Page 8 of Taken By the Devilish Highlander
“I am nae crazy, lass. I daenae see ghosts floating through the sky or talk to imaginary friends like some imbecile.”
“Nay,” Feya said, quickly realizing she had said the wrong thing. She needed to calm him down again, make him see that she understood. “Ye have flashes. Moments of memory when ye least expect them. Is that right?”
He looked at her, surprised, and Feya knew she had guessed correctly. She nodded.
“I’ve seen men with this before. After difficult times in battle. We call it soldier’s heart.”
“’It’s nothing soldierly about it,” Archer growled, pushing to his feet. “’It’s a weakness I must rid meself of. Somethingyemust rid me of.”
She had only met this man yesterday, but she felt a strong desire to help him. Something in her chest ached to hear he was suffering, and she knew from the nightmare she had witnessed that this was no minor case. Archer did need someone to help him. Someone who could cure him of these haunted memories before they ate up every last bit of his happiness.
But there were her siblings to think about. Morgana and Tormod. Ronnie and the twins. She had put them all in danger when she walked into Laird McKenzie’s chamber. She couldn’t abandon them now.
“I will help ye,” Feya said, and her heart broke to see the hope in his eyes that she would soon dash. “But I must see me family first. I must ensure my sisters and brothers are safe. Then I will come back to ye. Like I promised.”
“Stop, Feya.” Archer stepped back to the bed, moving so quickly she had no time to move. He grabbed her hands in his own and pulled her up from the bed, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Stop and think about this. Who saw the murderer?”
“I did,” she answered meekly.
“So, who is in danger?”
She knew what he wanted her to say, but Feya couldn’t bring herself to.
“I cannae just leave them—” she began to protest, but Archer squeezed her hands again, asking her to think.
“Your siblings daenae ken who killed McKenzie. And the man who did willnae reveal himself to them—It’s folly to do so. But if ye go back there, what then? The man will be forced to deal with ye, and it will put your siblings at risk in the process.”
She looked up at him, her small hands dwarfed by his larger ones. She could feel the warmth of his skin in her hands, the hard calluses on his palms. It was harder to breathe when he was this close to her, harder to think straight. Was Archer seeing the situation more clearly, better able to weigh the pros and cons of going back there?
“Perhaps ye are right,” she said, though it pained her to admit such a thing. How could she stay away from her siblings? How would she live without knowing if they were safe? Without knowing if her foolish actions had brought harm to every one of them?
Suddenly Archer’s hand was below her chin, tilting her face to his. She gasped at the movement, suddenly convinced the manwas going to kiss her. She watched his mouth, set in a hard line, so good at masking whatever he was feeling.
“Hear this,” he said. Feya stared into his gray eyes, unable to pull herself away. “If ye come with me…If ye can heal me of thissoldier’s heart, or whatever it is that’s tormenting me…Heal me and I will take ye back to McKenzie meself. I’ll bring ye back to your family. I’ve already saved your life once, lass. Let me do it again.”
For a brief moment, Archer’s hand moved up the side of Feya’s face. She held her breath as she felt the roughness of his palm slide up her neck and then cup her cheek. She leaned into it. She couldn’t help herself. But just as quickly, his hand was gone.
Archer stepped back, putting distance between them, but Feya’s breath still came fast, and her neck and chest felt hot. What were these emotions she was feeling? So confused and excited all at once. The man in front of her was a monster, a man who would kill without a second thought. Could she really agree to go with him? But what if he was right...what if Feya’s return to her home would only put her siblings in danger?
“Alright,” she said, cutting through the silence. “I’ll go with ye.”
4
Before setting off for Castle Dougal, Archer paid a visit to the innkeeper. He haggled with the man over a dress for Feya and a shirt for himself, since neither of them was in a fit state to travel. When he returned to the room, he was grumbling about the man cheating him, but Feya was pleased to see a simple frock, stockings, and even shoes.
Archer stayed outside while she changed, guarding the door. And even though she knew he would not come inside until she called to him, she dressed as quickly as she could. She found that the innkeeper’s daughter was a close match to her in size. Though a bit large in the waist, she was able to cinch the apron tight around her middle to make the dress fit nicely. Even the shoes were a close match, only half a size too big.
Archer did not fare so well. The innkeeper wasn’t a small man, but he carried all his weight in his stomach. Archer’s broad shoulders and defined biceps strained against the shirt’s seams, making him scowl anytime he tried to move.
“It will stretch,” Feya said when she saw him, though she couldn’t hold back the smirk rising from deep within her.
“Let’s go,” the man grumbled. “We’ve stayed in one place too long already.”
Archer stormed down the steps and past the innkeeper without a word. He was still bitter that the man had charged him so much for the clothes, recognizing Archer wasn’t in a position to say no. Feya was the one who turned to the innkeeper and his wife with a smile and thanked them for their hospitality.
“Come, lass,” Archer said impatiently, already standing beside his horse. “Me men will think me dead and send out a search party if I am nae back soon.”
But Feya’s feet slowed as she saw the large black mare in front of her. She had not thought this through. Panic began to rise in her throat as she realized Archer only had one horse. That meant she would ride in front of him the whole time, that broad expanse of chest behind her, his hips tantalizingly close. She had a flash of Archer pinning her down on the bed, his strong thighs brushing against her own.
