Page 7 of Never Marry a Highlander (Highland Rules #1)

7

H e did not watch her because he wanted to. Archer just couldn’t help himself; his gaze followed her everywhere. In the day, he noticed she was beautiful. Her brown wavy hair smoothed away from her face allowed him to see every angle.

She had soft auburn brown brows, the same shade of her hair, and a slender nose that perched in the right spot on her face. Her lips called to him too. They were full, plump, small… Her scent was all he could think of as he slowly loosened her sash and tried to free her from the corset.

I do not understand why anyone would do this to themselves.

“I…I’m sorry,” Maeve stammered, cutting into his rolling thoughts for a bit. “For hitting you. I should not have done that. It was not very lady-like.” Her ramble of words made him pause for a bit.

“Un-lady like?” Archer questioned while staring at her neck.

“A woman should never hit anyone. I am sorry,” she apologized then drew in a deep breath. “I thought…”

“Let us not speak about it,” he cut in. Archer’s insides were already a tightening mess of knots, and he did not need her riling him up further.

He focused on her clothing again. Scottish women wore their earasaid with ease. A chemise and petticoat were all there was underneath. It did not make them any less desirable.

His finger slid over the arch of her spine over the light fabric of the chemise she wore beneath. It was not his desire to touch her, but somehow, his finger grazed lightly over her spine again.

Fierce, hot energy surged through him when he heard her low gasp, and right then, he felt every muscle in him tense, but in a different way.

A way that made him pulsate with the growing embers of desire.

Get a grip, Archer.

What was meant to be a brief moment of what he considered freeing her turned into a longer one of slow building tension that ebbed through all of him.

Perfect, he thought. Now he did not only worry about her. He desired her too.

This is not part of the plan. Archer cleared his throat when he realized his thoughts tore at his insides and made him shiver slightly.

What is this? He had never felt anything like it. The stunning rush of desire that left him nearly breathless and caused the hand about to touch her again to tremble.

Archer stiffened in the pit of his stomach and used both hands to pull apart the corset.

“Goodness,” she murmured, exhaling after that as her shoulders sagged a bit lower. “That feels a whole lot better; thank you.”

He swallowed hard because he did not trust himself to speak without sounding like some croaking animal right then. Archer was about to step away from her when he noticed the red streaks soaking into the white chemise under her dress.

“What is …” he touched her back before finishing the sentence, and she cried out in pain, twisting away from him like he burned her with hot coal. “What in the heavens name happened to yer back?” Archer thundered, realizing that the reason why she did not want anyone else to help her out was because she was bleeding under her dress.

“I am all right,” she lied even while she winced in pain and turned away from him. “You cannot tell anyone.” Her wide eyes showed fear as she grabbed his hand and shook her head. “Please you cannot.”

“Ye are bleedin’… Who did that to ye? Was it the Earl? What exactly did that man do to all of ye while ye with him?”

There was no holding back the red, hot, anger sweeping through him. Archer reached for her again as her breathing turned noisy, and she kept shaking her head while refusing him.

“Please, you must not tell anyone…Not my sisters and definitely not my brother.”

“Ye should be more worried about yerself right now, lass,” he growled before turning her around with both hands. His grip pinned her to one spot, and he lowered the sleeves of her dress, exposing her chemise.

Archer did not care if he had to take off all of her clothes to see what was wrong with her. The tingles of desire slowly rising in him earlier disappeared. Only the raw, tightness in his nerves remained. His chin hardened as he pulled up her chemise while leaving the skirts of the dress on her waist.

Her slender back had countless red streaks on it, like someone had raged on her with a whip.

“Christ,” he ranted again before cursing in a flowing rush of rapid Gaelic. “How could they do this to ye? How can he …”

Archer had seen a lot of violence during the mad war. He fought with men who died before him, and he had killed countless many, yet his guts coiled with a rolling wave of nausea.

He had one rule he lived with even through the dark chaos of the past six years in his life. Never hurt the old, weak, or young.

This was against everything he believed in, and he could not keep this secret. Not when every part of him wanted to kill the one who did this to her too.

“If ye tell yer brother, he will…”

“If I tell my brother, he will march back to the Earl’s household and risk his life to seek vengeance for me. I do not want that. I want to get far away from England and never look back!”

The look in her eyes changed to a fiery one, and her chin stayed hardened. For the first time, she sounded steady, and he held onto those stern eyes for a long time. “I do not want my brother to go back there and fight. All I want is to go home, and you will keep this secret for me because you do not want a war either.”

