Page 24 of The Duke’s Sworn Spinster (A Duel and a Wedding #1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

“ I called her my darling. Oh God.” Archer leaned his head against his hand, his heart hammering wildly. “This cannot be happening. How did this even happen?”

How can I stop this? His head spun, but he knew it was not from the drink. He stumbled, the wind whipping at his face and neck with a ferocity that nearly drove him to his knees. He tugged his coat closer around him.

He moved deeper into the grounds, hoping the cold air would seep into this bones, would wake him from whatever was wrong with him.

“Archer!” He could hear Lydia’s voice, but he was sure he was dreaming.

He walked faster, wanting to lose himself to the storm. To escape her. He could still smell her familiar perfume; it clung to him just as the feel of her warmth seemed to sink into his bones.

“Archer! Archer, for goodness sake. Stop.” He felt a hand on his arm, and he whirled to find himself staring into Lydia’s eyes.

“What are you doing out here? You don’t even have a coat on!” He glared down at her, standing before him in only her evening dress.

“I didn’t have time. I saw you stumbling into the storm and feared you would get yourself killed.” She tugged on his hand. “Come back to the manor.”

“Leave me alone.” He shook her off. “Go back home; I don’t want you freezing to death.”

“Then come with me. Because I am not going anywhere until you are beneath that roof.” Lydia pointed to the vague outline of the manor behind them. “I will stand here all night, and the pair of us can freeze to death, or you can stop being such a wool headed goat, and we can talk by a fire.”

Archer threw up his hands in frustration. “Will you never listen to me?”

“No. Just as you won’t listen to me. All we will do is out stubborn each other. And it will probably get us both killed.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her lips blue with cold.

With a growl, Archer scooped her into his arms and began to run towards the house. “Damn it.”

He sprinted towards his study where he knew the fire would be roaring merrily and plopped Lydia ungraciously onto the armchair, hurling logs onto the fire and stoking it until it was so hot he could feel sweat forming on his brow.

He looked at his wife, at the colour slowly returning to her lips, and nodded curtly. “I am going to bed. You stay here and warm up.”

“No.” Lydia’s voice was firm, even as she looked at him with nerves in her eyes. “Cora told me—she told me about the pet name. I know what it means to you, what you think it means?—”

“Are you a mind reader now? You cannot hope to know what it means,” he snapped at her, his mind racing.

“I know what your mother did to your father, and I know that if I were in your shoes, that would terrify me.” Lydia stood up, reaching towards him from beneath her blankets, but he jerked away from her shaking his head.

“And it should. She ruined his life; she ruined all of our lives.” Archer gestured around them, running his hands through his hair and curling his fingers into a fist in it.

“And is that what you think I would do to you?” Her voice was small, and it broke something inside of him.

He sensed her take several steps towards him, closing the distance between them as she placed a hand on his left shoulder blade.

It is not you I am worried about. Archer shook his head, his shoulder’s sagging, barely aware of the words falling from his mouth, just the misery that beat in his chest. “It does not matter what I think. Every moment with you is torture.”

Lydia recoiled from him. “If that is truly how you feel, then you should just have been honest with me. If you find my company so unappealing, you should just say it. Say you have no wish to be with me, and we can stop this silly little dance of ours.”

Archer blinked at her, confused “What?”

“It is clear you do not want me, but I would rather you just tell me that than hide behind those who died long ago.” She gave a bitter laugh, wrapping the blankets more tightly around herself. “I let my heart convince me I could be something I am not, and I was a fool. But I… I know better now.”

He shook his head; her words made no sense to him. He squinted at her. “I don’t understand.”

“We have been circling each other, and obviously, I mistook your kindness for something more. Something… different.” She flushed scarlet and cleared her throat as she began to walk past him.

“But I know now that I was wrong. It was silly really; you had already told me that you would never think of me that way. I let myself get too caught up in the moment. That’s all.

