The first thing she saw was a great roaring fire; the second was a very hairy man with familiar amber eyes and an ashen face.
“You’re awake.” Archer’s voice was rough, as though he had been shouting for several hours. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“Archer? What happened?” She felt him press a gentle hand against her shoulder, making her sink back into the bed. With a start, she realized she was in his bed. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a bowl of steaming soup.
“You gave me quite the scare.” Archer looked at her as though he could not quite believe what he was seeing. “You have been… unconscious for three days.”
“Three days?” Lydia choked. “Iris. Is she okay? Where is she? Is she safe?”
“Calm down. Iris is fine.” Archer made soothing motions with his hands. “A little bruised—apparently you are rather strong when you have a mind to be.” His smile did not quite reach his eyes. “You got her to safety.”
“That is good.” Lydia leaned back, the roar of the fire soothing her.
“This is all my fault.” Archer’s voice was so raw that Lydia almost did not recognize it.
“What do you mean?” She perched herself onto her elbows.
“You should rest—” Archer began, but she arched an eyebrow at him.
“Archer, I want to know what you mean. If you need me to rest, then help prop me up with pillows.”
Archer nodded and did as she suggested.
“You were the one who pulled me from the river, weren’t you?” The arms that she had thought were death’s. They had been Archer’s. Her heart beat a little faster.
He nodded.
“Why?” Lydia asked.
“Are you seriously asking me that?” His eyes widened. “Even if I did not love you, there is no way I would have not tried to save you.”
Lydia blinked. “What did you just say?”
The little skin not obscured by Archer’s beard turned a delicate shade of pink, and he cleared his throat. “I love you, Lydia. I should have said it that night. I should have told you a thousand times or more. I should have never let you go.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Lydia’s voice was cool.
“I was an idiot.” Archer hung his head.
“And a fool,” she added.
“And a complete and utter ass.” His eyes met hers, searching but not expectant.
Could you love an ass?Lydia kept her face as neutral as she could manage.
“You broke my heart, Archer,” she said, and he winced.
“I know. And I will spend the rest of my life regretting it,” Archer began, but Lydia did not let him finish.
“You said I was not worth it—” Her voice broke, and to her shame, a tear rolled down her cheek. “Do you know how it feels to tell someone you love them and have them say something like that to you?”
“Lydia, if I could steal the sun and turn back time I would. I would prostate myself before you and whip myself bloody. I would do anything you asked to prove just how sorry I was.” He took a steadying breath. “But even if you do not forgive me, I need you to listen to me now.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I do not wish for you to carry a wound that is not yours. When I said it was not worth it, I did not mean that you were unworthy—far from it.” He took her hand gently in his, his eyes holding her in place like magnets. “I meant that I was. I was not worth your love. I did not think I could be trusted with such a gift. I thought, no, I was terrified of being my father, or at least that is what I told myself, but in truth, my greatest fear was that I would become my mother.”
Lydia thumped him on his arm. “You great, lumbering oaf. How could you think that? How could you think so little of yourself? How could you think so little ofme?”
