Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Ye look well,” Archer murmured, turning slightly so that he could eye Emilie up and down. “The abbey treated ye all right the last couple of days?”
Emilie stared at him for a moment, an aghast expression on her lovely face.
“That’s what ye want to talk about right now?” she scoffed, arching a sardonic brow in his direction.
“What else is there to talk about?” Archer shrugged.
But he knew the answer to that. There were a thousand other things that they could be talking about.
The children. What had happened while she was gone? What had caused him to come back?
Archer was certain that his wife was filled with a plethora of questions.
But all of them would lead him down a slippery road. Because every time the carriage shifted, every time it jolted, Emilie’s body moved.
They were sharing one of the seats in the carriage, both of them sitting on the same side, shoulder to shoulder. So, every time she was jostled about, Archer could feel her.
And every time that Archer could feel her, fantasies about her would rise in his mind.
Desire coursed through him at every moment. The carriage was already too small, making him able to smell her and feel her warmth. And Archer was worried that if he entertained any of the questions surrounding anything deeper regarding them, he might try to take her right there in the carriage.
And if I take her in the carriage, I might well tip it over.
“Aye,” he growled. “It’s what I want to talk about.”
Emilie sighed, but she began to prattle away. She told him about the chores that she did while she was back, and how monotonous they became after. But there was no joy in her words.
She was merely placating him.
The time it took for them to get back to the castle seemed to drag on, and Archer was able to focus on little else except for the closeness between them.
When Castle McGregor finally loomed on the horizon, Archer let out an audible sigh of relief.
“Ye’re that happy to get away from me?” Emilie asked, and when Archer turned to glance at her, there seemed to be a bit of hurt in her eyes.
“It’s nae that,” Archer said quickly.
He paused for a moment, considering how he wanted to proceed. But it didn’t take him long to decide on the truth.
Emilie deserved nothing but the truth, from here on out.
“The only thing I’ve been able to think about this entire carriage ride is liftin’ yer skirts,” Archer murmured, his voice raspy with desire.
He glanced at Emilie, arching a brow at her and holding back a dark chuckle as he watched her cheeks flush.
“It’s definitely hard nae to think about it when ye’re blushin’ like that,” Archer growled.
He watched as Emilie shifted in her seat, and he noticed it the moment she shifted, pressing her thighs together.
“Unless ye want me to lift yer skirts,” Archer offered.
The blush on Emilie’s cheeks deepened, and she laughed as she waved off his words.
“Ye waited too long, we’re nearly back at the castle now,” she said.
“But I could have?” he asked, feeling himself harden at the thought. “If I had brought this up sooner? I could have had ye right here, in this carriage?”
She averted her eyes, looking out the window at the home they were growing ever closer to.
“I suppose we’ll never ken,” she murmured, shrugging one shoulder.
He chuckled to himself, turning to look out the window as they finally arrived at Castle McGregor.
Giving Emilie the time she needed to say goodbye at the abbey, especially since she knew it would be the last time she ever saw most of them, had taken quite a while. And the ride itself had taken even longer.
Night had fallen nearly an hour ago, and the lights in the windows flickered, small bubbles of warmth against the dark of the starry sky.
“The bairns will be in bed already when we get there,” he explained. “But they’ll be happy to see ye in the mornin’.”
Emilie nodded, and when Archer turned to look at her, he saw her throat bob as she gulped.
“We’ll be headin’ straight to our chambers then?” she asked, her voice thick and husky.
Archer allowed one corner of his mouth to tick up in a smirk.
“Aye, lass,” he growled. “We’ll be headin’ directly to our chambers.”
Emilie giggled despite herself, dipping her head as she buried it in her husband’s chest. He was carrying her toward their rooms, and from the look of the corridor, she knew they were getting close.
“I’m capable of walkin’, ye ken,” she said, but there was no bite to her words.
She didn’t want him to put her down. Not now, not ever.
They reached their room, and Archer paused just long enough to push it open. The sound of it squeaking elicited a tug in Emilie’s belly.
She did not know exactly what was going to happen once they walked into that room, but she knew that she could not wait to find out.
The moment they stepped through it, Archer set her back on her feet, closing the door behind them. Someone had come in and made a fire in their hearth, and it crackled in a merry, warm welcome.
The warmth of the fire washed over her skin, making everything feel too warm, too alive. It made Emilie suddenly very aware of all the fabric that made up the gown she was wearing.
“What do ye say, wife?” Archer growled, his eyes seeming to almost glow in the dim, flickering light. “Do ye want me to take ye to bed?”
Emilie smiled up at him, her heart feeling light as a feather.
“I demand that ye take me to bed,” she purred.
Archer’s eyes darkened, and he prowled forward, one of his hands coming up to rest on either of her hips. She leaned up on her tiptoes, pressing her mouth against his.
The kiss nearly stole her breath. Even though they had only kissed a few times, the kiss still felt deliciously familiar.
Her stomach began to flutter, and for the first time since getting married, Emilie gave herself over to the sensation of the moment entirely.
