Page 30 of Taken by the Devilish Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #7)

“ A re ye sure ye have to go?”

Ayla sniffed as she held hard to Feya’s hands. Feya could feel Ayla’s sadness in that grip, her reticence to let her go, and she swallowed hard, reminding herself for the hundredth time that she wouldn’t let herself cry. Of course, this was a much harder task with Ayla crying in front of her.

“Promise you’ll visit me,” Feya asked, feeling desperate. She couldn’t believe this would be the last time she would see Ayla. She wouldn’t believe it.

“I will,” Ayla nodded. “And you’ll come here too. You’re a part of this place now.”

Instead of answering, Feya pulled Ayla into a hug, squeezing her tight.

She had lain awake at night wondering if she would ever come back to Castle Dougal.

Would Archer want her to? Would she even be welcome?

Now that their deal was over, he might put all of this behind him.

He might simply close the door on whatever there was between them.

The horses were saddled next to them, Feya’s few belongings packed into the saddlebags. The large mares shifted their weight and sighed as they waited for Feya and Archer to depart. Now they lifted their heads as a figure rushed out of the door.

“Feya.” Holly came quickly, a small pot between her hands. “I worried I would miss ye.”

“I could never leave without seeing ye,” Feya assured her.

She recognized the sapling in the small clay pot as one of Holly’s apple trees.

They were the same saplings Holly and Feya had planted in the woods for Archer.

Feya’s chest ached as she saw it, and she felt a pull between pain and gratitude.

She wasn’t sure she wanted this reminder of Archer, wasn’t sure she could bear to plant this at McKenzie Castle where she would look at it daily. Where she would think about him…

“Ye should have a part of the orchard,” Holly said as she pressed the plant in her hands. “And when it grows larger, ye can plant more of them. A piece of this place will always be with ye.”

Tears flooded Feya’s eyes, and she blinked hard, fighting back the tears. These women were breaking down her resolve, making it harder and harder to remain dry-eyed.

“Thank ye for everything ye taught me,” she whispered. “I willnae forget it.”

“I ken ye willnae,” Holly smiled. “Ye were me best student.”

“Hey, I heard that,” Ayla cried, though there was laughter in her voice.

The three women smiled at each other, simultaneously celebrating and mourning the little team they had formed.

Feya was used to healing being a solitary business.

She knew how lucky she had been to care for these villagers with a support system of her own.

As the women hugged each other, a dark shadow emerged from the doorway, and Archer scowled at them.

“Time to go.”

He barely looked at them, only crossed to the groom who held his horse and began adjusting the saddle, checking that the girth was tight and the bridle secure.

Holly made a face at Archer’s poor mood, but Feya couldn’t bring herself to smile.

The man had been cold and distant since their time in the woods, ever since he told her the agreement between them was nearly over.

“Don’t let him ruin your trip,” Ayla whispered. “Remember how happy your family will be to see ye.”

Feya nodded at Ayla as Archer looked back at them, clearly impatient. Perhaps she should have been pleased to see him so grumpy about this journey, but she didn’t find joy in seeing him upset. It only made her heart ache more, realizing the kind, gentle version of this man had disappeared.

He held out a hand to help Feya mount, but she shook her head, pulling herself up to the horse’s back on her own.

Archer mounted with ease and clicked his horse to attention, setting his sights on the castle gate.

With a final look over her shoulder to Ayla and Holly, Feya pressed her heels into her horse’s side and followed him.

Daenae cry. Daenae cry.

“My Laird!” A voice surprised her, and she looked up to see Elijah at the castle gate, waiting for them. She swallowed hard and pushed down her tears, suddenly determined not to let this man see her upset.

“We’re going,” Archer said, and she heard the beginnings of a fight in his voice.

“It’s not that,” Elijah said. “It’s Lennox. Ye have barely left, and he’s already telling the council he’ll be making decisions in your place. Did ye tell him to do this?”

Feya heard Archer’s growl, low and deep in his throat, and suddenly he turned his horse’s head. He spun around and set his sights back on the castle.

“Stay with her,” he barked, not even looking in Feya’s direction, and then he rushed back up the path they had just come down. It left Feya alone with Elijah, a man she had no interest in spending time with.

