Page 54 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander

“Promise?” Eloise pointed her little finger at Morgana in warning.

“Aye, I promise. Now, go.” Morgana laughed as she watched her dart out of the kitchen.

“Ye’re the new Lady McKenzie, arenae ye?” a voice called from the corner of the room.

Morgana tilted her head as she watched a woman with wiry gray hair step out from behind a storage shelf. “I am,” she answered.

“And are ye cookin’ for the Laird?” the maid asked.

Morgana felt the eyes of the servants boring into her as if they could drill through all her secrets.

“Nay,” she answered truthfully. “A picnic for my family. Why should it matter who I am cookin’ for?”

The maid looked a bit sheepish as she swallowed hard. Her gaze darted to the other servants as if they had the answer she so desperately needed.

Morgana cleared her throat, drawing the maid’s attention. “Are ye well? Or should I have the healer come see ye?” she asked, growing concerned.

“Nay,” the maid answered, stepping back from Morgana as if she had the plague.

It was clear from the fear in her eyes that there was more she wanted to tell Morgana. But then she turned around the second Poppy and Eloise walked into the kitchen.

“Found her!” Poppy exclaimed.

Morgana tried not to let her gaze linger on the maid for too long. It broke her heart to see how wary the clansfolk were of Ryder. He wasn’t the beast everyone made him out to be. At least not to her. And she was hell-bent on proving to everyone that he was a good man and an even better laird.

“Morgana,” Eloise squealed, throwing her arms around her sister’s legs. “Poppy said ye were makin’ meat pies.”

“And ye are just in time to help,” Morgana said, trying to push out the dark shadow lingering in the back of her mind. “I need ye to help make somethin’ for all of us to share today. Think ye can help?”

Eloise flashed her a grin. “What do ye think? Now, where’s the flour? Ronnie likes his meat pies on the done side.”

17

“I’ll nae repeat myself,” Ryder said, trying to keep his voice even and steady. “Now, I understand ye have an issue with my wife. But I’ll nae have ye speakin’ ill of her all around the castle. Ye’re a member of the council merely because my faither gave ye the position. But make nay mistake, whatever venom ye’re spewin’ into people’s ears about Morgana or any of her relatives will come back to me. And I’ll ken that it all came from ye. And who, then, do ye suppose will be swingin’ from the noose at the front gate?”

He glared at Nathan.

The gleam in the man’s eyes unsettled him. Maybe it was a faint memory of his father that had come back to haunt him.

Still, Ryder rolled his shoulders back and studied Nathan, gauging his reaction.

“Ye’re the Laird,” Nathan gritted out.

The audacity of him charging in, thinking he could challenge his master’s ruling, made Ryder’s blood boil.

“Aye, and the next time ye forget it, I promise it’ll be yer head,” Ryder growled. “Now, get out. I dinnae want to see yer face for the rest of the evenin’.”

“The council is meetin’ tonight. Ye’re to be there as well. Are ye tellin’ me to miss the most important vote? I willnae stand aside and let ye run the clan into the ground. Ye cannae keep me from votin’ tonight. My voice willbeheard,” Nathan contested.

“Then ye’ll find yerself in my dungeons until ye realize that I’m in control now, nae my faither. And from what I’ve gathered, Morgana was barely married to my faither before his untimely death.”

“She killed him,” Nathan hissed.

“What did I say about spewin’ such lies in my presence? Guards!” Ryder bellowed.

Two men burst through the door, arms at the ready for whatever malice or mayhem they could be walking into.

“Take the councilman to the dungeons. He needs to spend time recallin’ where his loyalties lie. And dinnae worry about the vote—I’m certain Cohen will make sure that yer vote is counted.”