Page 32 of Taken by the Devilish Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #7)

“ M organa?” Feya hardly dared believe it. There, standing in front of Castle McKenzie, was the familiar form of her sister. She was wrapped in Ryder McKenzie’s arms, seemingly lost in his gaze, but Feya couldn’t hold back any longer. She had waited too long to see her family.

“Feya!” Morgana gasped as she peered around the shoulder of her husband.

A moment later, they were racing toward each other. Feya let the adrenaline carry her forward as she wrapped her sister in her arms. Relief flooded her body as she held Morgana, finally satisfied she was safe.

They both spoke quickly, the words tumbling out of each other.

Somewhere in the background, Feya watched Ryder McKenzie slip away, leaving the siblings some privacy.

Archer stood behind her at a distance, silently keeping watch as the women held hands and updated each other on their lives.

They alternated between stories, letting fragments pour out of them until they had some semblance of understanding about the past few weeks.

“I tried, Morgana,” Feya cried out, unable to hold back her guilt any longer. “I tried to get back to ye. I tried to get here, I swear it.”

“Easy,” Morgana coaxed. She put a hand on her sister’s cheek, comforting her in the same way she used to when they were children. “Ye had to protect yourself. I dinnae blame ye for anythin’ that happened. Come now, let’s go inside and we can talk further.”

Morgana linked her arm in Feya’s and led her into the castle.

Feya knew there was more to say. There was the story of Cohen Hughes and his murder, the time she had spent at Castle Dougal.

And something else…or should she say, someone?

Feya didn’t miss Morgana’s interested gaze as they walked past the large, dark figure of Archer Brown standing in the doorway.

But there was no time to explain Archer’s presence or the color that came to Feya’s cheeks when she looked at him.

As soon as Morgana and Feya were inside, their siblings descended, wrapping them in hugs and pulling them into the sitting room.

Feya was overwhelmed with the joy and the noise of her family, something she had nearly forgotten about.

“We have so much to tell ye,” Poppy said, grabbing Feya by the hand and pulling her into the room.

She allowed herself to be guided by the twins, feeling a pressure in her chest as she realized they had grown.

She glanced at Tormond and Ronnie, shocked to see her younger brothers looked more like men than boys.

They stood nearby, nodding at her, surpressing their boyish urge to wrap their sisters in their arms.

“Alright, I’m coming,” Feya laughed, feeling her arm nearly pulled from her socket. She pushed away her sadness at the changes she saw in her siblings. She was here now, and that’s all that mattered.

Here because of him.

Feya looked over her shoulder, remembering Archer. But as she glanced to the doorway, she only caught a shadow of him. He had done exactly as he promised: returned her safely to her family. And now that the task was done, he silently disappeared.

It’s finished. Ye upheld your side of the bargain. Now it’s time to go home.

He didn’t sleep all night, simply tossed and turned in a state somewhere between sleep and waking.

Haunting thoughts of war came to him, but then more troubling dreams. He imagined Feya being taken, some cloaked figure snatching her directly from her bed.

He knew these thoughts were brought on by Morgana’s capture, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

Cohen Hughes was no longer a threat. Ryder McKenzie had taken care of that. But what about Cohen’s men? Were there others who were loyal to him, people that Ryder didn’t know about?

That’s not your problem anymore. Ye cannae protect her forever.

Oh, but he wanted to. The very thought of leaving Feya alone in someone else’s care was eating him up inside. His chest grew tight when he thought about it, and he wondered how he would ever think of anything except her well-being.

But Archer had a clan to run. And he couldn’t lead them from Ryder McKenzie’s castle. No matter how much he wanted Feya by his side, it was time to come to terms with the fact that she was staying here.

He kicked the blankets off of him and rolled out of bed, unable to take it any longer.

The family had planned a final breakfast, a way to thank Archer for his kindness and protection of Feya.

They were going to eat together before they sent Archer on his way.

But when he imagined sitting there, smiling over his porridge as he was forced to look into Feya’s green eyes, it felt akin to torture.

He would leave now. Sneak out before anyone saw him. It was for the best.

Archer pulled on his clothes and gathered his things, tossing water on his face and running his hands through his hair. Then he slipped out of the door to his bedchamber and turned down the hallway, eager to leave the cold walls of this castle and feel the early-morning chill on his face.

It was still quite early, the sky barely lightening as the sun rose over the horizon.

He surprised a few guards who were snoozing at their posts, making them jump to attention as he passed.

But Archer didn’t pay them any mind. He simply set his sights on the stables, where his mare would be waiting for him.

The groomsmen would still be asleep in their beds, but Archer didn’t mind.

He preferred to saddle his horse on his own anyway.

“I had a feeling.”

He startled at the voice, looking up from the hard-packed dirt to see Feya leaning against the wall of the stables, arms across her chest. In the morning mist, she looked like some spirit, the same fairy-like countenance he had witnessed that first morning she tumbled out of the woods.

“Feya,” he said, ready to defend himself, but she was instantly speaking.

“How can ye leave without saying goodbye? Did ye think I wouldnae notice?”

He grunted, unable to put words to his feelings. He walked by her and into the stable, where his horse, Flora, was awake and waiting for him.