If my presence is so tortuous for you, I will go. ”

She made to grab the door handle, and it snapped him back from the dark doldrums of his mind. “No!” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, a desperation in his movement that unnerved him, but he had no more energy to fight it.

“Your presence is not torture because it is unpleasant. To be near you is to be tortured because it is exactly the opposite. To be near you is the most exquisite pain because my body yearns for you. Every part of me wishes to cross the distance, to claim you for my own, and yet, you remain out of reach.” He took a shaky breath, his eyes tracing her face, drinking in every drop of her he could see.

The gentle flutter of her eye lids, the delicate pink of her lips. He lifted his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face gently between his palms, angling it towards her.

“I burn for you Lydia. You consume my every thought, my senses. Every moment that we are not touching feels like a moment wasted, and yet even this…” He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of her, his forehead mere hairs breadths away from hers.

“It is torture to be near you because each moment I feel my control weaken. With every touch, I fear I will lose control.”

“So lose control.” Her eyes blazed hard and strong as the fieriest wildfire.

“Lydia…” Archer moaned, and then his lips were on hers, and nothing else mattered but the feel of her skin against his.

He crushed her to him like she was the only thing that held him to the earth. He tasted her, the feel of her consuming his mind until there was nothing left but the sweet taste of wine and the heady scent of Lydia. And for once, Archer did as his wife bade him.

Lydia had never dreamed that kissing Archer would feel like this. She had no idea where her lips ended and his began, only that she never wanted to find that distinction lay.

She wanted to erase that place, to erase that distance. She felt Archer’s mouth on hers, rough and commanding, yet somehow still gentle. His kiss was not a question, but it was not a demand either.

It was hungry, but so was she. Archer’s mouth was an invitation that she was all too ready to accept. Her hands tangled in his hair, reveling in the dampness of it against her skin, the melted snow mingling with the sweat that trickled down their bodies beneath the heat of the fire.

The heat of each other.

She did not know how long they had kissed, only that when they broke apart she felt like a drowning woman breaching the surface of water and yet also like she had lost something.

“Archer…” she murmured, gazing into his lidded eyes.

“Lydia…” His answer was peppered with gentle kisses, scarcely more than a brush of his lips against her skin, but they set her body on fire.

She understood what he meant when he said that she was torture. He was torture too, and it terrified her that she wanted that torture. Wanted to surrender to it.

But she did it anyway. She started to shake, and Archer tightened his grip around her. She felt it bubbling up in her, and knew she should fight it, but she was tired.

And he had kissed her.

Told her he burned for her.

The words fell from her mouth, devastating in their simplicity. “I love you.”

He stiffened, even as Lydia nuzzled against him. “Do not say that.”

Lydia’s mind swam. “Why?” You know why.

“You do not mean it. You cannot mean it.” Archer’s arms dropped from her, and he took a step away.

The lingering feeling of his kiss made Lydia reckless. Lose control. That was what she had asked him to do. It seemed only fair she do the same. One of us must lead and the other follow—it is about trust.

“I do mean it Archer, and I think you love me too.” She took a step towards him, wanting to rest her hand on his warm chest, to feel the comforting tension of his muscles.

“I cannot love you, Lydia.” His voice was a harsh whisper; the hooded softness of his gaze was replaced by something different, something colder.

“Cannot or will not?” Lydia asked, her own voice becoming like ice as she stared at the man in front of her. Follow me, damn you, follow me.

“It does not matter.” Archer made a dismissive motion with his hand as though flicking away a particularly irksome fly.

“It matters to me, Archer.” Lydia heard her voice as though it were coming from someone else, someone stronger. “I thought you were braver than this.”

“Are you calling me a coward?” He moved towards her, his eyes flashing in the firelight, like pools of molten gold.

“That depends.” She did not back down; she had learned enough by now to know that that was what he wanted. I will not break before you.

“On what?” His jaw was set, a line so sharp it could cut paper.

She took a deep steadying breath, her eyes never leaving his. “On whether you will answer my question.”

