Page 3 of Taken by the Devilish Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #7)

A scream of anguish echoed in his ears, followed closely by another. A cacophony of hooves and the clatter of metal sounded far too loud, blocking out the one voice he was listening for, the one person he needed to find.

“Archer!”

All at once, he was on the ground, the heavy form of a man in his arms. Archer looked down at a face so familiar to him, a face he had grown up alongside. His man-at-arms tried to smile, but there was blood in his teeth.

“Malcolm,” Archer gasped as he watched his best friend wince in pain. Archer’s hand was wet, and he lifted it to his face only to see it red with blood.

“Don’t leave me,” Malcolm cried, but even before the final word, the man disappeared from Archer’s arms, replaced by another. He stared down at a face grimacing in pain.

“Faither.”

“Ye must finish this, son.”

“Please,” Archer cried, and his chest squeezed with pain.

Just then, he heard the keening of a woman in the distance, a siren calling out to usher the dead to their new homes. But no, it wasn’t a song of death. This was a song of comfort, a soothing voice pulling Archer to a different place. A happier place.

A breeze through his hair comforted him.

The air seemed to push the sounds of the war away.

Suddenly, the wind felt like fingers on his scalp, running in gentle circles, and the war and the bodies of his friends began to recede.

Archer felt like he was lifted into the air, the wind pulling him away from this place…

He noticed the sheets around his legs, twisted and oppressive.

Then there was the chill of his body, ice cold despite the sheen of sweat that covered him.

He was still caught in that nightmare, struggling to come up from the surface.

He could still hear that eerie singing, that voice beckoning him somewhere.

And it still felt like fingers moved through his hair, like the wind of his dream.

With another breath, Archer dropped into reality. He felt a body close to him and felt someone touching his scalp. He moved without thinking, flipping his body so he straddled the figure, trapping the offender between his strong thighs, his hands pressing their wrists to the bed.

“Archer!”

It was nearly dawn, and from the light through the window, he could see Feya’s face, awash with shock. Her eyes searched his, desperate for him to recognize her, and he could sense her fear. Archer blinked at her, finally back to reality, and only then did he see Feya relax.

“Get off of me,” she cried, but Archer was too stunned to move.

“What were ye doin’?”

She looked slightly embarrassed, as if she didn’t expect to be caught.

“Ye were having a nightmare,” she said carefully. “It isnae right to shock someone out of a dream state. Ye must bring them out gently.”

“Were ye singing to me?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, enjoying the opportunity to challenge her. She gave a brief shrug.

“It helps with me younger siblings,” she explained.

“And were ye…touching me hair?”

She diverted her gaze, a beautiful pink flushing her cheeks.

Then she looked back at him and nodded. This simple gesture set Archer’s whole body on fire, leaving him stunned for the first time in his life.

He felt his breath hitch in his throat and he couldn’t keep his eyes from dropping down to her lips.

“Ye’re awake now, so get off me,” Feya said, and she began pulling at her wrists, pushing her thighs against his as she struggled to break free.

It was too much for Archer, who wasn’t sure he could keep himself from pinning this struggling woman to the bed and showing her exactly what effect she was having on him.

He leaped up and out of the bed, pressing his fingernails into his palms to compose himself.

“It’s morning,” Feya announced, as if he couldn’t see the sun streaming through the window. “Time to go.”

He was surprised by the panic that coursed through his chest. He was certain Feya would die if he let her go back to the castle.

Anyone could see she wouldn’t survive if he let her out of his sight.

But it wasn’t the only reason he was compelled to keep this feisty woman at his side.

She had pulled him out of his nightmare, pulled him back from the horror that so frequently visited him.

No one had ever done that for him. With all the healers he had tried, this lass was the only one who had done something.

“What about our deal?”

She was already up and out of the bed, readying herself to leave. Now she froze and turned back to him.

“What deal?” she asked.

“Me reward. For saving ye. Ye said ye would give me anythin’.”

“I will,” she said earnestly. “I wasnae lyin’. Once I make sure me family is safe, I’ll come back. Ye can name your price.”

“I want ye to be me healer,” Asher said, lifting his chin to regard her. “But I willnae wait. Ye will come to Dougal Castle today.”

“Surely ye have a healer,” she said, frozen in place. It was like being around a wild animal with this man. She couldn’t predict what he would do or say from one moment to the next. Feya felt the need to move slowly, to choose her words carefully.

“Aye, but she’s getting old. She cannae help me with what I need.”