“He’ll be back soon,” Elijah said as he reached for her horse’s reins, eager to hold on to her. Feya turned her horse away so he couldn’t grab at her, her sadness suddenly replaced with annoyance.

“I can handle me own horse,” she said. One good thing about leaving: she didn’t have to be polite to people she didn’t like.

After all, she would likely never see this man again.

Elijah’s face flashed with anger, but he quickly controlled it, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded her cooly.

“Ye changed him,” Elijah said. She had an impulse to ignore him, but she couldn’t bring herself to be that rude. She simply glanced in his direction, uncertain what Elijah meant by the comment.

“Archer,” he elaborated. “He was different with ye here.”

She didn’t respond, unable to discern whether Elijah thought her presence was a positive in Archer’s life or something more detrimental. But Elijah didn’t make her wait long for clarification.

“It’s good ye are leaving,” he said. Did she sense some amusement in his voice, a pleasure in telling her this? “Ye only weakened him. Caused rumors to swirl around him with this healing of yours. Ye distracted him from his true work. Softened him.”

He said this with disgust and even spat onto the ground after he spoke.

Feya knew she should ignore the words, that they were simply an angry man lashing out.

But she couldn’t shake the rational part of them—she had seen Archer change in these few weeks.

There were moments he had been softer. The question was: Was this a good thing for a Laird fighting to keep power over his clan?

“It will hurt him,” Elijah said. He stared at her, a flame of hatred in his eyes. “He will suffer because of it.”

Was that a threat? Or a prediction Elijah was preparing for?

“Archer can handle himself,” she said cooly. “Those loyal to him willnae be distracted by village rumors. They will see the leader he is.”

“How true,” Elijah said, looking amused by her words. “We can see the leader he is. With ye here, he’s shown us his true colors. And now we can give him the respect he truly deserves.”

She felt a chill at the man’s words, a fear of something ominous. And yet, hadn’t he only agreed with her? She tried to read the man’s expression, but it was unreadable, a slight smile on his lips. And then they heard the pounding of Archer’s horse as it ran back to them.

“Take care, Feya,” he said to her, stepping away from the path. “Archer may think he can protect ye, but the world has teeth. Best to be far away when it bites.”

They rode up to the same inn they had stayed at all those weeks ago, the first night they met.

The journey had been silent and tense, with neither of them offering any conversation.

He knew Feya was eager to get back home, likely thinking of nothing except setting her eyes on Castle McKenzie, finally ridding herself of Archer and his haunted dreams.

“A room for me and me wife,” he told the innkeeper. He felt Feya’s quick glance, but he didn’t look at her. There was no way he was letting Feya out of his sight when he was so close to returning her safely.

“Archer,” she whispered under her breath, but he kept his eyes on the man in front of them. He wouldn’t arouse suspicion here in this inn. If Feya wanted to fight with him, she could do so behind closed doors.

“Very good, my Laird. Ye are in luck, we have the best room available.”

“A standard room is fine,” he said. He remembered the man charging him an arm and a leg for the simple clothes he had to buy from him the last time they were here.

No doubt the man remembered it as well. Archer placed his coins on the counter and slid them to the man, determined not to let the man take advantage of him this time.

The innkeeper didn’t argue, simply slid the coins across the counter and into his pocket.

Then he walked them up the stairs and unlocked a room, simple but clean.

The man passed over the key, and Archer nodded to Feya, telling her to get inside.

Thankfully, he didn’t protest, though he could see defiance building in her eyes.

He followed her in and closed the door, relieved that another step of his journey was done.

Just get her home safely. Fulfill your side of the bargain.

“What was that?” Feya asked, turning on him the second he closed the door. Archer shook his head and walked past her, dropping his saddlebags onto the bed.

“Did ye think I would leave ye alone?” he asked. He began unpacking the change of clothes his man had packed for the ceilidh. “Not when I’m this close to having ye home safe, lass.”

Archer’s mind raced ahead, thinking of the task in front of him.

He was attending a wedding party uninvited, which would require some careful movement.

Sneaking into the castle on such a busy night shouldn’t be hard, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone recognized him.

His tall stature and soldier’s build would make it hard to hide for long.

“We’re on McKenzie lands,” Feya argued. “And me sister is the Lady of the Castle. What danger can I still be in?”

