Page 31 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“Aye, lass. And even good days must come to an end. Time to get back before they send out a search party.”
He turned to go, and Feya surprised him by rushing forward to take his hand. She squeezed it, brief and hard, before dropping it as quickly as she had grabbed it.
“There ye are,” Ayla said. She had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, something Archer knew she hadn’t arrived with. Sure enough, as soon as Feya appeared, an identical one was wrapped around her shoulders by the women of the village.
“Thank ye,” Feya said. She gripped the woman’s hands in a gesture of gratitude. “This was a lovely evening.”
“Ye are welcome back anytime,” the woman said. And then she turned her eyes to Archer. “Ye too, me Laird. Daenae wait so long to visit us next time.”
15
They rode back quietly, the sound of crickets growing louder as night approached. Archer was anxious to get back, aware they had stayed out too long and had no lanterns to guide them home. Luckily, his horses had walked these paths frequently, and they carried them in the right direction without being asked.
At times, Feya’s horse stepped forward to join his, and Archer would look over, catching Feya’s eye. He was rewarded with a smile or a look of mischief that told him precisely what Feya was thinking of. Those looks sent heat directly to his core, and he had to remind himself that his sister was behind them, likely watching their every move.
“Welcome back, my Laird,” the stable master said as they walked the horses into the barn. A few sleepy groomsmen jumped to attention to take the ladies’ horses and help them down from the mares.
“Thank ye,” Archer said.
“There was a messenger while ye were gone,” the man said, and Archer heard hesitation in his voice, as if he weren’t sure if it was his place to share this news. But Archer was instantly alert, since he wasn’t expecting anyone. After receiving the messenger from Castle McKenzie, he didn’t think another would visit so quickly.
“From Clan Scott, if I’m not mistaken, sir. I recognize the insignia.”
“When?” Archer asked. Laird Scott was his closest neighbor to the East, a man he respected but didn’t trust. Clan Scott had been hot and cold during the war with Archer’s enemies to the West, always promising help but often sending soldiers who were less than adequate. But Archer couldn’t afford to make an enemy of Scott, a wealthy man with good connections.
“An hour ago, my Laird.”
“Thank ye,” he said. “I’ll visit Scott meself tomorrow. Find out what he wants. Have a horse ready at first light.”
He turned to go, suddenly upset with himself for leaving the castle. He knew Scott could take offense at his absence when his messenger returned to say Archer couldn’t see him. And his own council would likely be furious, left to make excuses for their Laird who had once again left without telling them where he was going.
“He’s still here, my Laird,” the man said. Archer stopped and turned back, and the man elaborated. “The messenger hasnae left. He’s in with your council now.”
A wave of anger flushed from his head down to his toes and Archer spun on his heel, storming back to the castle. Behind him he thought he heard a woman’s voice calling to him, but he ignored it. He pressed his fingernails into the palm of his hand as he balled his fists, ready to strangle whatever council members were currently in the chamber, holding meetings without him.
“What is the meaning of this?” Archer asked, throwing open the council door. Three sets of eyes blinked at him, taking in his loose hair and the dirt on his boots.
“My Laird.” Lennox stood first, followed by Elijah. They were alone in the chamber with the man dressed in Scott colors. The messenger sat in front of them, a glass of ale on the table at his side. “We were just welcoming our friend from the East.”
“And who told ye to welcome him without your Laird?”
He could already imagine Scott laughing at him. The second the messenger returned with stories of Archer’s absence and the news that his council had taken the meeting without him, Scott would consider Archer weak. He would know he didn’t have control over his men, that there was disruption in his clan.
“We thought it best to hear the man out,” Lennox said. He glanced at the messenger with a look of apology, but it only made Archer more furious. A rush of noise like fast-moving water overwhelmed his ears.
“Then ye think wrong, Lennox. Ye are here to serve your Laird, not handle matters of state on your own.”
He heard the distant cry of a man in pain, and saw an image of steel meeting steel, sun shining off the blade. A shot of pain hit his temple, and Archer pushed his fingers into his forehead. He could feel the vision coming on, rising as quickly as his anger. He could also feel that he would have no power to stop it.
“Please, my Laird,” Elijah said. Archer could just make out the man’s image through the visions of war closing in on him. Elijah’s face was filled with concern as he stood up, one arm outstretched.
“Ye should leave us,” Archer said, but he had to grip the back of a chair to hold himself upright. His father called to him from far ahead, and he felt the rumble of approaching horses beneath his feet. Archer focused on the tiles on the floor, trying to count the swirls of the geometric design. But when he looked up, Malcolm’s face floated in front of his.
“Where are ye?” Malcolm asked. “Why dinnae ye come?”
Archer stepped forward and felt pain in his side. He looked down to see his hand pressed against his ribs, and when he pulled it away, his fingers were sticky with blood.
“I’m hit,” he said, but suddenly Malcolm was gone and suddenly, Archer found himself in an abandoned field, no movement except for the steam coming off the blood-stained river. All around him, soldiers lay dead. He saw their open, lifeless eyes,all of which stared at him. Accusing him of stealing life when they had lost it.
