Page 37 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander

Ryder shook his head as he pushed away from the table.

“Where are ye goin’?” Felix sputtered as the tavern owner slipped into the empty chair next to him and draped an arm over his shoulder. The panic in his eyes only made Ryder chuckle.

“Need a drink. Ye want one?” Ryder asked. He looked at Felix before his gaze landed on the tavern owner.

“When have I ever said nay to a free drink?” Felix chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “But I think I’ll go get them.”

“Ye’re nae goin’ anywhere,” the tavern owner growled. Ryder pressed his lips into a tight line, trying to suppress a smile. “Ye have some explainin’ to do.”

“I want nay part of this,” Ryder said, snickering as Felix’s face contorted.

His friend had the look of a man being cornered in a place that was three times too small.

“Apologize,” the tavern owner growled.

“Aye, of course. I’m sorry, truly. I meant nay disrespect. Yer daughter is lovely, and I’m sure she’ll make someone a very fine wife,” Felix blurted.

Ryder made his way to the bar. His smirk widened as he heard his friend try to talk his way out of the trouble he’d gotten himself into. It was just like old times.

How Ryder missed Felix. Out of all the fellows he had met over the years, Felix had been the only one to ever stand by him.

As Ryder navigated the crowd in the tavern, the music tickled his ears. Despite the liveliness of the tune, he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the scene. There were far too many people for his liking, but a crowded place was always the safest to meet, should any scoundrel be lurking around for an easy target.

“What will ye have?” the barkeep asked as he wiped the countertop with a cloth to clear the area for him.

“Need another pitcher of ale,” Ryder requested.

Just when he pulled a few coins from his sporran, he caught an odd scent. Immediately, his back went rigid. Every muscle in his body tensed as he glanced around the tavern.

It couldnae be.

His chest tightened as he scanned the crowd, trying to find the source of the floral scent that had captivated his senses. There was only one woman he knew who smelled of lilac and rosemary.

“Morgana.”

The name came out as a hiss through his gritted teeth as he scanned the faces around him. Only a handful of maids roamed about the tavern, and none of them could even compare to Morgana’s beauty. Still, the scent taunted and teased him more than he would have liked to admit.

Her scent was beyond intoxicating. It was as if it came from the very source of life, and all he wanted to do was drown in it, the consequences be damned.

Ryder closed his eyes and let his nose take the lead.

“Och, sorry,” he huffed when he bumped into someone.

Opening his eyes, he gasped. He blinked once, twice, ensuring that he was not hallucinating, that his mind was not playing a trick on him.

“Morgana?”

The lad before him tried to flee, but Ryder’s fingers curled into his shirt and turned him right back around. Ryder blinked, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Confusion pricked at his mind as he saw not a young boy before him, but Morgana. Yet, she didn’t look like herself. She’d tucked her hair into the jacket, giving the illusion of short hair. But it was the fact that she was wearing trousers that stunned him.

Panic shot through him as he released his tight grip on her collar and snatched her wrist instead. With his patience wire-thin, he marched toward the entrance of the bar, ignoring her protests.

“Let me go,” she hissed.

Ryder tried hard to contain his rage to no avail.

“What the hell do ye think ye’re doin’ here?” he growled.

He looked down the street, hoping no one else recognized a woman dressed as a man.