Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What do ye mean that’s all that’s important?”
Emilie stared up at her husband, unable to believe what she’d just heard.
There was no way that someone could be that crass and that uncaring. Especially not when it came to their own children.
She couldn’t make sense of it.
“I do mean it,” Archer growled, staring daggers at her as she argued back with him. “And I did nae marry ye so that ye could doubt me and try to tell me how to raise me own bairns.”
“Actually,” Emilie narrowed her eyes at him further, “I thought that was exactly why ye married me. To be their maither, right?”
Archer stared at her for a moment, clearly toiling with his response. But Emilie didn’t give him time.
There was a nagging thought in the back of her mind that the way she was behaving went directly against her plan to annoy the Laird. That being herself and advocating for the twins was something that showed a lot more of herself than she ever planned.
But she didn’t care about that. Not when she’d had time to get to know the children and the man to whom she was married.
The children were frightened of him; that much was clear. But it was also clear that it wasn’t a physical kind of fear.
Based on everything Emilie had seen, she did not think that Archer had ever put his hands on them. As menacing as Laird McGregor was, he did not seem the type to abuse others.
No, the fear that she had experienced in the twins had been the fear of the unknown. Because they did not know their father, not really. Not in the sense that children usually know the people who sire them.
He told them what to do, and they did it. And that appeared to be the extent of their relationship.
But what makes it that way?
Emilie continued speaking, determined to get to the bottom of what was going on with this family and to heal some of this before she eventually returned to the Abbey.
“A maither,” she forged on, “is to care for her bairns. And a part of that carin’ is to make sure that they’re healthy and happy. And yer bairns? They’re nae happy. And ye cannae let them keep continuin’ like this. It’s unfair, and it’s unkind.”
“I never claimed to be kind,” Archer growled at her. “And I daenae care how ye tend to them in the time when they’re nae in their studies.”
Archer was standing close to Emilie already, but he shifted on his feet, bringing his large chest even closer to her. She felt his warmth floating across the space to her. And, despite everything, despite the frustration she was feeling, the urge to lean into him threatened to overwhelm her.
Her attraction to him reared within her, a tightening in her lower belly causing Emilie’s hands to begin to sweat.
Get control of yerself.
Emilie shook her head, trying to clear it of the feelings his closeness had welling up inside of her.
“I am nae yer servant,” she mumbled, some of the boldness that she had been feeling a moment before leaving her as desire rushed in. “Ye cannae order me around like I am such, either.”
“Actually,” Archer continued, oblivious to the effect that he was having on her. “I can order ye around. Is that nae what a husband is for? When ye took vows, ye said that ye would honor and obey, and I thought ye were the type to take vows seriously.”
Emilie’s mouth popped open in surprise, and her eyes locked on his.
How dare he use me vows against me. He kens I was a novice nun, that I am a novice nun.
“Usin’ that against me,” Emilie muttered, echoing her thoughts. “That was low. That was unkind. That was…”
“I told ye,” Archer growled. “I am nae kind.”
“But ye are nae a monster,” she continued.
Emilie stepped back, trying to give herself a little bit of distance. But the moment that she moved, Archer’s arms darted out.
One of his hands rested on each of her biceps, planting Emilie firmly in place.
“I am a monster,” Archer growled.
His gray eyes were forceful and imploring as they bore into hers, and she got the sense that he was willing her to understand something much deeper than what he was actually saying.
“I am a monster,” he repeated, “I am the thing that other clans use to warn their bairns into bein’ good lads and lasses,” he continued. “I am fierce and protective; I will go to war if it means protectin’ the people that trust me to protect them. And I am trainin’ me bairns to do the same.”
“Which means,” Archer continued, not having so much as a break in his speech or in the way that his eyes were boring into hers, “that ye are trainin’ me bairns to do the same.
I willnae have me wife runnin’ around and underminin’ me.
Especially nae when doin’ so could impact the lives of every single person that lives on me lands.
So, ye will listen to me. Ye will obey me.
