Page 29 of Taken by the Devilish Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #7)

H e gritted his teeth and held his breath, shocked by how good this felt.

He had to hold himself back, keep himself from exploding at this first touch of Feya’s mouth wrapped around him.

Her tongue cradled him as she pressed down, taking him only a few inches, and then she pulled back.

Archer kept his hand in her hair, gently guiding her back down, though he wouldn’t force her to go further than she wanted to.

This time, she took him a bit deeper, and he felt her gaining confidence, quickly learning how this was meant to go. He didn’t think he could grow any harder, but his body responded to her touch, and Archer reached down to hold himself, guiding his erection to Feya’s lips.

“Good girl,” he growled as she pushed down again. She picked up her pace, moving up and down, and her enthusiasm was intoxicating. He knew he wouldn’t last. He could already feel pressure building, that desperation to reach his finish and find release.

As she pushed her lips down, he rocked his hips ever so slightly, increasing the sensation.

Her hair fell around her face, brushing against his stomach and his legs, but he made sure he could see her.

He was alert for any signs of hesitation, for anything that told him Feya wanted to stop.

But every cue Feya sent showed him she was enjoying this, that she was eager for it.

Her fingers brushed against his hand, still holding his length, and suddenly her hand was replacing his.

Archer leaned back as her hand and her mouth worked together, picking up pace, and he pressed his head back, surrendering to Feya’s ministrations.

It only took a few seconds, and he was on the edge, pushing toward an ending he couldn’t hold back.

“Feya,” he cried out, and he pulled her off him, guiding her away in just enough time for him to turn to his side, to erupt into his pleasure.

He held himself as he crashed over the edge, squeezing his eyes tight as he found a relief that had eluded him for weeks.

His muscles tensed and relaxed as he rode out the feeling, forgetting everything except the glorious feeling of release.

He came back to reality slowly, hearing the birds in the trees and the gentle breeze on his sweaty skin. When he opened his eyes, Feya was there, her face close to his. She smirked at him, looking both satisfied and pleased with herself.

“Did I do alright?” she asked.

Archer laughed and pulled her into him, cradling her in his arms.

“Aye,” he whispered into her ear. “Ye are a quick learner.”

“I could try again,” she said, and she started to turn, but Archer held her tight, a deep chuckle in his chest.

“Ye may be ready, dear one, but I need some time to recover. I cannae move as fast as ye.”

“Oh,” she said.

“A fault in man’s design,” he mused, pressing his nose into her hair. Feya sighed and pushed her body into him, rocking her hips ever so slightly. He couldn’t help but smile at her voracious appetite. “Luckily, a plight women do not need to suffer through.”

He ran a hand down her body and pulled at her thighs. Feya moaned in agreement and delight as she opened her legs. She turned her body eagerly to his skilled fingers, letting Archer feel exactly how ready she was for a second round.

Their clothes were still damp when they dressed, but afternoon was turning to dusk, and they needed to head back.

He smiled when Feya ducked behind the tree to put her dress on, amused by her modesty after their earlier activities.

When she came out of the woods, she was laced up and proper, her hair tied back in a braid.

Archer was dressed as well, tying up his boots as he remembered the sensations of the past few hours.

And yet, it was clear something had changed.

He was certain they were both thinking about returning to the castle and about their impending departure.

Only two more days and Feya would return to her family.

“I have one more thing to show ye,” she said as they finished packing up the basket. Archer pulled the blanket from the ground and shook it out, sending dirt and small sticks into the air.

“There’s more?”

Feya turned and led him away from this peaceful spot, and all Archer wanted was to pull her back, to kiss her one more time. But he stopped himself. She was going home, and there was no more denying it.

He followed her with the basket, surprised when she took a turn in a new direction. They were walking parallel to the castle, no longer making a clear path toward home. The trees were denser here, blocking the sunlight, and they had to push branches aside to make their way through the forest.

