Page 67 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
It was still quite early, the sky barely lightening as the sun rose over the horizon. He surprised a few guards who were snoozing at their posts, making them jump to attention as he passed. But Archer didn’t pay them any mind. He simply set his sights on the stables, where his mare would be waiting for him. The groomsmen would still be asleep in their beds, but Archer didn’t mind. He preferred to saddle his horse on his own anyway.
“I had a feeling.”
He startled at the voice, looking up from the hard-packed dirt to see Feya leaning against the wall of the stables, arms across her chest. In the morning mist, she looked like some spirit, the same fairy-like countenance he had witnessed that first morning she tumbled out of the woods.
“Feya,” he said, ready to defend himself, but she was instantly speaking.
“How can ye leave without saying goodbye? Did ye think I wouldnae notice?”
He grunted, unable to put words to his feelings. He walked by her and into the stable, where his horse, Flora, was awake and waiting for him.
“Ye will offend Laird McKenzie,” she tried, but even the threat of hurting his ties with another Laird wasn’t enough to make Archer stay. He unlatched the stall and pushed open the door. “Ye will offend me.”
He paused, looking at her fully for the first time. Feya’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were filled with that defiance he had come to love. A defiance that was holding back all the other feelings churning inside of her.
I ken, lass. It’s better to be angry than to be sad.
“Ye have your family,” he reasoned. “You’re home safe, as I promised. We daenae need to draw this out any further. The longer I’m here, the more time Lennox has to sow doubt in me clan.”
Feya pressed her lips into a hard line, taking in the words. There was so much unsaid between them, so many things on the verge of tumbling out. For a moment he let himself wonder. What would happen if he told her how he felt? What would happen if he admitted that the thought of leaving her behind was tearing his heart from his chest?
“Aye,” she nodded, and he saw acceptance in her eyes. “I ken ye are needed back home. I shouldnae ask ye to stay any longer.”
She looked beautiful standing there, lifting her chin in the air as she locked her eyes on his. He saw moisture in her eyes, the gentle curve of her lashes, the pink of her lips.
“At least,” she said, and then her voice faltered. He was drawn forward, pulled in by her gaze and the way she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, struggling to keep her composure. “At least let me say thank ye,” she said.
He stepped forward again, closing the distance between them. The temperature in the barn seemed to change, as did the hunger in Feya’s eyes. Desire coursed through him instantly, the flame jumping to life at the smallest hint of her longing.
“I suppose I have time for that,” he whispered, his voice heavy. He closed the distance so she was only a few inches in front of him. Feya’s chest rose and fell as she stared up at him, her mouth falling open in an irresistible invitation.
“And what would ye like?” she teased, the corner of her mouth turning upward. “What gift can I give ye to express me gratitude?”
“Ye ken what I want, lass,” he said. Archer’s hand drifted to Feya’s waist, rising up so his palm was dangerously close to her breast. “Ye have always kenned.”
She initiated the kiss, rising on her toes to push her mouth against his, still open and eager. He chuckled as she did this, but the second Feya’s tongue pressed into his mouth, this laughter turned into a groan. He pushed back with his mouth and his tongue, desperate to let this kiss pass on all the words he couldn’t say.
Archer walked her backward until her back was pressed against the solid wood of the barn. Somewhere, a horse sighed, but it felt far away, like it came from another world separate from the one he and Feya were now inside of. Her hands roamed his arms, his back, his thighs, and suddenly she was pulling at his tunic. She released the fabric enough that her hands could snake up his chest, palms pressed against his skin.
He felt himself lengthen, quickly aroused by Feya’s eagerness. He pushed his hips into her as he kissed down her neck and onto her shoulder. When he was met with fabric instead of skin, he pushed her dress roughly off her shoulder, giving him more access.
“Please,” she gasped, her voice filled with longing for him. Archer continued licking and kissing down her shoulder and then to her breast, pushing her dress down until he had access to her nipple. He ran his tongue along the hard nub, and felt Feya melt beneath him, letting out gasps of pleasure with every pass.
“Archer,” she cried, and suddenly her hand was on his abdomen, and then she slipped it down over the front of his trousers. He groaned and pressed into his palm, straining even further against her hand. He couldn’t forget the image of Feya’s mouth around him at that pond, the feel of her hand gripping him.
“I want this,” she whispered, her mouth at his ear. “Please, Archer. I’m ready.”
All at once, he crashed back to reality. He imagined someone walking in on them, their clothes in disarray and far too muchof Feya exposed. This was too much of a risk, brought on by desperation and the threat of departure. He stepped back, pulling his hips away from her eager hand.
“Nay, lass.” It was nearly impossible to stop himself. Her lips were red from kissing, her hair messy as it framed her face. Her dress was pulled off her shoulder, revealing one perfect breast. “We cannae.”
“Please,” she said. She reached for him again, trying to kiss him, and Archer pushed his mouth against her gently, changing the tempo of things. He ran his finger down the roundness of her breast and then lifted her dress back up, covering her again.
“I willnae take ye in a barn, lass,” he said.
“But I’m asking ye,” she said, and he saw hurt and confusion in her eyes. “Ye said ye wouldnae take me unless I asked it of ye. Daenae ye want to?”
Archer groaned, squeezing his eyes closed as he heard the question.
