“You contain multitudes.”
“Thank you.” She bobbed a curtsy.
“What’s stopping you?”
She gaped. “St-stopping me?”
A bitter dread crawled up her back, the insidious voice of her husband scolding her when she took pudding after dinners, snide remarks about needing new dresses to accommodate the width of her hips. Despite not sharing a meal with the man for years, he’d successfully implanted his own judgment in her mind, transmitting the subtle criticism in his absence.
His curls flopped over his brow as he nodded, but his grin faded as he searched her expression. “Have I said something wrong?”
When had she started chewing her pinky nail? The nagging fear inside her was spinning again, the same one that whispered of horrible consequences if she were to step out of line, a beast she could never ignore. The monster had been in hiding since she first spoke to Archie, but now, would he press her beyond what she could handle?
Her voice shimmered, not quite a full shake but just shy, when she protested. “Archie, I can’t.”
“I’m sorry.” He leaned close, not caging her in but protecting her, buffeting her on all sides. “I don’t know what I said. Will you tell me what I did wrong?”
She realized she was trembling, not from fear but relief. He’d not only read her reaction, but adjusted, accommodated her. Wanted to put her at ease without her even asking. He lifted his hand and pushed a loose curl behind her ear, his fingertips brushing her skin.
Something inside her eased at his care and concern, and she nearly wept for the alleviation of it. “I’m not accustomed to t-taking what I want.”
His breath was warm against her cheek when he spoke. “I didn’t mean to upset you. But I can be a right arse sometimes—a lot of times, especially when I’m trying to impress someone. And I’m trying quite hard to impress you, but I’m making a hash of it.” He took one hand and dragged two knuckles down the length of her throat, and every nerve ending came alive, attuned itself to those few inches of contact, reached for him like a flower seeking the sun.
“I don’t care whether you eat those candies,” he said in a low rumble she felt in her bones. “If you want them, I’ll take the tray myself, sit in front of the fire with you on my lap and feed you each one until they’re all gone.”
“Can we do that instead?”
He chuckled and her cheeks burned. She hadn’t intended to say that part out loud.
“If you’d like. We have many options, my dear. My point is, I’m certain you could do anything you wanted, my Keeper of Bees, Hater of Cabbage, Lover of Caramels. And I want you to be certain, as well.”
A different sort of confidence flooded her, not one born of protecting her children or fleeing her husband, but one entirely forherself, in seeking the joy she wanted, that shedeserved.Yes, a tray of caramels was not a spiritual epiphany (they were bloody good candies, but she was realistic), but a symbolic gesture, a first step towards being independent.
“D-do I have to share them?”
A dimple appeared in his cheek as he grinned. “Not if you don’t want to.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You can convince me.”
Archie beamed and bent in, pressing a quick, lopsided kiss to her lips before pulling away. He froze, and his expression morphed into one of abject horror. “That was our first kiss, and it was awful.”
Her lungs seized and mouth worked, her body too rattled with sensation to respond.
But he had moved in once more, cupping her cheeks with roughened hands, his eyes searching hers. “I can’t believe I wasted my first chance at kissing you with that shoddy effort.” He paused, brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, and her knees softened at the tenderness in the gesture. “May I try again?”
When she nodded, he exhaled his relief, and his lips met hers, reverent but firm as they moved without urgency, as though determined to extract every ounce of pleasure from this simple action.
He was gone far too quickly, and her eyes fluttered open when he chuckled. “Ah, love?” He glanced down to where she gripped the front of his shirt in her fist.
She released it with a gasp, heat rushing to her cheeks, but he caught her hand, ran his fingers over hers, pausing for the barestsecond on the bare space on her left ring finger. “Better than our first, yeah?”
“Yes,” she agreed, nuzzling against the base of his throat.
His hum of approval vibrated against her nose. “Think of how good the third will be.”
“Oy, Archie!”
He exhaled on a groan and lifted his head, as though separating himself from her caused him physical pain. “Yes, Barrel?”
