Page 10 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander

“Surely the culprit couldnae have gotten far,” Cohen huffed. “A quick scout should bring us some answers. I want justice for this incident. Someone could have died.”

Morgana returned her gaze to the Laird, watching as he clenched his jaw. A dark thought crept into her mind. If the fire had been started so easily without anyone knowing, how much easier would it be for her enemies to kill her?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

“Perhaps I should reconsider my options,” Morgana muttered, the words clogging her throat.

The Laird arched a suspicious eyebrow. “And…?” he prompted in a low voice.

He moved closer to her, causing her to step away from Orella and Cohen.

“I think it would be wise for me to accept yer proposal,” she sighed, feeling the weight of her decision settling on her shoulders.

Morgana studied his face, gauging his reaction. Surely he’d be pleased. But as her eyes met his, she caught the sadness flickering in them.

“What is this madness?” The sudden husky voice startled her.

She blinked, feeling as if she’d been stunned and bewitched.

“What is she doin’ here? Or have ye finally realized she’s nae the innocent lass ye think she is?”

“Hold yer tongue, Nathan,” the Laird growled, just as Cohen stepped between them and the councilman. “Or ye just might end up losin’ it.”

“My Laird,” Nathan started, only to be cut off.

“That’s better, but ye’re still interruptin’,” the Laird barked as he wrapped his arm around Morgana’s waist. “I have an announcement to make.”

“Here?” Morgana gasped as she looked at the damaged storeroom.

“And why nae? Here is just as good as any,” the Laird argued. Cohen glanced at Morgana, confusion riddling his face. “I have found my wife.”

“My Laird?” Cohen gasped.

Morgana’s heart fluttered as heat rushed to her cheeks. She glanced over at Orella, whose eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Surely ye jest. Ye cannae marry Morgana,” Cohen sputtered.

“I dinnae see why nae,” the Laird said darkly.

“This is unheard of,” Nathan chimed in. “She’s a murderer.”

“There’s nay proof of that,” the Laird bit out, his fierceness burning like hot coals. He took Morgana’s hand in his own, his grip firm yet reassuring. “I have asked her to be mine, and she has agreed. There’s nothin’ more that needs to be said. Ye must start the weddin’ preparations, for tomorrow, we will settle this matter once and for all.”

Now, Morgana’s heart dropped like a stone in a dark, turbulent lake.

“Tomorrow?” Nathan asked, before the hallway erupted into chaos and discord as more flooded into the hallway to see what the commotion was all about. Council members mingled with the servants that had all come to see for themselves what had transpired.

Their voices rose higher and higher in disagreement as each man tried to outspeak the other.

In the whirlwind of the moment, Morgana felt as if she were floating by, like a cloud. It didn’t take long for the stench of burned sage and rosemary to fade.

“Are ye well?” the Laird asked.

His voice was soft, almost pleading, as Morgana tried to figure out where they had gone. The light gray stone walls vanished and were swiftly replaced with huge logs, as if the corridor was made of the forests of Scotland.

“Aye,” she answered, though her heart raced from more than just the turmoil they had escaped.

The Laird gave her a once-over before leaning against the wall. He folded his arms over his chest as a crooked grin curved his lips.