Page 3 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander

No, she wouldn’t run. Not if it meant that the council of Clan McKenzie would spare her family.

“Morgana Gordon,” a councilman boomed the second she stepped up onto the platform under the archway.

Morgana looked at the tall, broad-shouldered regally dressed man. There was a sternness to his gaze that rattled Morgana’s to her bonesas he stepped up to take her from Cohen.

“Nathan.” Cohen hissed the name like a curse.

His grip on Morgana’s arm tightened, and for a moment, she wondered if he would hand her over to the councilman.

“For the murder of Laird McKenzie, we sentence ye to death,” Nathan announced, his voice devoid of any malice or prejudice.

Morgana glanced at the rope swaying from the stone archway, before her eyes drifted to the sky overhead. The white clouds swirled and floated by as if they were just as eager as some of the councilmen to see her hang.

“Do ye have anythin’ to say for yerself?” another councilman called from the back.

Morgana didn’t even know what she would tell these men. She stood accused of a crime she didn’t commit, but she’d already screamed until her throat was raw trying to plead her innocence.

“The Lord will see ye all punished for the murder of an innocent woman. I didnae kill my husband,” Morgana hissed defiantly as the executioner slipped the noose over her neck and tightened the knot near her left ear.

“On the barrel,” Nathan commanded as he jerked her over to him.

Morgana looked at the whiskey barrel with contempt. Was that to be used as her coffin? Would she have such a dishonorable burial?

Swallowing hard, she arched an eyebrow and climbed up on the barrel.

Nathan pulled the rope. The small fibers of the rope scratched and chafed the tender flesh under her chin as the executioner fastened her hands behind her.

“Ye’re short enough to make this quick,” he whispered in her ear.

She didn’t know whether he was trying to reassure her that her torment would be over soon or he was trying to tease her one last time.

“Just get on with it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Nay need to drag this out any longer than we need to.”

“Ye heard the lass,” another councilman grunted as he licked his parched lips.

The man’s wrinkled face reminded Morgana of the late Laird McKenzie. An icy chill raced down her spine.

Closing her eyes, she held her breath and waited for the barrel to fall out from under her.

“Halt!” a loud voice called out suddenly, eliciting a wave of accusations and protests among the councilmen. “What is this madness? I ken my faither was a devil of a man, but surely he’d never allow for such a display. And with a lass, nay less. Do ye have nay shame?”

“And just who might ye be? Ye have nay right to stop a matter of justice.”

Morgana dared to steal a glance through her long lashes. Fear siphoned her courage drop by drop as she watched the stranger jump down from his horse and hurry over to her.

The unexpected heat of his palms around her waist startled her, making her jump. However, that was all the motion the barrel needed.

Before she could get her footing back, the barrel slipped out from under, the rope went taunt, and down she went as gravity took over.

“Nae today,” the stranger grunted. In a flash, his arms were around her, holding her up before the rope could snuff out her light. “Cut her down, now.”

“On who’s authority?” Nathan demanded as Morgana felt the rope loosen around her hands. She rushed to pull the noose from her neck.

Cool, clean air filled her lungs as she slumped over the stranger’s shoulder, on the verge of passing out.

“Mine,” the stranger replied, glaring at Nathan with the same defiance. “Now, take the lass to my study. As the Laird of this clan, ‘tis my right to pass judgment.”

“That is Lady McKenzie, tried for the murder of Laird McKenzie. She is to hang till dead,” Nathan snapped.