“I cannot love you, Lydia. I will not love you.” The words hit her like ten daggers straight to the heart.

“Because of your mother? What she did to your father?” Lydia shook her head, her eyes wide as desperation and fury warred for control. “I am not her, and you are not him.”

“His blood runs through me, just as sure as hers does. You have seen what I can be like Lydia.” Archer swallowed. “Do you really want to be with a man like that? Look at your own parents, look how that ended.”

“Just because our parents were miserable does not mean we are doomed to share their fate. We can do things differently.” She felt the tears forming in her eyes, the lump in her throat. It does not have to be like them.

“How, Lydia? How do you propose we do that when we are already hurtling down the same path? A marriage of convenience turned into something more. This is not some silly fantasy, this is the real world, and it is time to start living in it.” His lip curled, and he turned away from her.

“How dare you talk to me of the real world? Do you think I do not know what the world is like?” She saw red.

“I have spent my life looking after people around me. Sacrificing everything I am so that they might be okay. I watched my mother choose a man over her own flesh and blood; I heard my father’s screams when that choice haunted him.

I have been betrayed by men who were supposed to protect me, and I have thrown myself at the mercy of a stranger. ”

“You chose to marry me, Lydia. No one made you do that. I am not going to give you a medal for martyrdom. You are hardly the only one who has suffered.”

“At least I am not letting the rest of my life be shaped by it,” she spat.

“Sure you aren’t,” he scoffed, his lip curling even further, leaving none of the soft handsomeness she was used to.

For the first time since she had known him, Lydia saw the Duchess in her son. She swallowed, her heart tearing itself into pieces even as she tried to build walls around it. “I’m not, Archer. And if you cannot see that, then it is your loss. Not mine.”

“I cannot do this.” He moved past her as though to leave.

She rounded on him. “You keep saying that, but all I hear is ‘I am too scared to do this.’”

Archer let out a roar and slammed his fist against the nearby chair. “You wanted me to lose control, Lydia; are you happy now? Do you like what you see? Do you still think I am a man worth loving?”

“If you are trying to scare me, you will have to do better than that, Archer.” Lydia’s heart thundered in her chest, but her voice was steady even as some part of her screamed for her to run, to hide. I am done hiding.

Archer was panting, his eyes flashing. Every muscle was coiled tight, like a trap ready to be sprung. Lydia decided it was time to roll the dice. She closed the distance between them, placing a hand on Archer’s chest.

“Our flaws do not make us unworthy of love, Archer. Our actions do.” Please, do not do this. She was not sure if it was her heart beat she could feel or his. “If anything between us was real, if I ever meant anything to you, if you care for me at all, you will not walk out that door.”

For a moment, they stayed, eyes fixed on each other. Archer breathing as though he had run a marathon, Lydia staring up at him, her eyes searching his face desperately.

“I do care for you, Lydia. There is something between us.” Archer’s voice was soft, the anger was gone, but what replaced it stole the wind from Lydia’s lungs: resignation. “But it is not worth the risk.”

I am not worth the risk. She paused, letting his words wash over her. She moved wordlessly away from him, the world fading into the background.

“Where are you going?” Archer reached for her, and she avoided his touch.

“The dowager cottage.”

“It will be freezing. There will be no fires lit, no servants—nothing.”

“I will manage. The refurbishments may make things a little tricky, but I think it will be for the best.” She looked into her husband’s eyes. “Goodbye, Archer.”

“Lydia…” Hope blazed in her heart. For a moment, she was sure he would ask her to stay. That he would tell her that it was all a mistake, but then the light faded from his eyes, and he handed her a lantern.

“You should take this. It will be hard to see in this weather.” His fingers brushed hers as he gave her the lamp.

“Thank you.” Lydia took it and left without another word.

She did not remember how she reached the dowager cottage, only that she did. She barely remembered lighting a fire, crawling into one of the new beds, and curling into herself.

The sound of the wind outside hid the sobs that wracked her body, stealing them into the night with the pieces of her broken heart.