Page 11 of Reckless Kiss

“Rifling through the drawers already. I’m not dead yet,” the clipped voice of his aunt said from behind him.

Archer thought she was a ninja the way she’d crept in and stood directly behind him without him hearing. Not having perfect hearing was a downside to working in the rigs and the machine noises. It hampered nothing in everyday life, but people creeping up on him would always take him by surprise.

“Just taking a walk down memory lane, Aunt Cynthia,” Archer said.

He plastered a genial smile on his face before he faced her.

“Let’s talk,” she said, walking away to the red velvet sofas by the fire. It was too early in the day for the fire to be lit. However, the sun streaming in the window kept the room warm for most of the day.

He mirrored her position on the sofas precisely as he’d done the previous day. Archer dared not say anything until she was ready. At the moment, his aunt was brushing off invisible dust from her plaid skirt. This was a trait his old headteacher used to do to intimidate him. But hisheadmaster wasn’t a patch on his aunt for intimidation. The uncomfortable wait was excruciating, but he had to keep perfectly still.

“I’ve thought about your proposal,” Aunt Cynthia said.

“That’s great news,” Archer replied, smiling wide.

“Wait until I have finished before you assume you’ll get everything you came here for.”

He felt the whiplash of her words but didn’t physically react.

“I’m listening,” he answered.

“I’ll hand over the business for Edward Hall and the cottages,” Aunt Cynthia said.

“Fantastic,” Archer said and stood.

“Sit back down, Archer Turner,” she said, giving him an icy glare.

Archer returned to the sofa and felt his smile wither away with her continued stare and pinched lips.

“I’ll sign over the paperwork, but there are conditions,” she said, raising her palm when a smile played on his lips again.

“Okay,” he said hesitantly.

“You only get the business itself. You don’t have any hold over Turner Hall or Copper Island land.”

“That sounds fair,” Archer said.

“I haven’t finished.”

Archer kept quiet, keeping eye contact but barely breathing.

“You are to get married before I sign the papers.”

“What?”

“And you have three months, or the deal is off.”

Aunt Cynthia dropped her chin to stare at her lap. She cleared her throat and smoothed her hands down her a-lineplaid skirt. Archer dropped his eyes to her shoes, positioned neatly together and to the side.

“A wife?”

“A wife, Archer,” she answered. “I don’t mean an engagement—a wedding where I am attending. You can get married in the family chapel. A single man living under my roof at your age brings all kinds of trouble. Next, I’ll hear that you’ve got half the town’s single women pregnant.”

“Seriously? What kind of man do you take me for?”

His aunt gave him a hard stare. “You look exactly like your father.”

That comment got a reaction from him. He stood, buttoned his jacket, and stepped away from the sofa. His aunt had agreed to look after them while his dad was on the rigs, but she still harboured so much distaste for him.

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