Page 27 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“It is not,” Archer said. He gave Lennox a withering look. For a moment, they squared off. Lennox stood with his palms against the table, his expression defiant, but Archer was angrier. He set his jaw and glared, sending daggers with his eyes. He was determined to quiet Lennox, but movement behind the man caught Archer’s eye. There, in the courtyard, Ayla and Feya were walking with saddled horses.
“My Laird?” Lennox asked, noticing Archer’s distraction. When Archer looked back at him, the man gave the smallest of smirks. Archer looked away from Lennox and crossed the room to the messenger, suddenly aware of a much larger danger than a mutinous council member. He couldn’t let this man see Feya. He was a member of Clan McKenzie, the very castle Feya had fled from. What if he recognized her?
“We celebrate your Laird’s appointment,” Archer told the messenger, ignoring Lennox’s protests. “Tell him he has a friend in Clan Dougal.”
“Thank ye, my Laird.”
Archer put a hand on the man’s shoulder as he walked him back to the threshold.
“Ye have ridden hard,” he said. Standing this close, he could see dark circles under the man’s eyes. “How about a nice meal to fill your stomach before ye go? I have the best cook for fifty miles.”
He saw the spark of interest in the man’s expression, quickly replaced by uncertainty. The man had been ordered to deliver his news without delay. As soon as he left Dougal Castle, he would ride hard to the next Laird and the next, until he could report back to McKenzie.
“Callum,” Archer called to one of his men, who quickly left his post at the front entrance to meet Archer and the messenger. “Would ye show this man to the kitchens? Tell Jan to feed him well. Even if she has to take from tonight’s main course.” Archer put a hand on the messenger’s shoulder. “Ye’re in luck. I think it’s duck tonight.”
This final detail convinced the man, and he went willingly with Callum, walking deeper into the castle, far away from the courtyard where Feya and Ayla were laughing. The sound of that carefree laughter made Archer suddenly furious. How could they be so careless? How could Feya risk being discovered?
Archer glanced up to see Elijah in the doorway, likely eager to roll his eyes at Lennox’s behavior. But Archer wasn’t in the mood. There was something more important to deal with.
“Tell them I’m done for the day,” Archer announced. “And tell O’Brien he can have his money for the new walls or roads or whatever he’s looking for.”
Archer turned without a word and pushed through the front door with far more force than necessary.
13
“We have everything, then?” Ayla asked. She and Feya had spent the past few minutes packing their saddlebags with the usual remedies and ointments Ayla and Holly took with them on village visits.
“Aye, we’re well stocked. Prepared for any illness or injury we might encounter.” Feya had made frequent trips through her own village, checking in on coughing bairns and sharing tea with forgetful grandmothers. The promise of doing something so familiar overwhelmed her with a sense of comfort. She smiled at Ayla, who was occupying herself with a knot in her mare’s mane.
“Good,” Ayla said. She pulled her fingers through the knotted hair, and her horse gave a grunt, nudging Ayla’s shoulder with her nose to push the woman away.
“Hey now,” Ayla protested, and she and Feya laughed, amused by the big personality of this giant beast.
It was as they were laughing together that they heard the slam of a door and suddenly saw the glowering figure of Archer storming toward them.
“What do ye think ye are doing?” he asked, and Feya was shocked to see he asked it of her. She blinked at him, looking between Ayla and Archer as she attempted to understand his fury.
“Archer,” Ayla started, but he put his hand up, silencing her.
“Ye cannae be out here,” he said. He reached out and grabbed Feya’s arm, pulling her back to the house. His fingers squeezed hard around her upper arm and Feya yelped, though she was more angry than injured.
“Stop that,” she cried. She dug her heels into the dirt, making her body stiff as a board. “Leave me alone.”
But Archer had no trouble moving her. He simply pulled Feya into him, and before she knew what was happening, Archer had lifted her off the ground. He carried her sideways, handling her with no more effort than a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down,” she cried. Feya turned her hands into fists and pounded at anything she could find. His legs, his arms, his side. When she threw her knee into the small of Archer’s back, he finally groaned and released her. Feya fell in a heap to the dirt, kicking up dust as she got tangled in her skirts.
“What are ye doin’?” she cried from the ground as Archer scowled at her, a hand pressed to his kidneys.
Ayla stood with the horses, looking on with shock and a bit of amusement.
“It isnae safe,” Archer said. He dropped to one knee, bringing his face so close to Feya’s that she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “Do ye ken who is inside? Do ye ken who I just forced down to the kitchen so he wouldnae see ye?”
“Who?” she asked, suddenly fearful. She had a flash of Cohen’s face in her mind. She saw that furious, murderous look as he chased her out of Laird McKenzie’s bedchamber.
“A messenger from Clan McKenzie,” Archer whispered. It was evident Archer thought she was in danger. She could see the concern behind the glower of anger he wore. But unless Cohen or one of his men were on Archer’s doorstep, she couldn’t understand the danger.
“He willane recognize me,” Feya scoffed. She scrambled to her feet and brushed dirt from her dress. “I was only at the castle for the wedding.”