And ye will raise the twins how I see fit. Do I make myself clear?”
The air had grown too thick. Emilie could not breathe.
Her chest was heaving as she stared at her husband. A fierce, desperate urge to get away had begun to build within her belly.
She didn’t want to be standing this close to him. Didn’t want his hands on her. Not with the desire that was now spiraling through her entire body.
Emilie’s skin felt hot. Like it had suddenly shrunk and was too tight over her bones.
She wanted Archer to remove his hands. And yet, she couldn’t bear the thought of stepping out from beneath them.
“What if I daenae listen to ye?” she murmured, her voice turning husky as the words left her lips. “What if I daenae obey?”
Emilie had never heard her voice sound like that before, thick and filled with need. It fell out of her like dark, delicious honey.
She saw the implications of it wash over her husband. Watched as his eyes darkened, realizing the effect that his nearness and his touch were having on her.
I should step away from him. I have to step away from him.
But still, Emilie did not move. She continued to stare at Archer, waiting for him to speak. Waiting to see what her husband would do next.
“If ye daenae obey me,” Archer said, his own voice dropping low, his desire matching Emilie’s own, “then I will have to punish ye.”
He moved before Emilie had a second to react or even process what was happening. One moment, Archer had his hands on her arms, staring down into her eyes. And then, she was pressed flush against his chest, and his mouth was on hers.
Emilie’s body went rigid. She didn’t know what to do.
Every sense, every nerve registered nothing but Archer. Need coursed through her. A need that she didn’t recognize or fully understand.
Almost entirely of their own accord, Emilie’s arms floated up, wrapping themselves around Archer’s neck. His mouth began to move, and hers matched his.
While Emilie herself didn’t seem to understand what to do, her body did. And, for the very first time in her life, Emilie relaxed and allowed her body to take control.
A sound rose up in the back of her throat as the stiffness left her shoulders and she leaned into the kiss. The taste of Archer rushed into her mouth as his tongue darted forward, parting her lips.
I never kenned it could be like this.
Fire rushed through her, and she leaned into him fully. Archer groaned, his hands coming up to fist in her hair.
He tugged on it, the small bite of pain eliciting a response that Emilie didn’t know how to process. She wanted more. She needed more.
Never in her life had Emilie experienced something like this. She had never been kissed before, had never even dreamed of it.
At the abbey, while the other girls were tittering behind their hands about crushes or the cuteness of some of the men who delivered their supplies from the market, Emilie had never been able to understand.
But now? Now she understood entirely.
Her desire for Archer was pervading every one of her senses, digging itself deeper and deeper into her. His hands left her hair, their kiss deepening as he began to explore her body.
Now I understand why some nuns struggle with their vows.
The thought flickered through her mind, splashing ice through her veins and dampening her desire.
Her vows. The important ones. The ones that she had made to God, not the ones that she had made to Archer.
She was going against them right now. Giving in to the sins of the flesh, allowing a man to touch her.
Emilie wrenched herself back, her cheeks flaring with embarrassment as she broke their kiss. Her eyes flickered to her husband.
Archer was staring at her, confusion written clearly on every line of his face.
“What?” he began, but Emilie shook her head.
As quickly as she could, Emilie stepped out of Archer’s embrace. Her shame grew with every inch of space that she put between them.
“I shouldnae,” she stammered, her mind casting about for some explanation of what she was experiencing. Something that she could tell him as to why she had caused their kissing to come to a screeching halt.
But there was nothing. The feelings and thoughts that were rushing through her were too complex. In that moment, Emilie herself didn’t even understand them, and so she couldn’t really put words to them.
So, she just shook her head.
“I cannae,” she murmured, retreating even further.
Her husband just stared at her, watching every move she made. And Emilie couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t stay standing in front of him for another moment.
Because even though she knew allowing Archer to kiss her had been wrong, Emilie knew that if she stayed there for another moment longer, she would allow it to happen again.
So, without saying another word, Emilie turned on her heel and all but ran back toward the castle.