Page 60 of Pippa of Lauramore
“Pippa.” He shuts his eyes and leans toward my touch. “Years ago. I knew years ago, but only when you started looking at me the way you are now did the ache become all-consuming. I can’t think of anything else. The tournament is killing me.”
His hair is soft on my fingertips, and I explore his hairline, trailing to the back of his neck. His lips pass over my temples, his touch so light I’m not sure he’s actually touching my face.
“What do we do?” I’m in agony. Love is agony.
He runs his hands down my arms. “We do nothing.”
I shake my head.
“You can’t be mine, Pippa.”
“Then what is this?” I demand. “Why?”
His hands are in my hair, and his thumbs caress my jaw. “No matter what happens, no matter how the tournament ends, I wanted you to know that I love you.I love you, Pippa.”
I’m afraid of the emotions I’m feeling. Archer’s words wash over me, warming me as he says them, leaving me cold when they’re a memory.
Knowing makes it so much worse.
“Archer…”
He rests his forehead against mine. “You don’t have to say it.”
“I want to say it, but I can’t. It hurts.” I wish I could explain. It doesn’t make sense, but I feel if I say the words—if I hear them from my own mouth—my heart will break completely. I lean against him. “Is this the only moment we’ll have? After this, is it over?”
“It has to be that way.”
I know that. I hate it, but I know it.
This is the only time we’ll ever have, and I feel brave. Archer’s breathing quickens, his chest rising and falling faster than before, when I run my finger along his lips. I stand on the tips of my toes and angle my head.
“This is our moment, Archer. Kiss me.”
He’s gone still. Instead of our lips meeting like I expect, he slowly pulls back, his hands dropping away. “We can’t.”
I can think of a thousand reasons why weshouldn’t. I can’t think of a single reason why wecan’t.
He steps back, creating a wall between us. I take a step forward, reaching out again, but he shakes his head. “Pippa, your ring.”
I glance down at my enchanted purity ring, stunned. “I can’t even kiss you?”
He runs a hand through his hair. He looks as frustrated as I am. “I don’t know what will happen.”
“It will tarnish from a kiss?”
Archer gives me a helpless shrug.
“What if I take it off?” I ask, grasping.
“It would only change once you were to put it back on—if it were to change at all. I don’t know what a kiss would do.”
He looks so off kilter, so helpless. It seems ridiculous and very funny. First, I giggle, and then I break into a full laugh. I stride toward him with purpose. “I’ll take my chances.”
Grasping my shoulders, he looks into my eyes. “Pippa, no.”
“You’re doing it again.” I raise an eyebrow. “‘Pippa, no.’”
“If you weren’t always difficult, I wouldn’t have to say it so often.” He smiles in a knowing way, softening the words.
