Page 48 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
“I have news,” he said, his voice softening. “I have reason to believe that he never crossed into MacLennan lands.”
Her face fell.
Such a precious thing.
“But,” he continued quickly, “I figured that if O’Gunn has him, he will keep him alive because he’s too valuable of a pawn.”
Her lips parted on a silent breath, her worry plain.
“I’ll find him,” Archer promised earnestly. “Before O’Gunn can use him against ye.”
Eileen stared at him, and something raw and tender passed between them.
Without thinking, Archer reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. She leaned into his touch.
A small yet devastating move.
He didn’t even realize he was kissing her until he pulled back, gasping for air.
It started out soft. A whisper. A breath. A kiss that quickly deepened into something wild and frenzied.
Eileen’s hands fisted in the front of his tunic, dragging him closer with such force despite her size. Archer groaned low in his throat, wrapping an arm tight around her waist, the other cupping the back of her head.
She tasted like mint and honeyed tea—sweet and fresh and utterly intoxicating. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, andshe opened to him with a soft, desperate sound that drove every rational thought out of his mind.
Their bodies pressed together, no air between them. Archer slowly backed her up against the stone wall, never breaking the kiss, deepening it until she was gasping into his mouth.
He nipped her swollen bottom lip, soothed it with his tongue, and then devoured her again, hungry and reverent all at once.
When he finally pulled back, he pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard.
“Ye will be the death of me, lass,” he rasped.
Her fingers tightened in his shirt. “Do ye promise?”
He laughed low, the sound rumbling between them, and kissed her again. This time, it was softer and slower. A silent promise. An unspoken reply.
Tucking her against his side, he led her back through the corridors to her chambers, but not before he had his fun first.
“Ye do realize that ye walk like a wee duckling when ye are lost,” he teased, bumping her lightly with his shoulder.
Eileen gasped in mock outrage. “I do nae!”
“Och, ye do,” he said with a wicked grin. “All stiff-legged and furious, as if the ground offends ye.”
“Mayhap it does,” she shot back, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Walkin’ beside a brute like ye would make any ground weep.”
He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “Is that right? Ye wound me, lass.”
“Ye deserve it,” she said, sticking her nose in the air, though the corners of her mouth twitched.
“Aye, perhaps,” he conceded, flashing her a grin. “But I’d rather suffer yer scorn than be denied yer company.”
She blushed again. “Ye and that silver tongue of yers. I’m surprised nay one has been sent to cut it out of yer tiny head.”
“Only for ye, lass,” he drawled, winking shamelessly.
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her lips.