Archer was perched on the edge of the bed, still shirtless after Feya had forbidden him from putting the vile fabric back on. He looked gentler this morning, more subdued. Perhaps it was the nightmare she had pulled him out of, a hint of darkness she was only beginning to understand.

“What ye need,” she repeated slowly. “Do ye need healing, me Laird?”

It was the first time she had called him that, and she saw Archer’s look of surprise. The title had come out of her unbidden. Of course, he wasn’t her Laird. Though she had no idea who would step into the opening left by Laird McKenzie’s death.

“There are times…” his gaze dropped to the floor, and Feya worried he would not continue.

“Is it the nightmares?” she asked. Her voice dropped into the gentle tone she used by the sickbed. Something soothing yet confident to put her patients at ease.

“Aye,” Archer nodded. “Though they daenae always come at night.”

Feya stepped closer and took a seat next to him, not touching him, but close enough so she hoped he would feel more comfortable. She could still imagine his thrashing from that dream, the terror she heard in his voice when he called out to someone.

“Ye see things…things ye should not see?” she asked.

Archer scowled and shook his head.

“I am nae crazy, lass. I daenae see ghosts floating through the sky or talk to imaginary friends like some imbecile.”

“Nay,” Feya said, quickly realizing she had said the wrong thing. She needed to calm him down again, make him see that she understood. “Ye have flashes. Moments of memory when ye least expect them. Is that right?”

He looked at her, surprised, and Feya knew she had guessed correctly. She nodded.

“I’ve seen men with this before. After difficult times in battle. We call it soldier’s heart.”

“’It’s nothing soldierly about it,” Archer growled, pushing to his feet. “’It’s a weakness I must rid meself of. Something ye must rid me of.”

She had only met this man yesterday, but she felt a strong desire to help him.

Something in her chest ached to hear he was suffering, and she knew from the nightmare she had witnessed that this was no minor case.

Archer did need someone to help him. Someone who could cure him of these haunted memories before they ate up every last bit of his happiness.

But there were her siblings to think about. Morgana and Tormod. Ronnie and the twins. She had put them all in danger when she walked into Laird McKenzie’s chamber. She couldn’t abandon them now.

“I will help ye,” Feya said, and her heart broke to see the hope in his eyes that she would soon dash. “But I must see me family first. I must ensure my sisters and brothers are safe. Then I will come back to ye. Like I promised.”

“Stop, Feya.” Archer stepped back to the bed, moving so quickly she had no time to move. He grabbed her hands in his own and pulled her up from the bed, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Stop and think about this. Who saw the murderer?”

“I did,” she answered meekly.

“So, who is in danger?”

She knew what he wanted her to say, but Feya couldn’t bring herself to.

“I cannae just leave them—” she began to protest, but Archer squeezed her hands again, asking her to think.

“Your siblings daenae ken who killed McKenzie. And the man who did willnae reveal himself to them—It’s folly to do so. But if ye go back there, what then? The man will be forced to deal with ye, and it will put your siblings at risk in the process.”

She looked up at him, her small hands dwarfed by his larger ones.

She could feel the warmth of his skin in her hands, the hard calluses on his palms. It was harder to breathe when he was this close to her, harder to think straight.

Was Archer seeing the situation more clearly, better able to weigh the pros and cons of going back there?

“Perhaps ye are right,” she said, though it pained her to admit such a thing. How could she stay away from her siblings? How would she live without knowing if they were safe? Without knowing if her foolish actions had brought harm to every one of them?

Suddenly Archer’s hand was below her chin, tilting her face to his. She gasped at the movement, suddenly convinced the man was going to kiss her. She watched his mouth, set in a hard line, so good at masking whatever he was feeling.

“Hear this,” he said. Feya stared into his gray eyes, unable to pull herself away.

“If ye come with me…If ye can heal me of this soldier’s heart , or whatever it is that’s tormenting me…

Heal me and I will take ye back to McKenzie meself.

I’ll bring ye back to your family. I’ve already saved your life once, lass. Let me do it again.”

For a brief moment, Archer’s hand moved up the side of Feya’s face. She held her breath as she felt the roughness of his palm slide up her neck and then cup her cheek. She leaned into it. She couldn’t help herself. But just as quickly, his hand was gone.

Archer stepped back, putting distance between them, but Feya’s breath still came fast, and her neck and chest felt hot.

What were these emotions she was feeling?

So confused and excited all at once. The man in front of her was a monster, a man who would kill without a second thought.

Could she really agree to go with him? But what if he was right.

..what if Feya’s return to her home would only put her siblings in danger?

“Alright,” she said, cutting through the silence. “I’ll go with ye.”