“Usin’ that against me,” Emilie muttered, echoing her thoughts. “That was low. That was unkind. That was…”
“I told ye,” Archer growled. “I am nae kind.”
“But ye are nae a monster,” she continued.
Emilie stepped back, trying to give herself a little bit of distance. But the moment that she moved, Archer’s arms darted out.
One of his hands rested on each of her biceps, planting Emilie firmly in place.
“I am a monster,” Archer growled.
His gray eyes were forceful and imploring as they bore into hers, and she got the sense that he was willing her to understand something much deeper than what he was actually saying.
“I am a monster,” he repeated, “I am the thing that other clans use to warn their bairns into bein’ good lads and lasses,” he continued. “I am fierce and protective; I will go to war if it means protectin’ the people that trust me to protect them. And I am trainin’ me bairns to do the same.”
“Which means,” Archer continued, not having so much as a break in his speech or in the way that his eyes were boring into hers, “that ye are trainin’ me bairns to do the same. I willnae have me wife runnin’ around and underminin’ me. Especially nae when doin’ so could impact the lives of every single person that lives on me lands. So, ye will listen to me. Ye will obey me. And ye will raise the twins how I see fit. Do I make myself clear?”
The air had grown too thick. Emilie could not breathe.
Her chest was heaving as she stared at her husband. A fierce, desperate urge to get away had begun to build within her belly.
She didn’t want to be standing this close to him. Didn’t want his hands on her. Not with the desire that was now spiraling through her entire body.
Emilie’s skin felt hot. Like it had suddenly shrunk and was too tight over her bones.
She wanted Archer to remove his hands. And yet, she couldn’t bear the thought of stepping out from beneath them.
“What if I daenae listen to ye?” she murmured, her voice turning husky as the words left her lips. “What if I daenae obey?”
Emilie had never heard her voice sound like that before, thick and filled with need. It fell out of her like dark, delicious honey.
She saw the implications of it wash over her husband. Watched as his eyes darkened, realizing the effect that his nearness and his touch were having on her.
I should step away from him. I have to step away from him.
But still, Emilie did not move. She continued to stare at Archer, waiting for him to speak. Waiting to see what her husband would do next.
“If ye daenae obey me,” Archer said, his own voice dropping low, his desire matching Emilie’s own, “then I will have to punish ye.”
He moved before Emilie had a second to react or even process what was happening. One moment, Archer had his hands on her arms, staring down into her eyes. And then, she was pressed flush against his chest, and his mouth was on hers.
Emilie’s body went rigid. She didn’t know what to do.
Every sense, every nerve registered nothing but Archer. Need coursed through her. A need that she didn’t recognize or fully understand.
Almost entirely of their own accord, Emilie’s arms floated up, wrapping themselves around Archer’s neck. His mouth began to move, and hers matched his.
While Emilie herself didn’t seem to understand what to do, her body did. And, for the very first time in her life, Emilie relaxed and allowed her body to take control.
A sound rose up in the back of her throat as the stiffness left her shoulders and she leaned into the kiss. The taste of Archer rushed into her mouth as his tongue darted forward, parting her lips.
I never kenned it could be like this.
Fire rushed through her, and she leaned into him fully. Archer groaned, his hands coming up to fist in her hair.
He tugged on it, the small bite of pain eliciting a response that Emilie didn’t know how to process. She wanted more. She needed more.
Never in her life had Emilie experienced something like this. She had never been kissed before, had never even dreamed of it.