“Ye will offend Laird McKenzie,” she tried, but even the threat of hurting his ties with another Laird wasn’t enough to make Archer stay. He unlatched the stall and pushed open the door. “Ye will offend me.”

He paused, looking at her fully for the first time. Feya’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were filled with that defiance he had come to love. A defiance that was holding back all the other feelings churning inside of her.

I ken, lass. It’s better to be angry than to be sad.

“Ye have your family,” he reasoned. “You’re home safe, as I promised. We daenae need to draw this out any further. The longer I’m here, the more time Lennox has to sow doubt in me clan.”

Feya pressed her lips into a hard line, taking in the words.

There was so much unsaid between them, so many things on the verge of tumbling out.

For a moment he let himself wonder. What would happen if he told her how he felt?

What would happen if he admitted that the thought of leaving her behind was tearing his heart from his chest?

“Aye,” she nodded, and he saw acceptance in her eyes. “I ken ye are needed back home. I shouldnae ask ye to stay any longer.”

She looked beautiful standing there, lifting her chin in the air as she locked her eyes on his. He saw moisture in her eyes, the gentle curve of her lashes, the pink of her lips.

“At least,” she said, and then her voice faltered. He was drawn forward, pulled in by her gaze and the way she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, struggling to keep her composure. “At least let me say thank ye,” she said.

He stepped forward again, closing the distance between them. The temperature in the barn seemed to change, as did the hunger in Feya’s eyes. Desire coursed through him instantly, the flame jumping to life at the smallest hint of her longing.

“I suppose I have time for that,” he whispered, his voice heavy. He closed the distance so she was only a few inches in front of him. Feya’s chest rose and fell as she stared up at him, her mouth falling open in an irresistible invitation.

“And what would ye like?” she teased, the corner of her mouth turning upward. “What gift can I give ye to express me gratitude?”

“Ye ken what I want, lass,” he said. Archer’s hand drifted to Feya’s waist, rising up so his palm was dangerously close to her breast. “Ye have always kenned.”

She initiated the kiss, rising on her toes to push her mouth against his, still open and eager.

He chuckled as she did this, but the second Feya’s tongue pressed into his mouth, this laughter turned into a groan.

He pushed back with his mouth and his tongue, desperate to let this kiss pass on all the words he couldn’t say.

Archer walked her backward until her back was pressed against the solid wood of the barn.

Somewhere, a horse sighed, but it felt far away, like it came from another world separate from the one he and Feya were now inside of.

Her hands roamed his arms, his back, his thighs, and suddenly she was pulling at his tunic.

She released the fabric enough that her hands could snake up his chest, palms pressed against his skin.

He felt himself lengthen, quickly aroused by Feya’s eagerness. He pushed his hips into her as he kissed down her neck and onto her shoulder. When he was met with fabric instead of skin, he pushed her dress roughly off her shoulder, giving him more access.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice filled with longing for him.

Archer continued licking and kissing down her shoulder and then to her breast, pushing her dress down until he had access to her nipple.

He ran his tongue along the hard nub, and felt Feya melt beneath him, letting out gasps of pleasure with every pass.

“Archer,” she cried, and suddenly her hand was on his abdomen, and then she slipped it down over the front of his trousers.

He groaned and pressed into his palm, straining even further against her hand.

He couldn’t forget the image of Feya’s mouth around him at that pond, the feel of her hand gripping him.

“I want this,” she whispered, her mouth at his ear. “Please, Archer. I’m ready.”

All at once, he crashed back to reality. He imagined someone walking in on them, their clothes in disarray and far too much of Feya exposed. This was too much of a risk, brought on by desperation and the threat of departure. He stepped back, pulling his hips away from her eager hand.

“Nay, lass.” It was nearly impossible to stop himself. Her lips were red from kissing, her hair messy as it framed her face. Her dress was pulled off her shoulder, revealing one perfect breast. “We cannae.”

“Please,” she said. She reached for him again, trying to kiss him, and Archer pushed his mouth against her gently, changing the tempo of things. He ran his finger down the roundness of her breast and then lifted her dress back up, covering her again.

“I willnae take ye in a barn, lass,” he said.

“But I’m asking ye,” she said, and he saw hurt and confusion in her eyes. “Ye said ye wouldnae take me unless I asked it of ye. Daenae ye want to?”

Archer groaned, squeezing his eyes closed as he heard the question.

“Of course I want to,” he told her. He glanced between his legs, where his desire for her was hard and evident between them. “Ye felt how much I want to. But I cannae take that from ye.” He placed a hand on her cheek. “That is for the man ye will love. The man who will be your husband.”

The spectre of this unknown husband suddenly loomed large between, casting a shadow across Archer’s mood.

He didn’t like to think of anyone being with Feya in this way.

Even thinking about another man touching her made Archer’s fingers twitch for his sword.

But he was leaving…and Feya was staying here.

“Thank ye for protecting me,” Feya said, her words suddenly formal, far too cold.

He wanted to pull her into his arms one final time, to feel her cheek pressed against his chest, but he held himself back.

Instead, he grabbed Flora’s bridle from where it hung on the hook and led her out of her stall.

By the time he turned back, Feya was gone.