Her words were like a balm to his soul, and Archer leaned closer to press a soft kiss to her lips.
“Are ye…are ye happy I’m pregnant?” she asked, and Archer hated how timid her voice was, as if she feared the answer. “I couldnae tell. I truly couldnae tell, with the way ye left…I thought?—”
“I’m glad,” he assured her. “I am, River. I’m very glad, even if it is difficult for me to show it.”
The relief was evident in her face, and Archer wondered just how much distress he had caused her through his actions. He should have been honest with her from the start. He should have told her the truth from the start. He should have told her how he felt about all this, but the truth of the matter was that even he didn’t truly know himself.
“I never wanted to worry ye,” he said. “But I never considered meself fit to be a faither.”
River didn’t speak, and Archer knew it was because she, too, felt the same about herself. It was strange, he thought, how fate had brought them together and made them both parents when theyboth doubted their abilities to parent so much. Here they were, both of them, clinging to the hope that they would be different from their parents, that their child would never grow up to fear or be in pain.
“Me faither…he was a cruel man,” he said, and it felt like a relief to finally open up to someone about this. “Ye ken some of it but…but ye daenae ken the worst of it. I was never his son, River. I was his heir, naethin’ but a pawn to his plans. And as long as I was alive and fit to rule one day, he didnae care what happened to me. He didnae care enough to nae take his frustrations out on me.”
When he was a young child, his mother had protected him. She had turned herself into a shield, taking every beating, every one of his father’s tantrums instead of him. But when she passed, there was no one left to protect him anymore.
He had to learn to protect himself, and so he did.
“River…I never want to be like me faither.”
The look of sympathy on River’s face was almost enough to break him. She reached out with her arms and pulled him closer to her, and Archer settled next to her in bed, curling up by her side, soaking in all the comfort he could.
He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held him like this. Probably never, he thought, not since his mother had died.
“Ye could never be like yer faither,” she assured him. “That’s nae the kind of man ye are.”
“That’s why I didnae wish to have bairns,” he said. “That and…and because I didnae think we were ready, as a clan. I havenae fixed everythin’ that me faither ruined.”
“The clan is doin’ fine, Archer,” River said. “Look at yer people…they all love ye. There nasnae been any real conflict in years. We’re at peace.”
It was true, Archer knew. Everything River was saying was true, and he had no plans to change any of it, to plunge the clan back into pointless wars. Diplomacy was working far better for them than any war ever had. And yet, he couldn’t convince himself yet that it was enough.
He supposed it was better that way. A leader who decided he had done enough for his people would undoubtedly soon turn into a terrible leader.
“Forgive me…for leavin’ like that the other day,” he said then, tilting his head up to look at River. “ thought it would be safer if I kept meself far away from ye. Now with the bairn…I didnae want ye to be in any danger.”
And yet she had been, more than Archer could have ever imagined. She had been in so much danger and he had been oblivious to it, keeping himself away from her only to leave her defenceless against Finlay.
It would have been better if he had stayed by her side. Then none of this would have happened.
“Daenae think about all that now,” River said gently, her sweet voice a whisper in his ear. “Daenae blame yerself. Ye said it…it’s all over now. There is naethin’ for ye to fash about.”
Archer looked at her, staring into her eyes in the dark. She was so beautiful, so radiant, even after everything she had been through. He couldn’t resist the urge to pull her into another kiss, and when he felt her relax against him, melting into it, he gathered her into his arms to keep her close.
“I love ye,mo ghraidh,” he whispered into her ear, burying his face in her shoulder. She still smelled faintly of smoke, but underneath that there was nothing but her scent, sweet and floral and intoxicating. “I should have told ye sooner. I should have told ye more often.”
“Well, ye can do that now,” River said, a teasing look in her eyes. She kissed him again, arching off the bed to meet his lips, and Archer held her tightly, never wanting to let her go.
He craved her. He wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by her—by her touch, her scent, her body, plunging himself into her depths to bring her to pleasure. Her hands roamed all over his body, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles over his clothes, each touch igniting him, driving mad with lust. Archer slipped under the covers with her, his hands reaching for the swell of her breast, so eager to touch, to consume her whole.
River’s response was instant. She moved softly, the sound forcing Archer to buck his hips, his manhood already hardening in his trews. Even he had trouble believing the effect River had on him. No other woman had ever made him feel this way. No other woman could make him go wild with nothing more than a look, a touch, nothing more than her presence by his side.
“I want ye,” Archer said, his voice coming out rough and hardened. River nodded, and he felt the gesture more than he saw it in the dark; it was all the permission he needed. With urgent fingers, he reached under River’s shift and found her bare skin, his palm brushing over her stomach, her ribs, to finally settle over her breast. She was so warm under him, so alive, twisting and turning to get more of his touch, to get more pleasure out of him, and he was glad to give it to her. His fingers pinched her nipple, drawing a gasp out of her, and Archer could already imagine how wet she would be once he touched her folds.
For a moment, he pulled back to rid himself of his clothes. He didn’t want anything to be between them two of them—nothing but skin and flesh, nothing but their bodies becoming one. He all but ripped off his shirt and trews, tossing them to the floor, and then he quickly removed River’s shift as well, leaving her nude under him.
When his body met hers, it was as if he suddenly came alive.
River’s hands found his waist, delicate fingernails digging into his flesh. He hissed at the slight sting, his lips curling into a smile, and he responded by reaching between her legs to findthat spot that always made her toes curl and her head fall back in pleasure, circling it once, then twice.