“Are ye lost, lass?” he teased, but as soon as he said it, they stepped into a clearing. It was a wide-open space, with sunlight streaming down onto lush grass and deep purple wildflowers. The beauty stopped him for a moment, and Feya held out her hand to him, guiding him forward.

He let himself be led to a long stretch of freshly turned earth, where someone had cleared out a space for planting. There, buried in the ground, were dozens of saplings, looking small and vulnerable in this expansive space.

“Did ye plant these?” he asked. Archer bent down to get a closer look, observing the small green leaves sprouting from sturdy stalks.

“Holly helped me,” she admitted. “Did ye ken she plants a tree every time a bairn is born in the village?”

He looked down the long row of saplings and back at Feya.

“It must have been a busy summer for the women of the village,” he remarked, but Feya laughed at this, shaking her head.

“Nay, these arenae for the bairns,” she explained. “These are for your soldiers. For all the friends ye lost in the war. The brothers ye havenae forgotten.”

His chest tightened, and he felt something painful in his throat.

Feya had planted these trees for him? He looked at the small plants with new interest, touched by the gesture.

The light played tricks along the edge of the field, where mature trees stretched toward the sky.

He could almost see the men there. He could imagine them looking out, approving of this memorial spot.

“I hope it isnae too painful,” Feya said.

She looked at the ground, letting words tumble out of her.

“A woman in the village lost her bairn, and Holly planted a tree for the babe. It was such a simple gesture, but now that mother will have a place to grieve, a living thing to stand in for her loss. I thought it might help ye. I thought?—”

“Feya,” he said, resting a hand on her arm. They were both kneeling in the dirt, inspecting the little trees that swayed gently in the breeze. “It’s perfect.”

She smiled, clearly relieved.

“I never thought of commemorating them.” Archer stood up and walked along the line of trees, taking in each one of them as he passed.

“They’re apple trees,” she said, rushing to catch up with them. “It will take them some years to bear fruit, of course, but it will be an orchard before ye ken it.”

He imagined walking out here in five years, bringing baskets and crates to pull in a fall harvest. He could share the fruit with the villagers, maybe even show them this spot here in the woods on the outskirts of the castle. It could be a commemorative spot for all of them, a place to remember.

Archer swallowed hard as emotion swelled in his chest.

“Thank ye,” he said.

“Nineteen trees,” she told him. “One for every man ye lost that day. The battle when your faither was killed.”

He smiled at her and took her hand, pulling her closer to him. Archer kissed her sweetly, wishing she could understand all his emotions in that one kiss. As it was, he couldn’t put words to what he was feeling, to how special this gesture was.

“Thank ye,” he said again. “Ye have truly helped me.”

He didn’t quite know the truth of these words until he said them out loud.

Feya really had helped him with these haunting memories.

She had shown him he could pull himself out of those dark thoughts.

And, most importantly, she had reminded him that there were still things in his life that were worth living for.

“And now I must make good on me side of the bargain,” he said, resting a hand on her cheek. “Ye helped me with me nightmares. Now I must bring ye home to your family safely.”

“I was happy to help ye—” Feya said, but Archer shook his head, silencing any protests.

“Nay,” he laughed. “Daenae let me off the hook. It was our deal, remember? Ye helped me, and now I will help ye. An even exchange, aye? Then we’ll be settled.”

He was trying to make light of the situation, to brush aside all the pain he felt about Feya’s impending departure. But she didn’t smile. Instead, she looked upset, as if he had said something wrong.

“We should get back.”

She turned away, and it was like a door slamming closed between them.

Tears pricked at Feya’s eyes, but she refused to let Archer see them. She kept her head down and walked fast, already working through the excuse she would make when they arrived back at the castle. She couldn’t handle sitting down to dinner with the man, couldn’t imagine making polite conversation.

An even exchange. Then we’ll be settled.

Was that all this was for him? Just an agreement they had made months ago, an exchange of goods and services?

