Page 75 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“Shh,” he said. “It’s alright.”
Feya pressed to her knees, and suddenly she was running her hands down his arm, inspecting his chest, inspecting his wounds.
“We have to get ye to the healing chamber,” she said. “Ye must let me clean ye up.”
With his good hand, Archer cradled her face, silencing her. He stared at her for a moment, desperate to tell her that he loved her. He wanted to tell her how grateful he was that she had come back. And, if he could find the courage, he wanted to say that he could never bear it if she left again.
Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her, pressing all his love into that kiss. He pushed aside the pain in his shoulder, the sting of fresh cuts across his chest, and he lost himself in Feya’s embrace. How could she have such an effect on him? How could she peel aside pain and nightmares and anger to see directly to his heart?
“Feya,” he gasped, and she stared back with clear eyes, as if she could read all his thoughts. He pressed his forehead against hers, overwhelmed by the sensation of this woman truly knowing him. No one had ever seen him as Feya could see him. She was the only one who saw the person he truly was.
“Archer,” she started, but he didn’t hear the rest of her words. He felt dizzy and cold. A sensation of falling came over him, followed by an overwhelming exhaustion. His body swayed and then, all at once, the whole world went black.
35
“Any change?”
Feya looked up from her vigil beside Archer’s bed to see Ayla and Holly entering the room. She shook her head at them but immediately brought her eyes back to Archer’s face. She was intent on being there when he woke up. She wanted to be the first person he saw.
She held Archer’s hand as he slept soundly in his bed, the rise and fall of his chest telling her that he was alive, that he was fighting his way back. Ayla came up behind her and rested a hand on Feya’s shoulder.
“He’ll come back to us,” Ayla said. “Just as ye did.”
“Aye,” Holly agreed. “We cannae let ye have a wasted trip.”
Feya smiled, appreciative of the lightness Holly brought. But it wasn’t only her humor she found comforting. It was Holly’sconfident presence, her firm belief that everything would work out all right.
“Honestly, he was overdue for a rest,” Ayla said. She dropped her head to Feya’s shoulder, pressing her chin into the crook of Feya’s neck in an intimate gesture. “I daenae think the man has slept since ye left him.”
Feya brought a hand up to squeeze Ayla’s shoulder, hugging her in gratitude. She had missed these women more than she knew.
“Thank ye for coming back,” Ayla whispered. “He needs ye.”
Holly crossed the room to the open window, where the chill of the evening blew the curtains. She closed it, taking a moment to peer out to the night sky.
“Ye needed me too,” Feya teased as Ayla stood up again. “Otherwise, ye might still be hiding out in that cabin.”
As soon as Feya had gotten Archer safely to his room with the help of his guards, she had set out to find Ayla. Holly had appeared like an angel, swiftly binding wounds and assessing injuries as soon as it was safe to do so. The small group of villagers and soldiers Elijah and Lennox had gathered were mostly dead, no match for the trained men who guarded Archer’s castle. Those who lived were brought swiftly to the cellar cells, where they would await the Laird’s recovery to know their fate.
“Thank goodness ye thought to look for me,” Ayla laughed. “I was getting quite hungry.”
“Thank Holly,” Feya laughed. “She was the one who asked me to think like Archer. She asked me if I knew of anywhere safe he might send ye.”
“He told me not to open the door unless I heard his voice. But I think he’ll be alright that I made an exception for ye.”
Feya and Ayla smiled, sharing a brief moment of relief and joy for being alive. They had both been close to death, but Archer had protected them. It was because of him they were both standing here.
“It’s getting late,” Holly said. She placed a hand on Feya’s head, reminding her of her grandmother’s gentle touch. “Ye should get some rest.”
“I’m staying,” Feya said, leaving no room for argument. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”
Holly and Ayla shared a look, but they didn’t push it. They simply said their goodnights, with Ayla laying a gentle kiss on her brother’s cheek. Then they slipped out of the room, closing the door with a click.
Feya pushed down the covers, checking Archer’s wounds for the hundredth time. They had cleaned and sewn the cuts, wrapping him in healing salve and bandages and then slipping a cleantunic over his head. Holly had helped her assess the blow to his collarbone, bruised and red, but not broken. Now, Feya ran her fingers gently over his shirt, where she knew the cuts were, checking for any sign of blood seeping through.
“Will I live?”
His gruff, groggy voice made her jump, and she looked up to see Archer wide awake and staring at her. His face was free of pain, more peaceful than she had seen in a long time. There were no shadowy memories reflected in his gray eyes, only amusement as he stared down at her, his mouth turned up in a smile.
