Page 37 of Taken by the Devilish Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #7)

S he cried out as he entered her, overwhelmed with the strength of him, the way he filled her so completely. He moved slowly at first, brushing hair away from her forehead as he held her gaze, seeking out any hint of pain.

“Are ye alright?” he asked, and Feya had to find her voice, had to press through the haze of sensations to actually speak. She had never felt anything like this before, and suddenly, she never wanted it to end.

“Keep going,” she gasped, and somewhere above her, she heard Archer chuckle.

He pulled his hips back tantalizingly slowly.

Feya pressed her eyes closed, overwhelmed with the pleasure that was now coursing through her like waves.

She gripped the sheets in her fists as he pulled out most of the way, only to push himself forward again.

“Archer,” she cried, unable to hold back, and his mouth was suddenly on her neck and up to her ear.

“I love making ye scream,” he growled, and he thrust forward, picking up speed. His hand went to her breast, and he pulled at her nipple, setting her whole body on fire. Feya ran her hands up his arms, delighting in the strength of him, the size of this man who dwarfed her in this bed.

Archer grabbed her thigh and held her tight as he pushed in and out of her, finding a perfect rhythm.

She couldn’t stop the small gasps of pleasure he elicited with every push, a shock of bliss every time he filled her completely.

And then his other hand moved to the space between her legs, and his thumb began rubbing.

“Oh,” she cried, and she looked up in surprise, only to see his determined glance.

He was eager to bring her pleasure, clearly determined to show her exactly what he could do to her.

She relaxed into him, letting Archer take control.

His length worked inside of her, even as his hand teased and rubbed.

Tension built deep in her stomach, and Feya pressed her heels into the bed, every muscle stiffening.

“That’s it,” he said, but he sounded far away. “Good lass.”

It was like jumping off a cliff or crashing into a wave.

She exploded around him, lost to the sensations that pulsed in her stomach, between her legs, down to her toes.

Her body squeezed around Archer’s length, and he grunted in pleasure, his hand dropping away from her, as Feya’s hips lifted from the bed.

She saw colors behind her eyelids, and then she heard Archer’s cry, felt him pull out of her as he found his own release.

He rested on hands and knees above her, gasping, and Feya did her best to regain her breath, to come back down from the euphoria she had just experienced.

Archer’s large frame crashed down beside her, equally spent, and her body rolled closer to him, where she curled up into his chest. Their legs tangled into one another, and Feya pressed her forehead against his warm skin.

“Are ye alright?” he whispered into her hair, and Feya nodded.

“More than alright,” she told him. “But what about ye? Did I hurt ye?”

Now that they had satisfied their desires for one another, her worry about Archer’s injuries returned. But Archer’s chest rose and fell with laughter.

“Ye could never hurt me, love. Though I do think we may have opened up some of these stitches.”

She gasped, horrified to hear this, but Archer wrapped his arm around her, holding her exactly where she was.

“It barely hurts,” he assured her. “One more scar willnae kill me. Besides, I’d like to remember this night for a good long time.”

He placed a kiss on Feya’s head, and she relaxed against him, warm and content with Archer’s love. They were quiet for a moment, and just as Feya felt the welcome comfort of sleep, she was woken again by Archer’s laugh.

“What is it?’ she asked, catching his joy even though she couldn’t read his thoughts.

“I was thinking of tomorrow, when Holly helps ye stitch me up again.”

“And that’s funny?” Feya asked.

“Aye,” he chuckled. “It will be when I tell her ye are responsible.”

“Me?” Feya cried, turning red at the very thought of Holly finding out what she and Archer had been up to.

“Well, I certainly dinnae do it to meself,” he teased.

“Be careful or I’ll do it to ye again,” Feya threatened, and she saw the flash of hunger in Archer’s eyes.

“Aye, lass,” he said, dropping his gaze to her lips. “I’m counting on it.”

“There is the matter of the prisoners, my Laird.”

Archer sat in his council chambers, alert and focused. Ever since Elijah and Lennox attempted to pull his clan away from him, he had a new focus, a determination to be the best leader his clan had seen.

“Aye,” he nodded. “The men who fought with the rebellion.” He glanced around the room, taking in the two new council members he had added to his table. He had chosen carefully, wanting to round out his advisors in the best way possible, and, so far, he was pleased with his choices.

“They’ve been in the dungeon for a week, my Laird. We were waiting for ye to return to health so ye could make a determination.”

He nodded, running through the options in his mind.

These men had betrayed him, and the old Archer would have sentenced them to death without a thought.

Hell, he may have even executed them himself.

But those instincts represented the old Archer, the one who thought all problems could be solved with a sword.

“If it pleases the council, we should pardon them.” He ran his eyes around the table, taking in the responses. “These men made a mistake, but they arenae soldiers or dangerous criminals. They were simply villagers who fell prey to some powerful men who made them promises.”

“Here here,” O’Brien said, and others nodded.

