His gaze returned to hers then, and for one brief moment, River saw something foreign in his expression. It wasn’t quite fear; it was a deep, all-encompassing weariness, as though he had spent his entire life waiting for the next blade to appear.
River reached for his hand again without thinking. “Ye're nae alone anymore,” she said quietly.
The words seemed to catch him off guard. Archer looked down at their joined hands for several seconds before speaking again.
“When the attack happened,” he said softly, “me first thought wasnae even about the knife.”
River frowned slightly. “What was it?”
“Ye.”
The single word settled heavily between them, like a stone dropped into a deep lake. River’s breath caught traitorously in her chest, and Archer’s expression turned lighter then, almost teasing again, though something shattered remained underneath it.
“I remember thinkin’,” he said, “that it would be deeply irritatin’ to die before gettin’ ye into my bed willingly.”
River stared at him blankly for a few moments, thinking that she surely must have misheard him, but then she decided that no, that was precisely what he had said.
“There’s the Archer I ken,” she grumbled. His response, a low laugh , ent warmth curling through her stomach.
“Me greatest regret,” he said quietly, “would have been never claimin’ ye.”
It was clearly simply him flirting with her in an attempt to distract her from the matter at hand, but it clearly worked. River’s breath caught once more and she stared at Archer in silence, her lips slightly parted as if she was already expecting to be kissed.
Archer’s fingers tilted her chin upward gently.
“Ye’re thinking too much again.”
River swallowed in a dry throat. “Ye’re one to talk about thinkin’ too much.”
“Do I think too much, ye reckon?”
“Och aye,” said River. “Or at least ye used to.”
Archer’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth and River felt the exact moment her breathing changed. They were so close thatshe could feel every sigh, every twitch in his muscles, and it drove her mad with need.
And then Archer kissed her, slowly this time. His hand slid into her hair as though he already knew exactly how she would melt under his touch. River kissed him back instinctively, one hand gripping the front of his tunic as hours of tension finally unraveled between them.
The kiss quickly deepened into something warmer and hungrier. Archer rose from the chair without breaking it, pulling her up with him, and River’s back met the edge of the table moments later, his mouth moving against hers with devastating patience that quickly destroyed what little coherent thought she had left.
Every touch was igniting something new within her. Her fingers brushed the side of Archer’s face carefully, avoiding the healing wound, and he made a quiet sound against her mouth at the gesture—something softer than desire alone, as though her tenderness affected him more than he had thought possible. He must’t have known much tenderness in his life, River thought.
And in that moment, she vowed to herself she would always be tender with him.
17
“Iwant ye,” Archer said, and River had no hope of ever refusing him. He whispered in her ear, his breath ghosting over the side of her face, and she shivered with the promise of what was to come.
Archer kissed her again, his tongue prodding against her lips until she parted them. With strong, steady hands, he grabbed her hips and lifted her up onto the table, settling between her legs when she sat there. River wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close, pulling him to her until there was no space left between them.
Archer began to pepper kisses on her cheek, her jaw, her neck, drawing soft gasps out of her. She was already shaking, her body filled with need, desperate for some sort of release. This need, this passion she had for him had been building for days, his touch, his kisses, his gaze, all of it teasing her until she couldn’t stand it anymore.
There was risk to it, she knew. There was the risk that she would fall pregnant, which was the very thing neither of them wanted—even if one of them didn’t remember it. But her desire was inescapable. The more she sat there, bracketed by Archer’s arms, lost in his kisses, the more she wanted him to claim her, just like he wanted, too.
Archer’s body was like a brick wall against her own, full of hard lines and muscle. River let her hands trail down his chest, feeling the strength of his body under all the layers he wore, and she revelled at the small sounds he made, as if he could hardly contain them. He pressed closer against her, and River felt the length of his manhood for the first time between her legs, the size of it making her eyes widen.
She didn’t have a point of reference, but it seemed to her that he was, in fact, very large.
“Tell me ye want it, too,” Archer growled in her ear. “Tell me ye want me to have ye.”
