“Well, they’re gone now,” said River when Archer made no effort to move. “Ye dinnae have to be so close.”
Archer didn’t move, nor did he speak. Instead, he only stared at her—first her eyes, then her lips, then even lower, as if he wasappraising her once more. And River, despite it all, was filled with heat, need running like molten metal in her veins.
He was close enough that she could kiss him. His lips hovered above hers as he bent over her, bringing their faces closer together. All it would take was a breath, a tilt of the head. All it would take was some courage.
River didn’t have that courage, and a part of her was glad for it.
“Let us spend the first night together tonight,” said Archer, catching her by surprise.
River let out a long-suffering sigh, trying to step past him. Archer, though, was quick to block her way, stepping in front of her and not letting her go. River tried again. Again, Archer did the same.
“Are ye serious?”
“Of course I am,” said Archer. “Why wouldnae I be?”
“Are ye serious right now?” River demanded. “Let me go.”
“Nay.”
“Archer, ye’re nae a bairn!”
“I will let ye go if ye promise me we will spend the night together.”
River glared up at him, her mouth twisting into a grimace of disapproval. She didn’t want to spend the night with him. She didn’t want to find out what would happen if she did.
“Let me go,” she repeated.
“Nay,” said Archer.
Did she truly have a choice in the matter? She had no doubt Archer wouldn’t move unless she agreed, and her current situation was almost unbearable. One more moment in his presence and River didn’t know what she would end up doing. Perhaps she could find a way to avoid spending the night with him once she was away from him and could finally think properly, without his chest as a distraction.
“Fine!” she cried. “Fine...I’ll spend the night with ye. Now let me go.”
For a brief moment, Archer didn’t move, and River feared he never would. But then, he stepped aside, finally letting her go.
She was out of that room before she even knew it, leaving the door wide open behind her, her feet carrying her quickly down the hallway. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her palms were damp with sweat. And through it all, that persistent need lingered, warming her from the inside.
She didn’t look back. She doubted she would like what she’d see.
6
The letter burned through River’s pocket. She could feel it there, even if it was a small, almost weightless thing—nothing more than a parchment folded up and stamped with her brother’s signet. The man with the sword in his right hand and the crown by his left was instantly recognizable to her and to everyone else who knew of her clan, and River had quickly placed it in her pocket, hiding it there ever since the messenger had delivered it an hour prior.
She didn’t want to read it. She wasn’t going to. There was an entire drawer, locked and forgotten, where she kept Aidan’s letters.
What if he blames me for what happened to our maither?
“Look!” called Colby next to her, pointing out of the window. “The sun’s out again.”
River glanced out of the window over her shoulder. It was true; she hadn’t noticed it, but her sitting room was bathed in light once more, even though earlier that morning it looked as though it would rain. The wind had quieted down and the clouds had parted, and she hadn’t even noticed because she was too busy thinking about that damned letter.
What if he kent what our maither did? What if he helped her try to kill those women and those bairns?
What if he helped her kill Arya’s and Colby’s maither?
River’s fingertips brushed against the plush velvet of the couch where she had been sitting for the better part of the past hour, while the children played on their own. They had noticed something was wrong with her; they always did. Every time, River assured them she was fine, but on the days when she received Aidan’s letters, it was harder to pretend.
They had been close once. They had been close, and now River was accusing him of terrible things in her mind.
