Chapter 11

11

A rcher could not shake off the uneasy knots clamping down in the pit of his stomach. Three days had passed since his return to Devlin. In that time, he had sent over ten correspondences to different Scottish clans announcing his wedding to Laird O'Kane's eldest sister and seeking their alliance on business trades for the winter.

In the time he spent locked away in his study, he tried not to think of Maeve or worry about her either. Now that they were in Devlin lands, his aunt and Jensen's wife could help her ease into her life here. He did not need to bother himself with that, so every curious thought he had towards her could wait.

His mind knew what he had to do, but somehow, images of her smiling while she danced still crept into his thoughts. Sighing, he tossed aside his quill for a second and rubbed a hand over his face.

Archer massaged his temples as an ache started to form there, and he was still seated there with his eyes closed when a soft knock came on his door.

His aunt, Lauren, walked in after peeping into his study. Her smile stayed wide for a second as she greeted him in her usual cheery way.

"Ye dinnae look all right," she stated, coming around his table so she could touch his forehead. "Ye have been locked in yer study since ye returned from England, Archer. Did somethin' happen out there?"

Her light frown made him look at her. "Why do ye think somethin' happen out there?" he questioned before rising to his feet.

"Ye have been withdrawn since ye returned. It is almost as if ye dinnae wish to spend any time with yer new wife. Why then did ye marry her and go through with the weddin' in such a rush without bringin' her home first?"

"It was what she wanted," Archer answered as he massaged the back of his neck to get rid of the tension there. Every part of him felt wound up since he returned, and it took great effort to stay away from Maeve. Every second became increasingly more difficult because he battled thoughts about her.

"Then why have ye locked yerself in here for two days?"

Lauren, his paternal aunt, was the only surviving family he had left, and her return to Devlin six years ago because she believed he needed someone to care for his keep was the best thing that had happened to Archer in a long time.

She had an easy laugh, and even now while she tried to get him to talk, she still smiled.

"Is this about the lass? Yer new bride? Ye dinnae like her?"

Archer's laugh was gruff. "My bride is all right," he answered his aunt. "She is perfect even." He recalled Maeve's smile and the lightness in her tone each time she spoke. He could only imagine what it would take to get her to relax and forget all about the rules she seemed to live by closely.

"She wasnae all too excited to be wedded to a Highlander at first, and I understand it. She grew up proper," he added wryly, "with a lot of rules."

"Ye think she is a proud English woman?"

When Archer didn't answer his aunt, she leaned against his table and folded her arms across her chest. "I think she is scared and all alone in a new land. Quinn and I have tried to talk to her and show her around the castle, but she doesnae talk much and only smiles pleasantly at us the entire time. I think ye can help her settle in better, considerin' she trusts ye, and ye brought her here."

Archer shook his head. He had to avoid spending time with Maeve as much as possible because he did know how he could handle the insistent hunger that devoured him each time she was close.

"She doesnae need me to help her," he countered, shaking his head before he trailed his fingers through his hair. "She has ye and Quinn to help her."

Mentioning Quinn suddenly reminded him of Maeve's back wounds, and a worried frown etched into his features.

"Do ye ken if she has visited the healin' chamber since we arrived?" Archer asked his aunt, facing her while he pursed his lips.

"Nae…I dinnae think she has," Lauren answered. "Why? Is she hurt in any way?"

Archer cursed in his mind as his annoyance took over. Without hesitating, he marched towards his study's door. "I need to speak to her."

The tight wrinkle lines stayed on his forehead as he marched towards her chamber. After a soft knock and no response, Archer twisted the door's knob, turning it open, so he could step in.

The chamber was empty, the bedding perfectly smoothened like no one had been on it. When he closed the door and turned around, he spotted a servant scurrying past him.

"Have ye seen my wife?" Archer questioned her once she curtsied to him.

"Aye, Me Laird. She was going to the healing chamber."

Archer hurried in that direction immediately, and just as he was about to shove the healing chamber's door open, it gave way, and Maeve stepped onto the corridor.

"My Laird," she whispered once she saw him, her eyes flickering over his briefly before she looked to the ground again.

"Did ye come to see Quinn?" he asked, hoping she had come to get her wounds treated. "Have ye had yer back treated since we arrived at Devlin?"

"I…"

He put a finger under her chin and lifted it high, so she met his gaze fully.

"Look at me when I speak to ye," Archer said in a steady yet soft tone. Once again, staring into her eyes filled the pit of his stomach with a fluttery sensation he could not control.

Archer felt his lungs struggle for air, and the resulting heat that swept through his body nearly made him lean closer into her.

"Yes," she answered finally. "Quinn took care of my wounds, and I feel better now."

Her brows drew slightly together a second later, and neither of them said anything more before he released her. "All right." Archer stepped away to put some distance between them because he could smell the scent of roses that clung to her, and it toyed with his senses in an unsettling way.

"I shall see ye at supper," he said, even though he had no intentions of showing up again.

Archer was walking away from her when she stopped him.

"Wait…"

He faced her again, waiting for her to speak.

"Is this how our marriage is to be?" Maeve asked him in a shaky voice. Her eyes shone, and she held onto his gaze without looking away first.

Something stirred in his heart. Archer didn't understand that either. It was a tingling warmth and pricking desire nudging him to go to her in that moment and show her just how he wanted their marriage to be.

He cleared his throat. "I have a meetin' with my council men now, and I shall speak with ye at supper."

"Of course." Her smile appeared tight; her lips pressed into a hard line. Archer could tell that she did not believe he would come, and he did not want to give her any hope, so he turned and retreated while considering the heavy feeling that clamped over his heart.

It is better this way, he thought. If he let himself go to Maeve and allowed the feelings chipping at his heart in, then he might lose control with her. Maeve was a lady…perfect, well taught, and educated. He needed her to better his clan, and so he had used her in that way, but he was a man with a dark past and many demons.

I cannot let meself crave her. I cannot take anything else from her.