Chapter 15

15

M aeve rubbed her palms together then lifted them to her lips and blew air on them to warm them up a bit. Lauren had asked to meet her at the drawbridge for their ride out to the moors, and the Maeve had nursed excitement inside the entire morning.

She kept rubbing her palms together and dancing on the spot for a few more seconds. When a breathy voice spoke behind her, Maeve jumped and nearly bolted far away.

"Dinnae run," Archer said, holding onto her arm before she got the chance to flee. Maeve's eyes widened from her shock, and her breath stuttered for a bit. "I am sorry. I dinnae mean to startle ye."

She snapped her lips shut, and nodded as he slowly released her. "I am all right," she answered then whipped her eyes past him to the castle's entrance. "I was waitin' for Lauren. We planned to ride out to the moors together this morning for a picnic."

"A picnic?" Archer asked, raising his brow with a mocking smile tipping the sides of his lips.

"Yes. Do not mock me. Lauren and I enjoy talking, and she wants to show me around the castle."

"I see," he continued with that doubting tilt on his lips. "Is that what she told ye?"

Maeve's brows shot to her hairline now. "Why do you care? Do you not have some letters to read? Or a meeting with your clansmen? Surely there are lairdship duties awaiting your attention this morning, are there not?"

His gaze skimmed over hers, and that tingle returned to her insides. Maeve spent the past few days trying to forget all of it.

His touch, his voice, his kiss… they all plagued her at night with passionate dreams that made her sweat and toss in bed.

"Me lairdship duty today is ridin' out to the moors with ye," he answered her while his eyes swept over the full length of her body in the earasaid she wore.

Maeve felt the tingle spread to her skin. She cleared her throat to push aside the twist in her gut again. "You and me?" she questioned. "In the moors?"

The thought of sitting astride a saddle with him and having his hardened body press against hers the entire ride left her muscles tight with a renewed rush of desire.

"I do not think—"

He took her hand before she could complete her sentence, and the smooth feel of his larger hands on hers stole her words. Maeve burned with a flush and instantly jerked out of his reach.

His eyes flared with a tinge of annoyance. Or was it shock?

"We must discuss," he continued after tucking the brief show of emotion away. "Lauren arranged this picnic for both of us, Maeve, and she will not let us have peace if we dinnae go and spend our afternoon explorin' the moors."

It took some time for Maeve to relax again. "All right," she agreed and turned sharply away from him. Maeve feared she would lean close to feel his warmth if she did not march away immediately.

After that night in his study, she was determined not to request a thing from him again. It was embarrassing enough that each time he came close to her, she melted inside.

Laird Devlin should not affect her this way when she did not even know what he felt or thought about her.

They arrived at the stables, and he led out a giant mare, stroked her mane lovingly, then extended a hand to help Maeve get on the saddle.

"I know how to mount a horse," she said to him before lifting her skirts. Maeve placed one sure foot in the stirrup then swung her weight astride the saddle with ease.

She arched a brow to prove her point was she was seated, and in return, he chuckled a bit.

"All right," he muttered just before a servant came rushing towards them with a basket.

Archer placed the basket in her care before he mounted, and once his warmth enveloped her as expected, she sighed. They rode out in silence after that.

Maeve loved the feeling of the breeze ruffling against her skin as they galloped away. Archer guided her with his arms around her side every step of the way, and when they arrived, he lifted her off the saddle before she got the chance to jump off herself.

She tried to tame her hair with both hands as another heavy gust of wind blasted towards them. An unexpected laugh burst out of her when her body swayed because of its force. Archer was there to steady her once more, and in the next second, he was fighting her wind-blown hair with her.

Their fingers brushed over each other when he tried to help her keep her hair down. He did not pull back, and her eyes lingered on his as the smile on her lips slowly dwindled.

When he stared at her lips, the wild roar of blood in her veins deafened every other sound. She was suddenly aware of her own heart thrashing against her ribcage, threatening to break free.

Archer's hands moved down to her cheek, and his fingers gently caressed till she turned into a pool of lust and began leaning closer to him.

