Page 86 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander

“Last time I saw him, he was off with the Laird.”

“I do wish the two of them would mend their relationship and be at peace,” Morgana said as she exchanged her juice for something stronger.

“Do ye nae ken what Ryder did? He was banished for attemptin’ to kill his faither,” Orella whispered. “Ryder should have stayed away and never come back. And now…”

Morgana’s heart sank. She watched Orella’s hands tremble as she attempted to take a sip. The lies pricked her like needles against her skin.

“What? Is Ryder’s life in danger?” she asked.

She could barely get the words out as panic ripped through her, knocking the breath out of her lungs.

“Nay,” Orella answered, her eyes glossing over. She gave a lopsided smile, as if she had one too many.

“Orella, where is Cohen? I think he needs to get ye back home now,” Morgana said.

Orella swayed once, then crumpled to the ground. Instinctively, Morgana’s arms shot out, ready to catch her.

“Oh my.”

“Orella?” Cohen’s voice gasped behind them.

Morgana whipped her head around and breathed a sigh of relief to see him right there.

“What happened?”

“I think she had too much to drink,” Morgana explained. “She was coherent one moment and then started ramblin’ the next.”

“What?” Cohen blurted, his voice high-pitched with worry as he looked at a motionless Orella . “What did she say?”

“Nothin’ that made sense,” Morgana said.

Cohen lifted Orella into his arms. “Would ye mind terribly if ye came with us? Just to the carriage, in case I need extra help with her. She may look light, but she’s a handful.”

Morgana glanced back at the party. It seemed everyone was smiling and carrying on, as if her friend had not just fainted.

“Morgana?” Ryder’s strong voice cracked like thunder behind her.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as a tingle raced from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

She turned to face him, hoping the flush on her cheeks wouldn’t give her away. She was thrilled to see him right when she needed him.

“What is this?” he asked, glaring at Cohen.

The air between the men crackled with tension. Morgana was certain that if Orella did not need assistance, the two would have come to blows.

“And what are ye doin’ here? I thought I made myself clear at our last meeting.”

30

“Ryder.”

His name lingered in the air between them.

Ryder’s gaze flicked from Orella’s unconscious form to Morgana’s shocked expression, before it fell on Cohen. Anger simmered under his skin as he arched an eyebrow, daring the man to talk himself out of this mess.

“Laird McKenzie,” Cohen greeted, straining under the weight of his unconscious wife. “I would have greeted ye properly if my hands werenae so full. But as ye can see, my wife has outdone herself this evenin’. I think she hit the bottle a bit too hard, and it’s time for me to take her home.”

“Aye, ye do that,” Ryder growled, fixing him with a glare.