Archer took a step forward, not breaking their kiss as he led Emilie backwards, directing her toward their bed. She felt it press against the back of her thighs, but Archer paused just shy of pushing her down onto it.
“Let’s get ye out of this dress,” he purred, his deep voice sending chills skittering over her flesh.
Emilie just nodded, knowing that if she tried to speak in that moment, her words would fail her.
Archer reached behind her back, working the laces of the bodice of her gown over with deft, practiced fingers. Emilie felt it the moment the gown loosened, and she shrugged her shoulders, helping to push the arms of the gown down.
The air of the room rushed in to kiss her skin, and as her dress fell to the floor, leaving her in only her chemise, Emilie felt her nipples begin to pebble.
“If I have to get out of me clothes,” she murmured, stepping back a little to eye her husband hungrily. “Then I think ye should be out of yers as well.”
Archer grinned, and he began to move, lifting the bottom of his tunic and throwing it over his head. Eager to get her hands on her husband, Emilie threw off her chemise and climbed back onto the bed, watching as her husband dropped his kilt.
Her eyes went wide when she was able to take in all of him. She eyed him hungrily, her stomach clenching at the sight of him.
Emilie leaned back on the bed, watching through desire-lidded eyes as Archer prowled forward. He descended upon her, his mouth claiming hers in a flash. And Emilie returned the kiss with a fierce hungriness that she didn’t know she had.
Her hands formed into claws, raking down Archer’s back as the weight of him descended upon her. She imagined all the things they could do, naked and pressed skin to skin, and she felt herself heat entirely.
“I need ye,” she panted against his mouth.
A wetness began to spread between her thighs, a sure sign of Emilie’s own pulsing desire.
“Say nay more, wife,” Archer growled, and a thrill ran through her at the use of the word.
“I love it when ye call me that,” she purred.
“Well, ye’re goin’ to like this even more.”
Archer moved, using his knees to help spread Emilie’s thighs. He moved his hips, and then she felt him pressing right outside her entrance.
“It might sting at first,” Archer warned. “But it fades. Do ye still want to do this?”
He stilled, staring down at her and waiting for her response.
It was the easiest answer that Emilie had ever given.
“Aye,” she said with a nod, her voice coming out breathy and pleading. “I want it all, husband.”
A feral grin tugged up Archer’s mouth as he began to drive his hips further. Just as he warned, there was a sharp pain at her center, one that had her hissing.
But as Emilie breathed through it, there was something else on the other side of that pain, too. There was a fullness, a sense of being filled, of being completed, as Archer inched himself into her.
His mouth returned to hers, their kiss passionate as he finally sheathed himself in her to the hilt. He paused, their lips never once leaving each other.
And Emilie just returned the kiss, allowing herself to get used to the feeling of having her husband buried within her. The pain began to subside, replaced by a need to move.
So she did.
Emilie began to roll her hips, satisfied when Archer hissed out in pleasure in response. Spurred on by her movements, Archer began to retract himself from her before driving back in.
The pain that she had just felt became replaced with pleasure, replaced with need. She bucked her hips, matching Archer stroke for stroke.
She had thought that it had felt good when he’d feasted on her. But this? This felt nearly divine.
It wasn’t long before she felt a coiling in her body, a need for release that had begun to build until she was closing her eyes and panting at the ceiling.
“Archer,” Emilie moaned, bucking her hips one last time.
“Tell me, wife,” he answered, his own voice carnal and thick with need.
“Archer, I love ye.”
The words left Emilie’s mouth before she’d had a chance to stop them. But she wasn’t sad that she’d spoken them aloud. Her eyes fluttered open, finding Archer above her, driving himself into her as his eyes shone.
“And I love ye,” he growled, thrusting into her once more.
The words, the feeling of being full, it was all too much. Pleasure exploded through Emilie, and she threw her head back, screaming Archer’s name.
Her hands fisted in the sheets as Archer continued to pound into her, his rhythm becoming more and more erratic as waves of pleasure washed over her.
Emilie couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even think. Not as the feeling of release washed over her so entirely.
Archer gave one final, hard thrust and then groaned, his entire body stilling as he hit the innermost walls inside of her. Deep within her core, Emilie began to feel warm, a satisfaction spreading within her like she had never known.
Slowly, the waves of pleasure began to subside, and Archer collapsed on top of her moments after, both of them panting, breathless from their release.
Emilie had no idea how long they lay like that, him on top of her, their breaths mingling as they came down from the high of finally lying with each other.
“I cannae believe that we get to do this whenever we want,” Emilie breathed, chuckling to herself.
Archer rolled off of her, and when he withdrew from where he’d been sheathed inside her body, Emilie felt the loss of him immediately. But when he situated himself across the pillows, pulling her up so that she could cuddle into the crook of his arms, that loss was long forgotten.
“And we get to do it every day,” Archer said, satisfaction lacing every syllable. “For the rest of our lives.”
“For the rest of our lives,” Emilie repeated, smiling softly to herself.
She really liked the sound of that.