Page 16 of Taken by the Devilish Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #7)

“ W hat are ye two laughing about?” Holly asked, stepping in from the garden with a basket full of herbs.

Ayla and Feya stood in the healing chamber, crushing seeds and roots to form powders. Feya had been quizzing Ayla on these ingredients, asking her about the important uses of turmeric or cinnamon. But their conversation continued to veer toward their trip to the village yesterday.

“Feya was teasing me about me dancin’,” Ayla laughed. “But it’s not me fault I didn’t learn the country dances growing up.”

“And what good would those serve ye?” Holly asked.

Feya saw her grimace in pain as she walked to set her basket on the table.

With the threat of rain outside, Feya had a feeling Holly’s knees were hurting her more than usual.

“Unless your planning to pick out your husband from the village. I doubt your brother would like that.”

“Nay,” Ayla agreed. “He hates the idea of me becomin’ a healer, but I venture he’d actually prefer it to me marrying below me station.”

Feya took the basket from Holly with a smile. She had been working on something in her spare time, tinkering away when she was waiting for one of Archer’s mixtures to boil or seep. She wondered now if she should bring it out.

“Your brother only wants what’s best for ye,” Holly said. She walked slowly to a chair and sat down with a groan. “He doesn’t want ye to end up old and alone like someone else he kens.”

“Don’t say that, Holly,” Ayla said, shaking her head. “If I could be half of the healer ye are, I would be quite satisfied with me life.”

Holly lifted a hand and brushed the compliment away like she was swatting a fly. Feya eyed the glass jar of salve that sat in front of her, the new mixture she had been experimenting with.

“Holly,” she said before she could lose her nerve. “I’ve made ye something.”

She lifted the jar and crossed the room, watching Holly’s eyebrows rise toward her white hair.

“For me?”

“Aye. For your knees. I’ve been experimenting with willow bark and ginger. Ye can rub this on your joints and see if it helps.”

She held out the gift, and Holly took it with a nod.

Feya had a sudden flash of Archer throwing the vial of liquid to the floor, rejecting her healing.

She wondered if Holly would do that now.

But then Holly smiled at her, and Feya relaxed.

The woman was often serious, but when she was happy about something, she made it known to people. Feya could tell she was pleased.

“Alright,” she said, breaking the solemnity of the moment.

“Let’s see what sort of healer ye truly are.

” She gave Feya a wink as she pulled her skirt up to reveal her angular knees.

Feya and Ayla laughed at her boldness, but they were well accustomed to seeing bodies of all ages and sizes in their line of work.

As Holly tried out Feya’s salve, Feya returned to Ayla. Her argument with Archer was still fresh in her mind, and she thought of it now. In truth, she had thought of it in every moment of silence they encountered all morning. What had she said or done to make Archer so angry?

But as soon as she asked the question, she heard the voice of an old teacher in her head: Ye cannae heal someone who doesnae wish to be healed.

Is that what was happening with Archer? Or was there something else going on?

After the kiss they shared in the village, she thought she was reaching him.

That perhaps everything she was doing to help might be working.

But his episode in council chambers yesterday seemed to erase any progress they had made.

“I hear Donovan O’Leary has a great respect for the healing arts,” Ayla mused as she pressed hard against the seeds in her mortar. “Perhaps he wouldnae mind if his wife kept up the practice.”

Ayla’s comment was a sharp reminder of her impending marriage.

Archer had told her she could choose a man herself or he would choose for her.

Feya tried to read Ayla’s face, wondering whether her comment was meant as a joke, but she couldn’t make out how Ayla was feeling about all of this.

There was something that had been bothering Feya for some time, and she decided that now was the time to ask it.

“Can I ask ye something?” she asked quietly. Ayla was focused on the mortar and pestle in her hand, methodically crushing the black seeds as she pushed them into dust.

“Um-hmm,” she said. She looked peaceful at this table with the morning light streaming in through the windows. Sometimes Feya caught her humming to herself, lost in her own thoughts.

“Why is Archer so insistent that ye marry? Why doesn’t he want ye to become a healer?”

Ayla was surprised by the direct question, and she looked up from her work.

She had been making short quips and jokes about getting married ever since Archer’s ultimatum, but when it came to speaking honestly about it, Ayla often avoided the question.

Feya wondered if she would answer and almost apologized for overstepping, but then Ayla shrugged her shoulders, and true frustration crossed her face.

“I have no idea,” she said. “I’ve asked him why it’s so important. He doesnae need me future husband’s wealth or even any alliances. Archer has done a fine job securing his position all on his own.”

“Speaking of the Laird,” Holly said, tossing her skirts back over her lower legs. “It’s time for his medicine.”

Feya or Ayla had been delivering Feya’s latest drink to Archer twice a day, hoping to find the right mixture that would stave off any episodes. Feya usually went in the morning, where she would frequently find Archer locked in his study, scheming with his man-at-arms or handling his correspondence.

“Would ye go?” Feya asked, looking at Ayla. The shadow of their encounter in Archer’s bedroom last night made Feya ask it. “I’d like to finish this.”

She glanced at the glass in front of her, flower petals and spices floating on the surface. It was a silly excuse, since it would take no more than ten minutes to deliver today’s drink to Archer. Feya narrowed her eyes at Feya.

“Is this about last night?” She asked. The girls had spent so much time together, it was no surprise Ayla was able to read Feya’s hesitation. “I knew something happened.”

“Nay,” Feya said. “It was nothing.”

“Did he raise his voice?” Ayla asked. Her eyes were probing, making Feya feel far too exposed, so she simply kept her mouth closed. “I kenned it. It always happens when he feels exposed. He cannae stand to look weak.”

“It was nothing,” Feya insisted, but soon Holly was there too, nodding along with Ayla.

“I’ve seen him when he’s in one of those moods,” she said. “He’ll say whatever he can to push people away. If he wants ye out of the room, he’ll do everythin’ he can to get ye out.”

“It was me own fault,” Feya said. She felt a need to defend Archer, wanting to protect him from Ayla and Holly’s judgment. “I shouldnae have pushed him. He was confused. I should have let him be.”

“Nay,” Ayla said. “That’s what he wants—to push ye away. But he’ll never get better if he doesnae let ye near him.”

“It’s true,” Holly agreed. “We cannae walk away just because the sick tell us to. What sort of healers would we be then?”

Feya considered this, remembering the reason she had come here.

She had told Archer she would heal him before returning to her family.

But if he refused to try what she offered, then what was she doing here?

A flash of Archer’s lips on her neck made her blush, but she pushed the thought aside.

She couldn’t let thoughts of kissing Archer distract her.

“You’re right,” Feya nodded. “He brought me here to heal him. He must let me try.”

“That’s it,” Ayla smiled, pleased with the fight she saw in Feya’s eyes. “Ye must stand up to him when he’s like this. Get him somewhere he can’t leave and talk things out. It’s the only way to get Archer to actually tell ye what he’s feeling.”

“Somewhere he can’t leave?” Feya asked with a laugh. “He’s the Laird of this castle. He can leave any room he wants to.”

Ayla shrugged as she turned back to the work in front of her, gripping the pestle with force. “Ye’re the healer,” she said, a smirk on her lips. “I’m sure ye’ll think of something.”

The women fell into silence, the only sound in the room the crunching in Ayla’s bowl. It was then that an idea came into Feya’s mind. She had an image of the one spot where she might be able to trap him. A place Archer wouldn’t try to escape from.