“Ye’ve only known the lass for a few days,” Marcus mused. “Of course, ye daenae ken her well yet. That kind of stuff comes with time.”
Archer shook his head. “Ye’re misunderstandin’ me. I hate that I’m interested in wantin’ to figure her out. I want her to be dull. I want her to be dumb. I want her to be nothin’ more than the woman I sleep next to at night and the woman that helps raise me bairns. I daenae want, I cannae give, anythin’ more than that.”
Marcus and Paisly shared a pointed look, a silent conversation transpiring between the two of them.
“Arch,” Marcus began, leaning forward to place his elbows on the desk. “Do ye think it’s time for ye to finally move past all of this? I have known ye for me entire life. And I ken what ye witnessed when ye were younger. I ken what yer faither did to ye, and I ken ye daenae?—”
Archer held up a hand, a growl of protest rising in his throat that sent Marcus biting off his words. A worried glance flickered across Paisly’s face, and her eyes darted from one man to the other as Archer seethed at his best friend.
They didn’t talk about this. Never. Not once.
Not when Marcus saw Archer constantly push Martha away, keeping the woman at arm’s distance. Not when Archer knew that the couple had noticed the way he kept a distance from his own children.
And definitely not now, when a woman had come into his life and, for the first time, had started to make him wonder if perhaps he wanted things to be different.
They couldn’t be different. Archer himself couldn’t be different.
And if he allowed his wife and his children to get close to him, he ran the risk of turning into his father. That would do more damage to all of them than his keeping them all at arm’s length ever would.
So, he would not be having this conversation with Marcus. Not now. Not ever.
“Nay,” Archer growled, an order lacing his tone. “We willnae be bringin’ up me faither. It has nothin’ to do with what I’m goin’ through right now.”
The lie fell from his lips with conviction, but despite that, they all saw it for what it was.
His friends knew about Archer’s past. So they knew the lie the moment it was spoken. But something in either his tone or his demeanor had Marcus relaxing back into his seat, clearly accepting defeat and allowing the subject to drop.
“Well,” Paisly said, patting her swollen belly again and plastering a weary smile on her face. “We just wanted to stop in and see ye for a bit. But I can see that ye want to get back to work.”
She was extending him an olive branch, one that Archer gladly latched onto. He nodded at her, waiting while the married couple stood and slowly made their way back toward the door.
“I cannae wait to meet yer wife,” Paisly said, turning to give Archer an encouraging smile over her shoulder. “I’m positive that we’ll be great friends. And then, I can try to keep her out of yer hair.”
Archer just nodded, telling them to have a good evening as Marcus and Paisly disappeared from his view.
He was still for a few moments, the sound of their footsteps fading with each passing second as they made their way away from his study.
Soon, all was silent once more. Leaving Archer with nothing more than a pounding headache and thoughts that refused to focus anywhere but on his wife, and all the ways in which he could not have her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Daenae take me berries!” Louis cried out, swiping the ripe strawberry directly from Aurora’s fingertips before she could take a bite out of it.
“It was nae yers!” Aurora protested, immediately climbing to her knees so she could try to snatch back the fruit from her brother.
Emilie, who was seated next to the twins on a picnic blanket overlooking the sea, shook her head and chuckled.
“There are plenty of berries to go around,” she said good-naturedly, picking up the small basket that Catherine had sent them out with.
It was piled to the brim with the bright red fruit. Apparently, the market had been filled with them that morning. And, knowing that it was the twins’ favorite, the cook had come back with a heap of them.
It had been three days since the kiss. And two days since she’d played games with the children in the library.
She’d seen them every day since, the chasm between her and Aurora closing more and more each day. Most of the time now, it seemed like the girl might even like her.
“But I wanted that one,” Aurora protested, pointing a finger at the berry her brother was now taking bites of.
“Here,” Emilie said, setting the basket of strawberries down on the blanket and beginning to rifle through them. “We’ll look and find ye a big juicy berry. One even better than that one.”