She couldn’t pinpoint why this hurt her so much, but she felt used somehow.

As if all the quiet moments they had shared with each other were simply part of this verbal arrangement. She was simply something to be settled.

Could he forget her so quickly? Would it be easy for him to push aside his memories of their shared kisses and these private moments as soon as he left her at Morgana’s door?

And why does that matter? Ye are leaving.

Feya bunched her fists at her sides, ready to fight with all of her conflicting emotions. She knew she should be happy to go home. It had been months since she had seen her siblings. So why did she feel a knot in her stomach every time she imagined it?

“Are ye alright?”

She was startled by his voice and even more startled to realize they had arrived back at the castle. She looked up at him and nodded.

“Aye. I was thinking of me family.”

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Feya cut him off before she lost her courage.

“I think I’ll skip dinner tonight,” she said. “I’m still full from the picnic.”

“Aye,” he said, though she heard the hesitation in his voice. They could both feel the change between them, a coldness that was all the more noticeable after the joy of the afternoon. But she couldn’t keep herself from being short with him, from sending some of the anger she felt in his direction.

“I think I’ll lie down.”

She turned and pushed through the door, leaving Archer to return the picnic basket. Feya made her way up the curved stairs, pushing her legs fast up flight after flight. Something about the burning of her muscles felt good, a physical pain to pair with her emotional one.

When she reached the floor of her bedchamber, she turned down the hallway and walked fast to her room, praying she would see no one. As soon as she was safely inside, she slammed the door and pulled the lock across, relieved to be alone.

“Pull it together,” she whispered to herself. She dropped onto her bed, feeling the dampness of her dress from their time in the pond. “He was only having fun,” she lectured herself. “He was only following what his body wanted, enjoying himself while he could.”

But hadn’t Feya been doing the same? She didn’t feel shame about what she and Archer had done, only gratitude that he had shown her how good her body could feel. Still, it hurt to think it didn’t mean much to him. That he simply wanted her body, nothing more.

She let her mind wander to Morgana, imagining her sister was sitting beside her. What would Morgana say when she told her about this, which she most certainly would? How would she react when Feya told her her heart was breaking, and she didn’t know why?

Ye love him.

She heard Morgana’s voice clearly, so matter-of-fact. She could even imagine the way her sister would look at her with that knowing smile, her eyebrows lifted as she told Feya the truth she could see so clearly. A truth Feya couldn’t see for herself.

“I love him,” she whispered to the air. And speaking it further solidified the truth of the words. All this anxiety she felt about going home, all these conflicted emotions—they had a singular reason. She was in love with Archer.

But what did it matter? Just because she loved him didn’t mean he felt the same way.

He was simply carrying out his side of the bargain, after all.

According to him, he would drop her off with her family and they would be square.

An eye for an eye. Feya’s healing for Archer’s protection.

In a few days, their deal would be over.

So ye must forget him. Just enjoy what it was. Move on.

It was easy to tell herself, but it didn’t erase the hollow feeling in her chest. It didn’t stop the pain that made tears prick at her eyes.

Feya squeezed her eyes closed and pushed the tears away.

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, forcing away all the thoughts of self-pity that were looming by her bed, ready to jump in with her.

She jumped up and remembered her family, the people who did love her.

She needed to focus on them and the joy she would feel to be reunited with them.

And then, there was her clan. They needed a strong healer, a woman who could help them through illness and crisis.

After her months here with Holly, Feya had even more knowledge to bring back to them.

Yes, she resolved. She would go back with her head held high. She wouldn’t let these past few months be a waste. Instead, she would bring back what she learned to the people who cared for her. With renewed energy, Feya sat down at her writing desk and pulled a fresh piece of paper from the drawer.

She wrote the name ‘Holly’ in careful script, and then she paused, wondering how she could condense everything the woman had taught her into a few sheets of paper. But then, after a moment to compose her thoughts, she began to write.