Page 79 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“I thought we were done with this,” she cried. “I told ye I daenaewantto marry. I daenae want to give up me life to run someone else’s household. Are ye so desperate to get rid of me?”
“Ayla,” he said, but she continued to argue, moving between anger and frustration that Archer struggled to quell. He finally had to grip Ayla hard on the shoulders, force her to look at him.
“Listen to me,” he said, and her open mouth finally snapped closed, though her eyes still burned with accusation. “It’s not about your wedding. I’m askin’ if ye will help me with me own.”
She blinked at him, still not understanding his words.
“I’ve asked Feya to marry me,” he said, and realization finally dawned on her. He saw joy spread across her face, excitement replacing resentment.
“Oh, Archer,” she cried in happiness.
“I daenae ken the first thing about planning a wedding. Will ye help me? I’m sure Feya would much rather plan this thing with ye than a dobber like meself.”
Ayla pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders. Then she pulled back, swatting him playfully on the chest.
“Why dinnae ye tell me?”
“It only just happened. We decided last night.”
“Oh, I knew it would happen. I knew as soon as ye brought Feya home with ye. I could see something in your eyes—the way you looked at her.”
“Then ye knew it far before I did,” Archer laughed. He offered his arm to his sister and guided her along the path again, continuing their walk. He had something else to say to her, something he should have voiced ages ago.
“There’s something else,” he said. “I willnae force ye to marry. Castle Dougal is your home for as long as ye want it. Ye will never hear me mention marriage to ye again.”
“Truly?”
He nodded, touched by the relief and gratitude he saw in her eyes.
“Aye. Though perhaps one more word before we never speak of it again?”
She eyed him sideways, clearly suspicious, but she didn’t silence him. Archer swallowed, wondering if he could articulate what he wanted to say. Feya kept telling him to express his feelings. Well, here was his chance to give it a try.
“I never imagined I could love someone the way I love Feya. And I never knew how good it would feel to have someone love me back.”
“Ye and Feya are special,” Ayla qualified, but Archer shook his head.
“I wouldnae want ye to shut yourself off from it. That’s all I’m sayin’. I want ye to have what I have. Ye deserve this happiness.”
She was silenced by his kindness, but Archer knew she had heard him. She squeezed his arm, hugging him, and gave him a grateful smile.
“I’m happy for ye,” she said when they turned back, headed toward the food that would be waiting for them on the dining table. “But ye better not hurt her. Now I’ll be here to watch ye.”
EPILOGUE
Feya rolled over in bed, sunlight streaming through the window and across the bed, where the large form of Archer still snored quietly beside her. He had pushed the blankets to his waist, and she saw the raw, angry cuts that were nearly healed from his fight with Elijah. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she rolled over to inspect them, checking for any signs of infection.
“What are ye doing?” Archer grumbled, his eyes still closed.
“Just because ye have decided ye are well doesnae mean it is true,” Feya said. She pressed a finger near his scar and heard the air he sucked between his teeth. “See?”
“It doesnae hurt.”
Archer rolled out of bed, moving away from Feya’s prodding fingers. Her body still hummed from their lovemaking last night, and she reached out for him, not ready to get up.
“Where are ye going?” she whined, looking at him with pleading eyes. Archer looked back with amusement, casting his eyes down her naked body, only half-covered by the sheet.
“Are ye not satisfied from last night?” he asked. He stood naked before her, the slice of scars and fresh cuts creating a pattern Feya was starting to memorize.
