean why?” she asked with a disbelieving, humorless laugh. “Because it is! Ye shouldnae act like that in front of others...or have ye forgotten that?”
“Ye’re me wife,” Archer pointed out, as if that explained it. “And this is me castle.”
“As true as that may be, it doesnae change the fact that ye cannae ado as ye please.”
For a moment, Archer seemed to truly consider that, as if the thought had never once occurred to him.
“I actually think I can,” he said in the end, and by then, he had reached River, standing so close to her that she could feel the heat of his body. His lips curled into a predatory smile and River regretted ever letting him into the room. “I have another game for ye.”
It was not what she had expected to hear.
River tilted her head to the side in confusion, wondering where, exactly, archer was going with all this.
Why did he always want to play these games with her?
Did he think he wouldn’t spook her so much if he framed it as a game?
Did he think he could trick her into doing something she didn’t want?
“Daenae look at me like that,” Archer said, slightly amused. “I havenae even told ye what the game is yet.”
“I expect it is somethin’ devious,” said River, and that pulled a real laugh out of him, the sound of it bright and surprised.
“Was the last one devious?”
“Och aye,” she said. “Very much so.”
“Well...this one is much like the last one,” Archer said, his smile turning even more devilish. “We’ll ask each other questions but this time, whoever refuses to answer...must take an article of clothin’ off.”
River scoffed, taking it as a distasteful joke. The more she looked at Archer, though, the more she realized he was being entirely serious.
“Ye cannae mean it, surely,” she said, her voice small. “That’s...that’s preposterous!”
“Why?” asked Archer. “Do ye have anythin’ to hide?”
River knew this for what it was: a challenge. Of course, she had nothing to hide, and besides, she wouldn’t be entirely opposed to the idea of seeing Archer shirtless. The mere thought filled her cheeks with heat, and she quickly looked away, trying to hide her blush.
“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth, though a part of her was screaming this was a bad idea. “Let us play.”
Archer sat on the couch and River followed him, sitting at the other end, just like last time. For a while, they sat there in silence, gazing at each other, until Archer finally spoke.
“Why did ye choose that maid?” he asked.
River arched a curious brow. “Is that truly what ye wish to ken?”
“I thought I would start with an easy one,” said Archer, and River would be lying if she said she wasn’t thankful for it. She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.
“She asked me to,” she said. “And she’s good with the bairns. And she’s nae that maid...her name is Layla.”
“Layla, then,” Archer echoed. “And ye chose her because she asked ye to?”
“That’s two questions,” River reminded him; a repeat of the last time they had played this game. “Me turn. Why seven nights?”
Archer shrugged a shoulder. “Daenae ken.”
“That’s nae an answer,” River pointed out.
Archer let out a snort, once again amused.
Ever so slowly, he leaned forward and removed the red wool vest he wore, unbuttoning each of the six gold buttons with great care.
It was the first time that River noticed Archer had changed clothes since that morning, when he had been wearing a plainer, blue vest and a pair of simple trews.
Did he change just to come to me chambers? Did he wish to impress me?
Nothing could surprise her anymore, least of all something like this.
Perhaps he’s nae answerin’ just so he can remove his clothes...the scoundrel!
It didn’t matter; River wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of leaving a question unanswered. If he wanted to be entirely nude by the end of this, it was his problem, not hers.
When he laid out his vest over the arm of the couch, Archer turned back to her and leaned back in his seat, watching.
“Why does Finlay dislike me so much?”
It was a question as unexpected as it was complicated. River stammered for a moment, not knowing how exactly to describe it to him.
Perhaps she didn’t quite know the reason herself.
“He distrusts ye,” she said in the end. “He thinks yer intentions are...nefarious.”
“Nefarious? Really?”
“He’s only concerned,” River said, eager to protect Finlay’s honor. He had done nothing but protect her throughout her life, and now it was her turn to repay that. “Daenae blame him. He made a vow to me maither to protect me.”
“From yer husband?”
“From anyone.”
Archer fell silent. He seemed to consider that, as if he was trying to decide whether it was an acceptable answer, whether it was something he could allow from Finlay. But River didn’t give him too much time to think about it, lest he decided he wanted to pick a fight with the man.
“Have ye remembered anythin’?”
Whether he had and wished to keep it a secret or River’s theory about him wanting to take off his clothes was correct, Archer didn’t respond.
Instead, he undid the buttons of his white shirt one by one, much like he had done with his vest. Each button revealed more skin, grooved by the muscles underneath, a scattering of old, fading scars decorating the expanse of his chest and stomach.
