Emilie’s voice was shrill with her fear, and loud enough that it was beginning to draw the attention of others. All around them, passersby were turning their gaze toward her, regarding them with questioning eyes.
“He wouldnae have been able to because I was here,” Archer growled. “I never would have let him hurt ye. I would have killed him with me bare hands if it came to that.”
Emilie’s eyes went wide, but they did not shy away from his. She stared up at him, gaze dancing as she studied his face.
Archer wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for. Maybe she wanted to see if he was lying, if he truly would have killed in order to protect her.
How could she doubt that? She saw the way that I stepped in immediately. She heard the words that I told that thug. And I would have done it, too. I would have reveled in it had he laid another finger on her.
But Archer had a feeling that telling Emilie that would amount to next to nothing. No, her believing that he would actually protect her was something that she needed to figure out for herself.
And so, Archer stood there, holding her gaze. He allowed her to continue staring at him, his thumb rubbing what he hoped were reassuring circles on the skin of her wrist.
Finally, something in his wife’s face relaxed.
“Ye’re right,” she finally breathed. “I ken ye’re right, I just got meself all worked up. It was frightenin’, that’s all.”
Her shaking had subsided, and with more than a little regret, Archer let go of her wrist.
“It’s understandable that somethin’ like that was scary,” he admitted. “But I promise ye, I will always protect ye.”
A muscle ticked in Emilie’s jaw, but she nodded, seeming to finally fully accept his words.
Now that the harrowing moment had passed, Archer was more than ready to get into what they’d had planned for the day. So, heturned and tucked Emilie underneath his arm, keeping her close to his side.
“All right,” Archer growled, “We have business to tend to. But while we’re walkin’ ye’re not to leave me side. Do ye understand?”
“Aye,” Emilie breathed, the word low and barely reaching him.
Archer wasted no time. Keeping Emilie as close as he could without impeding his walking, he began to lead them through the crowd, making his way toward their final destination. All the while, he struggled to keep his mind away from just how good his wife’s body felt when it was tucked into his.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“What is all of this?”
Emilie breathed the words, saying them a bit more for herself than she had for anyone else. But that did not stop her husband from answering.
“It’s a distillery,” he explained.
Emilie took several steps, walking a bit further into the nearly cavernous space. It was cool inside, much cooler than it had been when they’d been outside. And Emilie couldn’t figure out how they were doing it.
There were rows and rows of massive barrels turned on their side sitting on shelves. Her skin crawled as she thought about what was within them.
“Why are we here?” she asked, a bit of her judgment leeching into her tone.
Emilie had never been comfortable around alcohol. It was something that the nuns had made sure of.
Many of their sermons, their lessons, and their prayers had surrounded the drink. She had learned from the lips of the nuns how alcohol often turned men into beasts.
“I own it,” Archer explained, his voice gruff but filled with curiosity. “Why do ye seem so uneasy?”
But Emilie could not answer. She barely registered what he’d said after admitting that he owned it.
How could he own a place like this? How could he, her husband, the man that she was married to, have his hand in distributing something that was so incredibly foul?
I’ve never seen so much in one place. I couldnae imagine there ever bein’ so much.
“He must supply all of Scotland,” she whispered, not taking into account how her words would travel in the massive space.