Page 35 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
It isnae Elijah’s fault Malcolm isn’t here…
“It’s alright,” Archer nodded. “We were lucky the messenger didnae have any important news. And lucky Feya was there to save the situation.”
His men had told him how Feya handled the situation, greeting the messenger and bringing him for a private meeting with her. There, the man delivered his message: he had come to deliver news of Scott’s sister being married to a wealthy Lord. Nothing of much consequence, and yet he was proud of Feya for understanding the delicacy of the situation. She had handled herself well, which was more than he could say for the two men of his council who seemed intent on bumbling things.
“Ye can go,” Archer said, suddenly desperate to be alone. He looked down at the correspondence in front of him, but he could feel Elijah’s annoyance across the room. His man didn’t want to be dismissed like a child, but Archer didn’t have the patience for him right now. Not when his face looked so much like his brother’s, reminding Archer of everything he could have had.
“And what would ye have me do?”
Archer closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
“Trail Lennox,” Archer suggested. “If ye are so sure we will catch him in an act of treason, we must keep our eyes on him.”
He could tell Elijah wanted to say something, but Archer didn’t give him the chance. He picked up a pen and began writing, barely aware of the letters he was scratching out on the page. Finally, his boots heavy on the stone floor, Elijah stormed out.
A gentle knock on the open door surprised him, and for a moment, he thought Elijah had returned. He looked up to see Feya in the doorway, her deep blue dress complementing the storm he saw reflected in her eyes. But her beauty couldn’t erase the ugliness of their argument last night. When Feya had seen his weakness, had recognized what a broken, unfixable thing he truly was.
“Leave it on the table,” he said.
He was used to Feya’s morning visits, when he would gulp down whatever mixture she brought to him. Though he was skeptical that anything would work after so many tries, he always found himself heartened by Feya’s hopeful expression. She still believed she could find a cure, despite weeks of his episodes he was helpless to stop.
“No medicine today,” she said, and he looked up at her in the doorway. A flash of Feya against the villager’s house flooded his brain. He could still feel her thighs as he held her up, could still remember the glorious feeling of pressing his arousal against her.
Was that a blush in her cheeks? He caught himself smiling as he wondered if Feya was having the same thoughts he was.
“Then leave me, lass,” he said. He wouldn’t allow himself to be tempted by Feya today. The dancing and the drinking in the village last night had made him lose his reason, but he couldn’t let it happen again. He forced himself to remember the way Feya looked at him last night, the way she saw him as something broken that needed to be fixed.
Let me help ye,she had said.It’s why I’m here.
Another person to fix him. Another person trying to put together what had been irrevocably smashed.
“I have something new today,” she said. The hesitation in her voice was intriguing. She was trying to be brave, but Archersensed the memory of last night was fresh in her mind. Was she worried he would yell again?
“I’m busy today,” he grumbled. “Perhaps ye can come back later.”
“Nay,” she said, and he was surprised by the defiant tone in her voice. It reminded Archer of the girl he had first met in the woods and the woman who had gone head-to-head with him in that village inn. He smiled despite himself and caught her eye across the room.
“Nay?” he asked, his voice playful. “Ye would say nay to your Laird?”
“Only when it’s for his own good,” she answered. He watched her squeeze her hands together, and he wanted to pull them apart, to slip his fingers in between hers.
“Me own good?” he asked, and she nodded, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. It made Archer’s stomach flip, and he felt a flush of warmth through his chest and his stomach.
“Come with me,” she ordered, adding more of that commanding tone. She turned around to leave, but then she glanced over her shoulder, clearly uncertain if he would follow. But now Archer was too intrigued to deny her. He stood up and left his work on the desk, setting his eyes on her swaying hips as she left the room.
“Where are ye takin’ me?” he asked, but she only looked back and pressed her lips together as she guided him down the hallway. They were alone through the pathways of the castle, and there were far too many shaded doorways and empty rooms that Archer dreamed about pulling Feya into.
But he kept his hands at his sides, reminding himself to stay under control. When they finally reached the final destination, he was confused to see the door to his own bed chamber in front of them, slightly ajar.
“What are we doin’ here, lass?”
He couldn’t stop the images that flooded his mind. He saw Feya on the bed, looking up at him from the oversized pillows. He saw his hand running up her leg, pressing those dark velvet skirts higher and higher until he could feel the soft skin of her inner thigh.
“Ye’ll see,” she answered, and her own voice was deep, as if she could read Archer’s mind.
When Feya pushed open the door, he saw that his bedchamber was neat and organized. The only thing out of the ordinary was a large metal tub in the center, steam still rising from the water. The smell of lavender and something more pungent reached his nose, and he saw flowers and herbs floating on the water’s surface.
“It’s a bath,” she said as they stepped into the room. She stared at the water as she said it, words suddenly tumbling outin her nervousness. “There’s lavender to calm your nerves and mugwort. It’s meant to help ye sleep and stop any bad dreams. Plus some camomile petals…”
