Page 63 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“A standard room is fine,” he said. He remembered the man charging him an arm and a leg for the simple clothes he had to buy from him the last time they were here. No doubt the man remembered it as well. Archer placed his coins on the counter and slid them to the man, determined not to let the man take advantage of him this time.
The innkeeper didn’t argue, simply slid the coins across the counter and into his pocket. Then he walked them up the stairs and unlocked a room, simple but clean. The man passed over the key, and Archer nodded to Feya, telling her to get inside. Thankfully, he didn’t protest, though he could see defiance building in her eyes. He followed her in and closed the door, relieved that another step of his journey was done.
Just get her home safely. Fulfill your side of the bargain.
“What was that?” Feya asked, turning on him the second he closed the door. Archer shook his head and walked past her, dropping his saddlebags onto the bed.
“Did ye think I would leave ye alone?” he asked. He began unpacking the change of clothes his man had packed for the ceilidh. “Not when I’m this close to having ye home safe, lass.”
Archer’s mind raced ahead, thinking of the task in front of him. He was attending a wedding party uninvited, which would require some careful movement. Sneaking into the castle on such a busy night shouldn’t be hard, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone recognized him. His tall stature and soldier’s build would make it hard to hide for long.
“We’re on McKenzie lands,” Feya argued. “And me sister is the Lady of the Castle. What danger can I still be in?”
“And what do ye ken of Cohen?” Archer asked. “I dinnae ken if he’s still in the castle, still looking for ye. I cannae have someone see ye who might report back to him.” Archer pulledhis shirt over his head, feeling frustration build in his chest. Why was Feya making this harder? And yet, he knew it wasn’t really Feya he was frustrated with. He was mad at himself for the rash decision he made to attend this celebration. And then, somewhere deeper, the ticking clock that meant Feya would soon be home.
“Ye cannae protect me forever,” she argued. “What will ye do tonight when people see me? As soon as we arrive, they will ken I’m alive.”
He looked at her in surprise, a clean shirt halfway over his head.
“Ye arenae coming to the ceilidh.”
He pulled the shirt down and dropped his breeches, busying himself with dressing in his kilt and the traditional outfit of his clan. He could feel Feya’s shock. He felt the heat of her anger as if it were the sun shining down onto his skin.
“What do ye mean?” she asked. “It is me sister’s wedding.”
“It isnae safe,” he said simply. Archer had been avoiding this conversation all day, knowing Feya wouldn’t be pleased. He should have told her days ago, as soon as he made the decision to travel here. But something had stopped him. Perhaps his knowledge that it would only lead to a fight.
“And what will ye do, lock me in this room?”
“If I have to,” he shrugged. He threw his plaid over his shoulder and set about pinning it, but suddenly Feya was pushing her way in front of him. She set her hands on her hips and stared up at him, forcing him to look at her.
“Was this your plan all along? Ye planned to leave me in this room while ye celebrate at me own family’s wedding? How heartless can ye be?”
Her voice broke on the last question, and Archer’s chest flooded with pain. He saw the pain in her eyes, the tears forming in her frustration and heartbreak.
How would ye feel if ye couldnae attend Ayla’s wedding?
The thought softened him, and he reached for Feya’s hand. His other hand went to her cheek, cupping her face in his palm. It was time to tell her the truth.
“I amnae trying to hurt ye,” he said gently.
“Then let me come,” she cried out, but Archer shook his head, silencing her.
“Feya, I wasnae invited. They daenae ken I’m coming.”
She slowly took in the information, understanding all at once what he was admitting to her. The sadness in her face transformed into shock, and then quickly to worry.
“What do ye mean?” she asked. Archer dropped his hand from her face, letting out a sigh. “Ye’re showing up uninvited? What if they throw ye out…or worse?”
“It willnae come to that,” he assured her. Feya began to protest, but Archer sat her down on the bed, knowing he had little time to make her understand. “Just listen to me.”
Her mouth was open to say something, but she quickly closed it. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for his explanation, and Archer took a seat next to her.
“McKenzie didnae invite me. It could be a mistake, but if it isnae, it’s a sign he doesn’t trust me. Or worse, he thinks Clan Dougal is weak. I have to show me face there. I must show McKenzie that Clan Dougal can’t be shunned like that.”
“But what if it makes things worse? What if he is angry about it? Ye could be making an enemy of yourself.”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But how else will I ken if it’s safe to bring ye back there? How else will I ken if Cohen is still there, still looking for ye?”