“Oh, but I want a war…I want to rip the one who did this to ye to shreds and…”

“I do not want that right now.” Maeve touched his hand, and her soft touch made him whimper. When he met her eyes again, he noticed the plea there. “I want to never go back there again!”

An overall weakness overcame him as she demanded his secrecy. Archer could not understand why he easily gave into this woman’s every request. His guts squeezed together with a slow surge of anger now as he drew in a breath to settle his insides.

“I will kill him one day,” he said fiercely to her as she searched his gaze. “I promise ye this today, Maeve. I will make sure I kill the man who did this to ye.”

To his surprise, a smile curved on her lips, and she nodded.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For saying that, but you do not have to…”

“I mean it,” he growled. “I will kill him.”

Archer lost himself and tugged her close to him for a hug. He expected resistance, but Maeve sank into him with ease, and her warmth enveloped him.

He sighed when her arms moved around his waist, and breathing made him inhale the sweet, floral scent of her hair. He buried his face in her hair and dragged in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the blend of roses and lavender that invaded his senses.

Archer was so lost in the sensations tunnelling through him as he held her in his arms that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching. She moved her head, and he was forced to pull back slightly from her.

“Archer,” she mumbled when he stroked her chin. The look in her eyes turned glassy, and he forgot to breathe as he beheld them closely. It was almost as if she was lost in his eyes too. Archer hoped that was what the solemn look in her eyes meant.

He didn’t understand why he needed her to know this, but he said the words anyway. “Nae one will ever lay a finger on ye ever again. I protect me own, Maeve, and as me wife, ye will be a part of my family. That makes me responsible for keepin’ ye safe.”

She sniffed, and his eyes dropped to her lips. Tender flutters stirred his heart as he beheld her round eyes and lost himself in their endless blue depths.

A magnetic pull he couldn’t resist caused him to inch closer to her. Blood rushed to his head and made him swoon. Archer was always alert and steady, but right then, he felt like a child needing guidance.

I’m drowning. He could sense himself falling, but there was nothing he could do to stop the tides sweeping him away. He felt the warmth of her breath and realized that his lips were only inches from hers then.

“Maeve?” Flynn’s guttural yell boomed around them, breaking through the passionate moment. Archer released Maeve abruptly just in time for Flynn’s clenched fist to collide with his jaw.

“How dare ye…She is only promised to ye, and ye willnae treat her with respect? How do I trust that ye will when ye two finally wed?”

Flynn levelled another blow into Archer’s jaw before he could defend himself, and the force of the punch made Archer stagger back.

“Flynn,” Maeve cried out, grabbing her brother’s hand to stop him. “It is not what you think. He did not do a thing to me.”

“Tell me right now that bastard laid a finger on ye, and I will end him right here…”

Archer growled and massaged his jaw. Maeve stepped between both of them and spread her arms out wide to protect him from her brother’s wrath.

“He did nothing but help me,” she insisted. “Flynn…”

“Do not defend me,” Archer called from behind her, hating how she tried to plead with her brother on his behalf. Maeve ignored him and kept her eyes on Flynn.

“He did nothing, brother…Trust me. He did not lay a finger on me. I asked for his help. All he did was help me.”

Flynn’s chin stayed in its hard set even as he slowly nodded in response to her words. Archer worked his jaw muscles, and he wiped the blood on his busted lip away furiously.

“Please,” Maeve pleaded again and touched her brother’s hand.

“Do not disrespect me sister, Laird Devlin. We might have an alliance, but I willnae stand for it,” Flynn warned in a raised voice, his eyes still cold and flinty.

“I would never think of it. Contrary to what ye might think of me, I am a gentleman, Laird O’Kane, and yer sister is a lady that is promised to me. I dinnae need to disrespect her when I shall wed her in the end.”

Flynn reacted to his words by lurching forward again, but Maeve stopped him.

“Stop it,” Maeve cautioned him and glanced over her shoulder. “You only rile him up further.” Those eyes caused his insides to shiver slightly again, renewing the flames of his growing desire for her, and he did not care what her brother thought of him as he let his eyes travel over her again.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, he thought nearly growling out the frustrated words. Why did she make him feel this way?

The feeling made him feel alive in many ways. Nothing compared to it—not even the rush of energy that charged through him while he was in battle.

He needed Maeve for his reputation, but with this burning hunger for her, Archer doubted there would be any salvaging him if he took her before they made it back to Scotland.

Even the thought of having her in his arms again thrilled him.

I must stay away from her—at least until the wedding. Because she had to give herself to him if he would ever touch her in the way he already desperately craved to.