“And what do ye ken of Cohen?” Archer asked.

“I dinnae ken if he’s still in the castle, still looking for ye.

I cannae have someone see ye who might report back to him.

” Archer pulled his shirt over his head, feeling frustration build in his chest. Why was Feya making this harder?

And yet, he knew it wasn’t really Feya he was frustrated with.

He was mad at himself for the rash decision he made to attend this celebration.

And then, somewhere deeper, the ticking clock that meant Feya would soon be home.

“Ye cannae protect me forever,” she argued. “What will ye do tonight when people see me? As soon as we arrive, they will ken I’m alive.”

He looked at her in surprise, a clean shirt halfway over his head.

“Ye arenae coming to the ceilidh.”

He pulled the shirt down and dropped his breeches, busying himself with dressing in his kilt and the traditional outfit of his clan. He could feel Feya’s shock. He felt the heat of her anger as if it were the sun shining down onto his skin.

“What do ye mean?” she asked. “It is me sister’s wedding.”

“It isnae safe,” he said simply. Archer had been avoiding this conversation all day, knowing Feya wouldn’t be pleased. He should have told her days ago, as soon as he made the decision to travel here. But something had stopped him. Perhaps his knowledge that it would only lead to a fight.

“And what will ye do, lock me in this room?”

“If I have to,” he shrugged. He threw his plaid over his shoulder and set about pinning it, but suddenly Feya was pushing her way in front of him. She set her hands on her hips and stared up at him, forcing him to look at her.

“Was this your plan all along? Ye planned to leave me in this room while ye celebrate at me own family’s wedding? How heartless can ye be?”

Her voice broke on the last question, and Archer’s chest flooded with pain. He saw the pain in her eyes, the tears forming in her frustration and heartbreak.

How would ye feel if ye couldnae attend Ayla’s wedding?

The thought softened him, and he reached for Feya’s hand. His other hand went to her cheek, cupping her face in his palm. It was time to tell her the truth.

“I amnae trying to hurt ye,” he said gently.

“Then let me come,” she cried out, but Archer shook his head, silencing her.

“Feya, I wasnae invited. They daenae ken I’m coming.”

She slowly took in the information, understanding all at once what he was admitting to her. The sadness in her face transformed into shock, and then quickly to worry.

“What do ye mean?” she asked. Archer dropped his hand from her face, letting out a sigh. “Ye’re showing up uninvited? What if they throw ye out…or worse?”

“It willnae come to that,” he assured her. Feya began to protest, but Archer sat her down on the bed, knowing he had little time to make her understand. “Just listen to me.”

Her mouth was open to say something, but she quickly closed it. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for his explanation, and Archer took a seat next to her.

“McKenzie didnae invite me. It could be a mistake, but if it isnae, it’s a sign he doesn’t trust me. Or worse, he thinks Clan Dougal is weak. I have to show me face there. I must show McKenzie that Clan Dougal can’t be shunned like that.”

“But what if it makes things worse? What if he is angry about it? Ye could be making an enemy of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But how else will I ken if it’s safe to bring ye back there? How else will I ken if Cohen is still there, still looking for ye?”

She was quiet as she regarded him, a look of surprise and something akin to gratitude on her face.

“You’re doing this for me?”

“I promised to get ye home safe,” he said. “Let me go there tonight and find Cohen. Let me understand what’s happening inside that castle. And then I promise I’ll bring ye home.”

The light from the window cast a gentle glow on Feya’s face.

Her eyes were still wet from the angry tears she nearly shed, her cheeks flushed as she stared up at him.

He couldn’t stop himself from dropping his head and pressing his mouth against hers.

She responded immediately, almost desperately.

Her fingers found his knee and the strong muscles of his thigh beneath his kilt.

Archer groaned and gripped her wrist. He pulled her hand away before his body could leap to attention at Feya’s touch.

“I don’t have much time,” he whispered, pulling his mouth away from her.

“Ye started it,” she accused, but she smiled at him in jest. Archer stood up and gathered his things, feeling the arousal in his gut switch quickly to anticipation, a mix of excitement and nerves that he always felt when he was heading into battle.

“Be careful,” Feya begged.

“Stay inside,” Archer countered.

They kissed a final time, each giving a silent promise to the other.