Page 20 of Taken by the Devilish Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #7)

“ Y e are awake.”

She heard the voice in her dream, something deep and inviting that made her face grow warm.

Next, she felt the press of a clean pillow against her cheek and the tangled sheets around her legs.

She arched her back to stretch in the comfortable bed, trying to place herself in time and space.

What day was it? And why did the bed smell like Archer, the hint of sweat and something woodsy flooding her nostrils?

She sat up quickly, remembering all at once where she was.

She blinked into a darkened room, her eyes adjusting to the dim light of twilight.

Nearby, on a chair set at the foot of the bed, Archer sat, watching her.

He was fully dressed, far more covered up than Feya would have wished, one ankle resting on his knee, a book in his hand.

As the sheets fell down her body, Feya saw that her bodice was still untied, her chest still exposed. She squeaked and quickly brought her arm across her chest, covering herself.

“Too late for that, lass,” he chuckled. “Besides, they’re far too beautiful to cover up.”

She blushed, feeling the heat rush all the way to her ears. Feya set to work fixing her bodice, pulling the strings tight until her chest was covered. She felt Archer’s eyes on her the whole time, his gaze at once exciting and unnerving.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. With a glance outside the window, she realized she had slept for a few hours. It looked like it was evening and, from the grumble of her stomach, likely dinner time.

“Daenae apologize,” Archer said evenly. “It was the best afternoon I’ve had in a long while.”

She smiled at him, though she was having trouble meeting his eyes. Flashes of what he had done to her, the sensations he had elicited, kept coming into her mind. She remembered how she had cried out, how she had lost herself completely.

She looked at the floor and kicked her legs to the edge of the bed before standing up quickly.

She was embarrassed to have fallen asleep, but suddenly more uncertain about the way she had handled herself in his bed.

For all of her experience with healing, Feya wasn’t knowledgeable about the ways of men and women. What if she had done something wrong?

He sensed her hesitation immediately, and Archer jumped to his feet. In two steps he was in front of her, her fingers lifting her chin so she would meet his eyes.

“Are ye alright?” he asked.

He said it with such tenderness that all of Feya’s fears disappeared. She nodded slowly, letting her eyes roam over his still damp hair, those gentle eyes, his dark beard.

“Aye,” she smiled.

“Not sore?” he asked. The question made Feya’s stomach turn over, but she held his gaze.

“Look at ye,” she teased. “Asking questions like a healer.”

“Well, I learned from the best,” he laughed.

He cocked his head to the side and gave her another smile before dropping his mouth down to hers.

Feya’s lips fell open to accept the kiss, something gentle and light.

It seemed to carry a secret message, but before Feya could interpret it, Archer pulled away.

He strode a few paces away from her, turning toward the door.

“They’ll be looking for me at dinner,” he said with a sigh, and with this sentence, the weight of the world returned to Archer’s shoulders. She watched his back stiffen, saw the twitch in his neck as he prepared himself for the world outside this room.

Feya stepped forward, wanting to say something to comfort him. But her mouth only hung open, unable to come up with any response that might soothe him. Archer read her silence differently, assuming Feya was wavering about joining him at dinner.

“I’ll make excuses for ye,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “And send food up to your room. It’s better if we daenae arrive together.”

“Right,” she said, though she didn’t understand why. The rules and regulations of the castle always seemed so foreign to her, dictating the way Archer moved and who he sat with for a meal.

With nothing left to say, Feya shuffled toward the door, picking up her shoes on the way.

She slipped them onto her feet as Archer reached for his jacket, draped over the back of his chair.

She waited for him to look at her, but when he didn’t, she hauled open the heavy door and rushed back to her room.

With every turn she prayed no one would see her, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she caught sight of her own chambers.

As soon as she pushed into her bedchamber, Feya collapsed on the bed.

She wanted her sister here, and she found herself wishing beyond hope that Morgana would somehow walk through that door.

She knew her older sister would notice something had happened.

She would sit on the edge of Feya’s bed to run a hand over her forehead, asking her sister what was wrong.

“Oh, Morgana,” Feya sighed, eyes cast to the ceiling. “What now?”

Archer strode down the hallway, still flooded with images of Feya spread out on his bed. His fingers still twitched with the feeling of her skin, and his body couldn’t help responding with a spark of desire as he imagined the events of the past hour.

Archer shook his head and pushed the thoughts aside, knowing his family would be waiting for him in the dining hall.

He had told Feya he would make excuses for her, but unfortunately, he had no one to do the same for him.

He needed to show his face and act normal, not only for his sake, but for Feya’s.

“There ye are,” Ayla said, speaking as soon as he crossed the threshold. She was already enjoying the first course of dinner, which could only mean Archer was later than he thought. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten to eat again.”

Archer grunted, having no clear explanation.

He simply pulled his chair from the table and flopped into it.

A bowl of soup was immediately set in front of him, and Archer attacked it, suddenly realizing how ravenous he was.

