Page 42 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“The council missed you this afternoon.”
The man reached across the table and grabbed a piece of bread.
“I think ye’re all capable of handin’ the petty arguments of farmers without me.”
“The more ye are absent, the more Lennox speaks up. And the more rumors spread.”
“What rumors?” Ayla asked.
Elijah looked at her with a tinge of annoyance, regarding her for the first time. Archer had always sensed a hint of tension between his man-at-arms and his sister, though it was always subtle enough that he couldn’t call Elijah out for it. Archer raised his eyebrows at Elijah now, waiting for him to answer Ayla’s question.
“Let’s just say I’m pleased to see that woman isnae dining with ye tonight.”
“That woman?” Archer asked, instantly defensive. He gripped his knife hard and glared at Elijah, waiting for him to say something further.
“Feya,” Elijah said, correcting himself. “I ken she’s here to help ye, but it may serve ye well to distance yourself a bit. Ye ken how people talk.”
“About what?” There was a threat in his voice, but Archer couldn’t help it. Even if Elijah was only the messenger here, he needed to understand that Archer wouldn’t accept anyonespeaking ill of Feya, even if they were only repeating something else they had heard.
“She’s a healer,” Elijah said. “Of course, people are going to have opinions. They think she has influence over ye. That all of these tonics and powders might be altering ye in some way, making ye make decisions?—”
“Oh, not this again,” Ayla said. She slammed her spoon on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t tell me there’s talk of witchcraft. We already dealt with this with Holly.”
“All right,” Archer said gently. He gave a small gesture with his fingers to try to calm Ayla down. Then he turned to Elijah.
“I think ye’d better speak clearly,” he said. He set his knife down, suddenly losing his appetite. He watched Elijah gesture to the man in the corner, asking for a plate. Archer was suddenly angry, frustrated that his man-at-arms felt comfortable enough to invite himself to dinner.
Malcolm used to eat with ye all the time, he reminded himself.
“I’m only trying to warn ye,” he said. “People see her going into your office or even your bed chamber. Ye ken Lennox has eyes all over this castle.”
“She’s a healer,” he burst out with a slam of his fist on the table. The plates and silverware bounced with a clank. “How can she heal if she isnae permitted to see me?”
“I’m only telling ye what I heard,” Elijah said. “And what Lennox is saying in these council meetings when ye’re not around. He’s turnin’ people against ye. And he’s using your healer to do so.”
21
Feya stayed in her room for the rest of the night, though she hardly slept. Every time she drifted into sleep, she found herself back in Archer’s bed. She would dream of his mouth on her skin, of the electricity he dispersed through her body. But then new images started to form: Archer’s bare chest in the bathtub, his tongue between her legs, the shock of his erection against her leg. But she would wake with a jolt before her imagination took her too far.
It led to a restless, frustrating night, and by 4 a.m., she couldn’t take it anymore. With the first hint of sun, she rose, eager to distract herself from all the worries of the previous day. She paced her room barefoot, trying to release the tension stuck in her muscles and calm her racing heart, but it only made claustrophobia set in, the walls of her bedchamber feeling oppressive.
Finally, when it felt acceptable to leave, she dressed and left her bed chamber.
The castle was quiet, with only the occasional kitchen maid rushing down the hall, tying her apron around her waist. Feya let her feet take her where they wanted, and she soon found herself exploring a familiar path down the steps to the healing chamber. The space was a peaceful spot, and Feya’s mind was a mess with worry, excitement, and questions. Perhaps the calming space would soothe her.
When she entered, she was surprised to feel a breeze across the octagonal room. She looked up to the large French doors to the garden which were wide open. She smelled fresh dew and newly turned dirt and heard the birds singing with the rising sun. It looked bright and warm out there, and Feya was pulled outside. There, she saw a small figure bent over the earth, long white-blonde hair blocking the woman’s face. It took Feya a moment to realize who was kneeling in the dirt.
“Holly,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. The woman looked over as if she were expecting Feya to arrive. She gave a brief smile and then looked back at the ground, where she was packing dirt around a small sapling.
“We have a new child,” Holly whispered as Feya knelt in the dirt beside her. She stared at the dirt around Holly’s fingernails and had the urge to press her own fingers into the moist soil. She helped Holly create a small mound of dirt around the tiny tree that was just starting to sprout some branches and a single, green leaf.
“A bairn was born?” Feya asked. Ayla had explained Holly’s ritual. Anytime a child was born in the village, she planted a treein the baby’s honor. There were trees scattered all around the castle grounds, but Feya had never seen her plant one here, in the healing garden.
“Were you with the mother?” Feya asked. Holly looked over, and there was a complicated look on her face. All at once, Feya realized this wasn’t the joy of someone who had witnessed new life. There was something dark in Holly’s eyes, a tinge of sadness. The woman nodded gravely and looked back at the tree.
“The bairn didnae make it?”
Feya put a hand on top of Holly’s, but it was Holly who looked over and gave Feya a brave smile, as if she were the one who needed comforting.