He had just begun to tan a little, perhaps from training outside with his men, and under the incandescence of the candles, his skin seemed to glow like a flame.
River stared for too long; she caught herself even before Archer caught her, but she couldn’t drag her gaze away. It was something that amused him a lot, it seemed, as he laughed, his stomach contracting with the sound, muscles rippling.
Once he had removed the shirt completely, he leaned back once more, as if putting himself on display, and River could hardly blame him. He was like a statue carved from the finest marble, and at the mere sight of him, heat curled deep in her core—a heat that gripped her like a vice.
“I daenae have much more to lose,” he said, but River was quick to contradict him.
“Ye could have removed yer brogues or yer hose or yer garter ties,” she pointed out. “Ye chose to remove yer shirt.”
“Och aye,” said Archer, entirely unapologetic. “It’s much more entertainin’ this way, is it nae?”
He’s impossible!
“I daenae find it entertainin’,” said River.
“Well, now I just think we’re lyin’,” said Archer, his grin widening in that maddening way of his. “It’s alright. Ye can admit it.”
“There’s naethin’ to admit.”
“If ye say so.”
River was close to banging her own head on the wall, partly out of frustration and partly out of that need that had creeped its way into her body and now refused to let go. She wanted him; there was no denying that. But she wished she didn’t.
“Me turn,” said Archer and pinned her with a look. “Why daenae ye wish to have bairns?”
Out of all the questions he could have asked her, this was the one River couldn’t answer.
How could she explain it to him? How could she tell him that not only did she not want herself or her child to be used as a pawn but that her mother’s actions had convinced her she was unworthy of becoming a mother?
It was her secret to hold. She didn’t want to share it with anyone else.
Instead of answering, she began to undo her gown—a task easier said than done, as a maid always helped her with it.
Once River had undone most of it, she tried pulling the muted red fabric over her head, but she soon found herself stuck—arms in the air, waving uselessly, her head caught in a sea of silk.
Somewhere in front of her, she heard laughter, and then the couch shifted as Archer moved closer to help her. His hands found her arms, their touch gentle as he tugged at the fabric, soon releasing her from her sartorial prison.
River, too, couldn’t help but laugh, at least until she realized she was only in her stay and undergarments now. Still, there were plenty of layers to go, and she wasn’t willing to part with any of them.
She didn’t even realize she was retreating into the corner of the couch, her arms wrapping protectively around herself as if they were a shield.
Archer was much more comfortable, splayed out in his corner, his gaze drawn again and again to the neckline of her stay, where her ample breasts swelled over the stiff fabric with every breath she took.
The game progressed quickly then, with River asking simple, innocent questions that Archer could answer with ease—and yet refused to, until he was down to only his kilt.
Unlike her, Archer was asking her questions she didn’t want to answer—about her mother, about children, about their marriage, until she, too, was down to her shift.
Her heart hammered in her chest, a strange mix of fear and excitement coursing through her as she realized she had never been like this with a man before—so exposed, almost nude, the thin fabric of her shift doing little to hide her body.
Her breasts and hips pressed against it, outlined by the silk, and her legs, her arms, and her chest were far too bare for her liking.
The same didn’t seem to be true for Archer.
“Alright,” River said, drawing in a steadying breath. “Can we end it here?”
Archer shook his head. “We’re still wearin’ clothes.”
“Barely!” River all but shrieked, forgetting herself for a moment and throwing her hands up in the air. “I’d rather nae lose anythin’ else.”
“It’s yer turn to ask anyway,” Archer pointed out.
“Who said I want ye to remove yer kilt?”
“Ye daenae?”
Whether he really was or not, Archer did sound quite surprised by that, as if he had expected River to do anything to get him naked. She rolled her eyes at him, but then refused to ask another question. She knew that if she did, Archer would simply refuse to answer her.
“Then let me ask ye one,” Archer said when she didn’t speak. He moved closer to her, shuffling over the couch until they were once again too close and River was enveloped in his warmth, in his scent.
The proximity sent a shiver through her. What hopes did she have of resisting him now that he had cornered her like this? All this time, she had done her best to deny her need, to put a wall between them, but now Archer was set on demolishing it.
River didn’t stop him when he reached out with his hand to brush his fingers over her neckline, before dipping lower and lower, until he could ever so gently roll her nipple. River gasped, the sensation foreign and yet more pleasurable than she could have ever imagined.
“What if we do somethin’ that doesnae put us in risk of bairns?” he asked, and River’s mouth fell open into a moan.