weeks,” she quipped, though her chest tightened with wariness. “However, I am unharmed.”
He did not smile at the joke but continued to stare, the square line of his jaw hard as granite. A crimson bead of blood welled up from the corner of his mouth before rolling down the side of his jaw. She had almost kissed that mouth.
“You’re bleeding,” she remarked, unaccountably nervous. A vibrant energy radiated from his broad frame but he held himself so rigid that she feared he might break from within.
Unconcerned, he wiped the blood away with the back of his sleeve. “I told you to wait for me,” he said with deceptive calm.
Her hand shook as she smoothed her rumpled satin skirts. “Yes.”
“You did not.”
“No.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared.
“You… you aren’t angry?”
“Seething,” he said lightly. Silver eyes slid over her, and his lips compressed until the muscle at his jaw bunched. Yes, he was at that.
“Y-yet you aren’t shouting.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. He of all people knew the common response to his anger. “Strange, that.”
Exasperated, she turned away and pulled her gloves off to inspect her bruised knuckles. Archer watched without moving, which only served to unsettle her further. Damnable man.
“You insist on following me about,” he said with a suddenness that made her jump. “Go into places where only a well-armed man or a person of ill repute would venture. Place yourself in situations that even the best fighter would hesitate to go—”
She rounded on him. “Now, I wouldn’t say I placed myself in this situation.”
His eyes narrowed. “I can either conclude,” he went on in a sharper tone, “that you are an astonishingly great fool or…”—his voice rose over her gasp of outrage—“… or you have some reason to believe that you are above danger wherever you go.”
A tight smile lifted his lips. “Based on our conversations past, I cannot believe that you are a fool, so I must conclude the latter.”
Her hands curled to fists. “Ooh, you are smug! You know the logical course would be to call me a fool—” She flushed hot and snapped her mouth shut.
Archer’s brows rose. “Are you calling yourself a fool?”
“No, I am not!” She stamped her foot. “You are!”
He threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed out in the small lane, coming at her from all angles.
Her fists clenched. “You’re intolerable!”
“Because I won’t shout at you?” he asked through his laughter.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked away. Better to ignore the brute. Oh, why had she admitted to being moved by him? A sound of irritation broke from her lips. Despite herself, she glanced his way, and her traitorous mind chose that unfortunate moment to call forth the memory of his tongue sliding over hers, the hot kiss of his breath against her skin.
He blinked in response, his mouth softening as though remembering too. He was silent for a moment.
“I see…” The silkiness of his voice had a ring to it she did not like—like the chiming of warning bells. He took a step closer. An odd half-smile flittered across his lips.
Wariness crawled up her spine. “Archer…”
“I’ve abused your feminine notions of how a husband should conduct himself.” He took another step. “You want me to punish you—”
“No—” The brick wall of the alleyway brushed her skirts. Trapped.
Archer shook his head thoughtfully. “I believe you do.”
She read the intention in his eyes an instant before strong hands whirled her round and her cheek was pressed against the cold, damp wall.
“Is this what you want?” His chest crushed into her back, flattening her breasts against the brick. Icy cold seeped into her skin, setting her nipples to harden as an anticipatory thrill lit through her.
“Hmm?” The hard length of his thigh wedged between her own, impudently pushing past thick folds of gathered crinoline and satin flounces.
“Leave off,” she said through her teeth. She’d be damned if she’d struggle with him.
His laughter rippled through his chest and into her back. To her horror, heat raced down her belly and between her legs. She closed her eyes and silently cursed.
“I tried that,” he huffed against her ear. “You didn’t like it.”
Her eyes flew open as the cold night air hit her calves.
“Archer, stop!” But his hand continued to wrench up her dress. Gone were cautious, gentle touches, replaced by the firm authority of a man who believed his advances were not entirely unwelcome. The bastard.
“Do not pretend you do not know what becomes of