Page 11 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“Daenae worry,” he said as he lifted Feya back to the horse. “No one is coming for ye anymore. Ye are safe.”
Archer launched himself behind her and pressed his heels into Flora’s sides. Feya fell backward, but she didn’t try to right herself this time. Instead, she melted into him.
5
His whole castle seemed to descend on him as they rode up, as if they had been waiting for him. But Archer knew he shouldn’t be surprised. He had returned more than a day later than he intended to, and an unaccounted-for Laird would make anyone nervous.
A small group of his council stood in a line, their faces a mixture of concern, worry, and uncertainty. Lennox Galloway stepped forward, one of the most vocal and oppositional members of his council.
“We were worried about ye, my Laird.”
Archer didn’t miss the judgment in Lennox’s voice. He had been chastised by the council for running away without notice in the past. He expected they would only double down on this directive now.
“I was…delayed,” Archer said. He dismounted from the horse and reached up to help Feya down. She had recovered from her shock over the fight in the woods, and he was pleased to see color had returned to her cheeks. As he set her on the ground, she looked up at the castle in front of her. Archer felt a surprising surge of pride to see her admire it.
But then he felt the council’s eyes on him, their confused looks as they regarded Feya.
“I’m home now,” he cried out. “And well. There’s no need for all this formality. Please, go back inside and get back to work.”
Some of the servants and council members who had gathered seemed reluctant to obey, but Archer was the Laird, and none of them were bold enough to defy him openly.
At least not yet.
The thought came to him unbidden, but it spoke to the unease he had been feeling in his household. There was an undercurrent of trouble he had felt for months now, though he’d had no success in tracking down its source.
“Elijah,” he said, calling out to his friend. Elijah turned back at his name, walking by a scowling Lennox as he made his way back into the castle.
“How are ye?” Elijah asked, dropping the formality he was forced to use among other council members. Elijah and Archerhad been friends for a long time, ever since Archer and Elijah’s younger brother were mischievous boys roaming the castle, playing pranks on the servants.
“How has it been here?” Archer asked, ignoring his friend’s question. “Did you hear any talk while I was gone?”
Elijah was well aware of Archer’s concerns. He had been working with Archer to get to the bottom of things, to find out where the seeds of unrest were coming from.
“The council was not happy to hear you went off on your own. Some were angry, others wondered…”
His voice trailed off, but Archer could already picture the words.
“If I finally lost it?” he asked, his voice rising in frustration. “If I lost me mind and wandered into the woods?”
“Something like that,” Elijah nodded, though his smile showed Archer he didn’t put any stock in this. “They’ve seen ye have…episodes. Some of them wonder if they’re affecting your leadership.”
Archer scowled, tired of having to defend himself. He couldn’t control his flashes, or hisepisodes,as the council liked to call them. Lord knows he had tried, but there was no rhyme or reason to when those memories of war would flash into his mind.
The flashes used to be limited to his bedroom, nightmares he could wake from. But lately, they had been happening during the day, even at council meetings. Those who witnessed them said Archer seemed to disappear mid-sentence, life draining from his eyes as he was pulled into these living nightmares. Sometimes it was a full minute before he came back from them.
“Who’s questioning me?” Archer asked. “Is it Lennox?”
Elijah regarded him with a serious expression, then nodded.
“Aye. He’s getting more vocal. Making bolder statements about whether ye are fit to lead.”
“Ahhh,” he cried in frustration. He caught Feya’s concerned look, but right now he didn’t care about frightening her. A pounding started behind his eyes, a familiar sign of trouble. “Me faither would never put up with such insolence,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Me faither would never let a member of his council question him.”
“Aye,” Elijah agreed. “But your faither is not here.”
A sharp pain in his head made Archer squeeze his eyes tight, fighting the sensation. His father’s face appeared, twisted in pain. Archer saw his mouth open as he tried to speak, but no sound appeared. When he opened his eyes once more, he was on his knees, Elijah and Feya bent over him.
“My Laird,” Elijah cried. “Are ye alright?”