“It will go over well with the villagers,” Stewart told him. “They will appreciate your leniency. And they will keep an eye on these men for you. I’m certain we will hear about any new stunts they try to pull.”

“It’s settled then,” he said, confident in his decision. “Tell the guards to release them.”

A man in the corner nodded and left the room as Archer returned to his council.

“I believe that’s all for the day,” he said, and the men gave polite bows and nods of respect.

They filed out of the room one by one, orderly and calm.

It was a stark contrast to the contentious council meetings of the past, and Archer was pleased by how quickly had had garnered the respect of this group of men.

One of his new council members, Lane Hamilton, hung back for a moment, hovering by Archer’s chair.

Some believe the man was too old to accept a new council position, that it should be given to a younger man, but Archer had disagreed.

The man had lived through three generations of their clan’s history.

It could only benefit them to listen to the man’s wisdom.

“What is it, Hamilton?” he asked, sensing the man wanted to speak. “Do ye nae agree with the pardoning?”

“I do agree,” Hamilton said, stroking his long beard. “But more importantly, your father would have.”

He caught Archer’s eye and held it for a moment, then nodded before turning away. Archer’s chest swelled with unexpected pride. There was no higher compliment a man could give him than to compare him to his father.

“I thought that meeting would never end.”

Ayla strode through the room, beaming in Archer’s direction. He hadn’t missed how Feya’s return had affected his sister. Her best friend had been returned to her, and she was nearly as happy as Archer was.

“They said ye wanted to talk to me?” she asked.

“Aye,” Archer said. He gestured toward the open French doors, leading her out to the castle grounds. Summer was turning to Fall, and the leaves around their home were beginning to change. Archer breathed in the fresh air and settled into a comfortable stroll, his sister beside him.

“I need to ask for your help.”

“My help?” Ayla asked, and he didn’t miss the amusement in her voice. “It’s been a long time since ye asked anything of me .”

“If ye tease me, I’ll think twice about asking ye,” he laughed, and Ayla brought her hand to cover her mouth, playfully showing him she would be silent. It made Archer think of their childhood, when life felt simpler, when the two of them had been a team.

“Ye ken I’ll help ye,” she said sweetly. “What is it?”

Archer swallowed, suddenly nervous, though he already had an idea of how Ayla would respond.

“Well, it’s about a wedding…”

She was instantly angry, scowling as if he had tricked her. She threw her hands to her hips and turned to him, her cheeks flushed with outrage.

“I thought we were done with this,” she cried. “I told ye I daenae want to marry. I daenae want to give up me life to run someone else’s household. Are ye so desperate to get rid of me?”

“Ayla,” he said, but she continued to argue, moving between anger and frustration that Archer struggled to quell. He finally had to grip Ayla hard on the shoulders, force her to look at him.

“Listen to me,” he said, and her open mouth finally snapped closed, though her eyes still burned with accusation. “It’s not about your wedding. I’m askin’ if ye will help me with me own.”

She blinked at him, still not understanding his words.

“I’ve asked Feya to marry me,” he said, and realization finally dawned on her. He saw joy spread across her face, excitement replacing resentment.

“Oh, Archer,” she cried in happiness.

“I daenae ken the first thing about planning a wedding. Will ye help me? I’m sure Feya would much rather plan this thing with ye than a dobber like meself.”

Ayla pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders. Then she pulled back, swatting him playfully on the chest.

“Why dinnae ye tell me?”

“It only just happened. We decided last night.”

“Oh, I knew it would happen. I knew as soon as ye brought Feya home with ye. I could see something in your eyes—the way you looked at her.”

“Then ye knew it far before I did,” Archer laughed. He offered his arm to his sister and guided her along the path again, continuing their walk. He had something else to say to her, something he should have voiced ages ago.

“There’s something else,” he said. “I willnae force ye to marry. Castle Dougal is your home for as long as ye want it. Ye will never hear me mention marriage to ye again.”

“Truly?”

He nodded, touched by the relief and gratitude he saw in her eyes.

“Aye. Though perhaps one more word before we never speak of it again?”

She eyed him sideways, clearly suspicious, but she didn’t silence him. Archer swallowed, wondering if he could articulate what he wanted to say. Feya kept telling him to express his feelings. Well, here was his chance to give it a try.

“I never imagined I could love someone the way I love Feya. And I never knew how good it would feel to have someone love me back.”

“Ye and Feya are special,” Ayla qualified, but Archer shook his head.

“I wouldnae want ye to shut yourself off from it. That’s all I’m sayin’. I want ye to have what I have. Ye deserve this happiness.”

She was silenced by his kindness, but Archer knew she had heard him. She squeezed his arm, hugging him, and gave him a grateful smile.

“I’m happy for ye,” she said when they turned back, headed toward the food that would be waiting for them on the dining table. “But ye better not hurt her. Now I’ll be here to watch ye.”