The moment broke when the horse neighed, making them both turn towards it. Their basket of fruit had toppled to the ground, and Maeve laughed again as she stared at the fruit on the ground.

"What a waste," she commented, and she bent over to pick up what she could. Archer helped, and she carefully tried not to let her hands brush over his again.

"Lauren would nae let us hear the end of it if she finds out we wasted any of this," Archer said to her with a smile a moment later. "She enjoys being in charge."

"She has been lady of the keep for a long time now," Maeve said, returning the smile on his lips with ease. "It is only natural that she stays on top of every situation. Just like you are laird and are likely to stay in control."

"When my aunt wants somethin', it doesnae feel like I am in control until she gets it. That is why we are on this picnic."

His breezy laugh tickled Maeve's senses, but the meaning of his words also sank in, reminding her that he would rather be locked up in his study then be here with her right now.

"Of course," she stated flatly, dropping her gaze from his. "I apologize. There are more important duties that you would rather be attending to at the moment."

Maeve walked past him after that, and to her surprise, he followed.

"I did not mean to say I do not want to spend this time with you, Maeve."

"Oh, but you do not! You have made that clear countless times since I arrived in your clan."

He twirled her around with one hand on her arm, and once again, the surge of energy that left her reeling with need returned.

Archer's green eyes fastened on hers. "I told ye I am tryin' to protect ye, Maeve. Ye have to believe me."

"From what? What do you need to protect me from?" she hollered. "I understand you must think I am weak because you saved me from Lord Hampton, but I was wounded then. I am not weak, and I do not need you treating me as such!"

"Maeve…"

"Tell me what you need to protect me from, Archer."

"From meself," he yelled, his sharp, hoarse words made her flinch, and the stroke of intense heat from his eyes scorched her. "I am protectin' ye from meself," he added in a faint voice. His breath turned shaky, and his lips trembled before he cast his gaze downwards.

He paled as he pulled back from her, and Maeve did not know how to react at first, so she slowly reached out to touch him.

"I am nae a knight who saved ye, Maeve. I am a man who has killed and done thin's that make me despicable. I did not marry ye for the right reasons. I took advantage of your ignorance. Your absence from Scotland means you do not know about me clans past…me past."

He looked at her again, and all Maeve saw in his mesmerizing eyes was a mirror of hurt. They turned glassy as he continued, "My faither was the Mad Laird. Years ago, he started a war because a voice in his head told him to conquer the Highland clans. We killed many, burned them alive. We raided villages like savages. We took and destroyed, and I helped him. I helped him because he was me faither. Regardless of what I thought or what I knew was right, I helped him.

"He did not stop even though we suffered many losses. He did not care about his men's lives or the people's safety. The Highland clans soon began to draw up their defenses and protect themselves from us. One day, I returned from war and found me faither standing in a pool of me maither's blood.

"He killed her for tryin' to stop his madness. I ended his life with me own sword and swore right then to right our wrongs, but there is very little I can do alone.

"We are hated, we are alone, and we are weak. Marryin' ye was the only way to make sure yer brother honored his word as my ally. I need ye, and I need yer brother's clan, Maeve, but I must protect ye too because I am nae the kind of man ye deserve to spend the rest of yer life with."

His face contorted in discomfort, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a long second. Meave took in the pinched tightness around his eyes and the grimace burned in his expression. "I am a monster, Maeve, and I cannae take anythin' else from ye."

When she tried to touch him, he winched and drew away from her.

"You saved me from a worse fate, Archer. To me, you are no monster. To me? You are a knight, and you fought to rescue me and my sisters." Her throat tightened as she croaked out the words. Maeve's heart sank with the weight of pity she felt for him. Archer might be the dangerous man her mother warned her abut, but he was also a deeply remorseful one.

She sensed his grief when he looked at her again. Tenderness edged towards him that made her cast aside every restraining thought and fling her arms around him for a tight embrace.

He stiffened at her touch, but she did not let go. Maeve did not know what this feeling meant, but she let it consume her because it felt right.