Page 87 of Pippa of Lauramore
“Don’t be stupid.”
I raise my eyebrow. “You either.”
He holds the door as I race to the end of the hall. Hearing their yells, I know I don’t have much time, so I slip in without knocking.
There’s no lamp burning, and the room is dark. I fearhe’s not here. Maybe I’ll wait for him to find me instead. I turn back to the door, wondering how I can slip out of the hall without being seen.
I toy with the latch on the door, trying to decide what to do, when strong hands grab me, and a hand cups over my mouth to keep me quiet. I only just realize there’s a knife held to my throat when the hands fall away.
“Pippa?” Archer asks, his voice incredulous in the dark.
“Archer?” I gasp to catch my breath. I feel like my heart is going to explode.
“What are you doing here?”
My eyes are beginning to adjust to the darkness, and I can just make out the shadow of his form.
“What am I doing here?” My voice is testy from the scare. “I came to see if you are all right. I came to see if you arealive.”
“I’m fine.” He sets his hands on my arms, rubbing them softly.
My irritation slips away, and I settle my back against the door, enjoying the sensation of his hands moving over my skin. “Who did you think I was?”
He laughs. The sound of it washes over me, making me warm. “I thought it might have been Lionel. If he knew what is between us, what we are, he’d try to kill me.”
“What are we?” I ask, and I’m alarmed my voice is as breathy as it is.
His lips hover near my hairline. “We’re foolish.”
I murmur my agreement, and his lips trail over my temple.
“We’re impulsive.” He moves his lips to the side of my mouth. “We’re doomed.”
“I missed you,” I say. “More than I can tell you.”
Archer moves to the other side of my mouth, never touching my lips with his. “I don’t know how I will live without you, Pippa. You’re all I could think of. Every moment.”
“Kiss me.”
He pauses as if he’s fighting himself. “I can’t.”
His lips hover over my jaw. Tears sting my eyes. I could have been with him. If I’d admitted my feelings before the tournament, we could have eloped.
“Archer…” I say, my voice anguished.
“I know.” He brushes his lips against the crook of my neck. He barely touches my skin, but the sensation fills me with exquisite agony. My heart is full, but it breaks at the same time.
He sets his chin on my shoulder. I hiss in pain—not emotional turmoil—but true, actual pain that shoots from my wound.
Archer’s found the bandage. He pulls back. “Pippa, what is this?”
Suddenly, he’s gone, and I hear him rummaging in the dark. There are sparks from a flint, and then a candle lights, illuminating the room in soft light and shadows.
He tips my head to the side so he can get a closer look at my shoulder. I hiss as he lifts the bandage. I should have changed it this evening. Dried blood sticks to both my skin and the cloth, fusing the two together.
“Pippa,” he whispers. “What happened to you?”
“Glasseln.”
