Chapter 21

21

M aeve enjoyed supper that night better than she had enjoyed any meal in a long time. She kept thinking about Archer as a servant helped with her bath water. Soaking in the steam helped her tense muscles relax, but there was one thing that would make her feel even better tonight.

Archer, she thought, trying her best to suppress her smile as the servant helped soothe some oil over her skin.

"Will ye go to the Laird's chamber tonight?" the girl asked sometime later when Maeve sat in front of a mirror and let her brush through the strands of her hair.

"Why?" Maeve questioned. "You think I should go there tonight?"

Flutters sparked in the pit of her stomach at the thought of going to Archer's chamber. She had not thought of that since she arrived here.

"Ye can call on the Laird, Me Lady…Make him come to ye," Dahlia suggested. "There have been rumors around the castle. Many of the servants dinnae think that ye and the Laird have consummated yer marriage yet. It is because ye two have never shared a chamber. The keep servants notice these thin's."

Maeve blushed furiously, and she covered her cheeks with her hands. The last time she talked to Archer about their marital duties, he kissed her rakishly and sent her away. Maeve did not think Archer wanted to do that with her.

What if I am wrong? After listening to Jensen's story and seeing him at supper today, she understood better that he was a man used to his loneliness. He was surrounded by people, and yet he had no one.

I want to be the one person he can have. And she wanted to have him next to her to. She made the decision rapidly and drew in a deep breath after. "I will go to the Laird's chamber tonight," she said to Dahlia with conviction then toyed with some strands of her hair.

It took a long time before Dahlia left Maeve's chamber. She stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long time then smoothed a hand over the silk night dress she wore.

When Maeve arrived at Archer's chamber, she hoped he would be in there, not locked away in his chamber as always. She knocked once, heard his grumble from inside, then twisted the doorknob and let herself in.

Archer stood by the window, and he turned to look at her once she closed the door.

"Maeve…" He closed the distance between them and took her hands before she got the chance to say anything to him. "I was goin' to come to ye tonight," he began in a raspy voice, his eyes shaky and voice breathless. "I am sorry about the other night when I yelled at ye…I make no excuses, but I am sorry. I would never hurt ye, Maeve, and I dinnae want ye to be scared of me because of my past or…"

Maeve couldn't bear listening to his apology, so she placed her right hand on his cheek. "Stop," she murmured. "Do not apologize, Archer. I am not scared of you; I can never be."

His fingers covered hers, and she held him, gathered her courage, lifted herself on tiptoe, and pressed her lips to his for a kiss. Tonight, all she wanted was to be there for Archer. All she needed was him.

Archer kissed her back. His tongue slid into her mouth, and he pulled her close to his body, so she fit right against every plane. He toyed with her hair, stroked, caressed, and took her to higher heights of passion.

They both panted when she finally pulled back, and Maeve could hear the thunderous beat of her pulse and heart blending into one in. Her senses had never been this aware of anything, of anyone.

She did not know what came next, but she wanted to find out.

Without hesitating, she reached for the sash of her night dress, tugged once, and let it fall to the ground.

"Maeve," Archer trembled then turned away from her immediately "Dinnae do that…Please dinnae."

She touched his shoulder to turn him back around, but when he still made no move, she walked around to stand in front of him.

"I am not afraid of you, Archer," she said to him in a steady voice as he kept his head low and away from her. Maeve stood in and the cool night's breeze filtered into his chamber from the open windows. It kissed her skin and made her shiver slightly.

"Make me yours, Archer. Make me whole."

Her heart drummed wildly, and she feared he would not look at her still. "Am I that terrible?" Her lament made him lift his head.

The wild look in his eyes was one of undiluted passion.

"Nae," he muttered. "I am terrible, and I shouldnae…" His eyes skimmed over her as she spoke, and another low growl erupted from him. "Oh, Maeve." The desperate whisper ended with his lips savoring hers and teasing till she parted and gave herself to him.

Archer carried her to his bed with quick strides, and once he climbed in with her, his kisses moved to her neck. His hands curved around her waist, molding her to him.

Her legs parted of their own volition, and he rocked his hard thighs into her. Maeve touched him all over, too. Her fingers skimmed over his hair, his cheeks, and his smooth stubble.

He groaned when she slid her hands down his chest and over the bulge under his kilt. Maeve whimpered from the hardness she felt there.

"Ye are perfect," he drawled over her skin. Every word was followed with a brush of his hot breath. The hairs on her skin tingled, and her nerves rose and twisted towards the perfect end of desire.

Her toes curled when his kisses reached her abdomen, and he kept whispering words she did not hear over the roar of her blood reaching her ears.

"Archer," she cried out when he licked her, widened her thighs, and she held them pressed against his bedding. He drew in a deep breath then kissed her sweet spot again. "Oh, Archer…oh…"

He kept flickering his tongue over her, and his hands traveled to the swell of her breasts again. Maeve thrashed her head from side to side on the bed as the pressure built inside her.

She loved his kisses. She wanted more of them—wanted him to keep on going until she was set free. When the pressure heightened, she glanced down and found his thumb circling over the top of her entrance.

His eyes were dazed with the same feverish passion enveloping her. Her fingers found their way into his hair, and Maeve instinctively rocked her hips closer to him as if she had done this countless times.

He called her name with a thudding sound as he buried his face in between her legs again. This time, she stumbled over the edge, and her vision blurred for a second as the tidal waves of explosive climax swept her away.

Maeve quivered beneath him as he kept on tasting and taking in all of her essence. She felt alive, different too, and somehow, all of that only made her desperate for more of his touch.

When he trailed kisses up the length of her body and got to her lips again, she tasted herself on his tongue. Archer's eyes stayed close, and he gathered her even closer to his chest.

He buried his face in her hair and drew in her scent. "Stay here tonight," he mumbled, shifting, so he could nuzzle the side of her neck.

His fully clothed body was nothing compared to her warmer one. Maeve wanted his naked skin on hers, so instead of replying, she reached for his leine and began undoing the buttons.

"Maeve…" His deep timbre sent vibrations all through the chamber. He seized her hands and held her gaze steady. "I maynae be able to stop myself," he told her.

"I do not want you to," Maeve answered. "I want you tonight, Archer…All of you."

Still, he held back even as she tried to touch him. His grip on her wrist tightened, and he drew her down on the bed, so she lay against his chest. "I want to sleep with ye tonight," he said instead and traced out a path on her arm as he kissed her. "I find that I dinnae sleep at night—nae when I have a lot on my mind."

His breathing slowly grew even, and his caress on her hand gradually started to subside. Soon, Maeve heard his steady breathing and raised her head to find him fast asleep, his lips slightly parted in a snore.

She smiled, suppressed a laugh, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. Maeve soon fell asleep right next to him, but the blissful sleep only lasted a while before her nightmares took over.

Maeve dreamt of the dark cellar in the Hampton household and the heavy stench of brandy on his breath. His steely blue eyes held the tinge of his mocking laugh. His lips sneered to one side, and the rumble of his cackle was all she heard before he shoved her hard against the door and brought his lips to her ear.

"Kneel before me, or I shall whip your sister's beautiful skin to shreds. Which would you prefer? To kneel before your master or to see your sister writhe in pain, begging me for mercy?"

"Please…do not hurt them. I beg of you… hurt me, instead. I will do as you wish," she murmured in distress, unaware that her voice had crossed into reality, and the man she pleaded with for mercy was nothing like the monster who hurt her.