For a moment, there was only the clink of his spoon against the bowl, but then Archer caught Feya’s smirk out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” he barked. He was surprised by his short temper. Why was he suddenly angry, ready to jump on Feya’s judgment? Something deep down told him he must be responding to the empty seat at his right, the spot that Feya usually occupied.

“Nothing,” Ayla said, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. She turned back to her own food and continued eating. But it was no surprise when she spoke up again, clearly unable to stay quiet. “Is Feya joining us tonight?”

He kept his eyes locked on his soup, knowing his sister was the only person who might be able to read something in his expression. He stared at his plate as he continued to eat.

“She’s resting,” he said curtly. “I sent food to her room.”

“And how did the healing go today?” Feya asked. “Last time I saw her, she was headed to try out a new treatment…”

“Next course,” Archer barked, interrupting his sister. Her words were reminding him of the very treatment he and Feya had occupied themselves with. He was desperate to distract himself from the heat between his legs.

“Did it work?” Ayla asked, pressing him.

Archer scowled at her and pushed the bowl of soup away from him. He dropped back into his chair as the man rushed forward to take away his bowl.

“As well as anythin’,” he grumbled. “That lass hasnae yet realized I’m a lost cause.”

“Of course ye arenae,” Ayla said, and Archer regretted his self-deprecating humor immediately. Ayla was bound to defend him, to make him accept a sunnier version of himself she was desperate to hold on to.

“She’s persistent,” Archer said, trying to move the conversation back in another direction. “If anyone can find somethin’, it’s Feya.”

“Aye,” Ayla agreed. “At first, I wondered why ye brought her here. Ye have Holly to tend to ye, and I’ve been tryin’ me best. But I can see now that Feya’s different. There’s something special about her.”

He didn’t respond, though he agreed with Ayla’s judgment.

What Ayla didn’t know was that Archer had brought her here to save the woman’s life.

She didn’t realize Feya was in danger of being hunted down and kidnapped, that Archer had killed people to protect her.

All of this talk of healing was just his excuse, a way to make Feya think she was doing something.

And yet, what about the peace he had found in that bathtub today?

The way his body had responded to her voice singing to him?

At moments like that, healing didn’t seem so impossible.

Just as the next course was set in front of them, Elijah burst into the room. He carried an anxious energy with him that the siblings both felt. Ayla sat up straighter and seemed to steel herself for bad news.

“What is it?” she asked as Elijah sat himself in the chair Feya usually occupied. The man ignored her and looked to Archer, who began attacking his meat with his knife.

“The council missed you this afternoon.”

The man reached across the table and grabbed a piece of bread.

“I think ye’re all capable of handin’ the petty arguments of farmers without me.”

“The more ye are absent, the more Lennox speaks up. And the more rumors spread.”

“What rumors?” Ayla asked.

Elijah looked at her with a tinge of annoyance, regarding her for the first time.

Archer had always sensed a hint of tension between his man-at-arms and his sister, though it was always subtle enough that he couldn’t call Elijah out for it.

Archer raised his eyebrows at Elijah now, waiting for him to answer Ayla’s question.

“Let’s just say I’m pleased to see that woman isnae dining with ye tonight.”

“That woman?” Archer asked, instantly defensive. He gripped his knife hard and glared at Elijah, waiting for him to say something further.

“Feya,” Elijah said, correcting himself. “I ken she’s here to help ye, but it may serve ye well to distance yourself a bit. Ye ken how people talk.”

“About what?” There was a threat in his voice, but Archer couldn’t help it. Even if Elijah was only the messenger here, he needed to understand that Archer wouldn’t accept anyone speaking ill of Feya, even if they were only repeating something else they had heard.

“She’s a healer,” Elijah said. “Of course, people are going to have opinions. They think she has influence over ye. That all of these tonics and powders might be altering ye in some way, making ye make decisions?—”

“Oh, not this again,” Ayla said. She slammed her spoon on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t tell me there’s talk of witchcraft. We already dealt with this with Holly.”

“All right,” Archer said gently. He gave a small gesture with his fingers to try to calm Ayla down. Then he turned to Elijah.

“I think ye’d better speak clearly,” he said. He set his knife down, suddenly losing his appetite. He watched Elijah gesture to the man in the corner, asking for a plate. Archer was suddenly angry, frustrated that his man-at-arms felt comfortable enough to invite himself to dinner.

Malcolm used to eat with ye all the time, he reminded himself.

“I’m only trying to warn ye,” he said. “People see her going into your office or even your bed chamber. Ye ken Lennox has eyes all over this castle.”

“She’s a healer,” he burst out with a slam of his fist on the table. The plates and silverware bounced with a clank. “How can she heal if she isnae permitted to see me?”

“I’m only telling ye what I heard,” Elijah said. “And what Lennox is saying in these council meetings when ye’re not around. He’s turnin’ people against ye. And he’s using your healer to do so.”