Page 11 of Taken by the Ruthless Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #6)

11

“L ook at ye, bein’ all sentimental,” Felix teased as he slammed his mug against Ryder’s before taking a long swig. “And here I thought ye didnae care a lick about that old man.”

“How I feel about my faither has nay bearin’ on this situation,” Ryder said.

“Seems to me it does. Or did ye nae just tell me ye married yer faither’s murderer? And here I thought ye’d lost yer marbles and I’d have to put ye out of yer misery,” Felix snorted.

Ryder watched as Felix’s attention shifted to the barmaid prancing around the room with her jugs of whiskey and ale. There was no doubt she was a pretty thing, but she did not hold a candle to Morgana.

“If ye saw the lass, ye’d understand why there’s nay way she killed him,” Ryder explained as he took a swig of his drink and leaned back.

“Poison is a woman’s knife,” Felix said. “What makes ye think she didnae do that first and then took a blade to him? Yer faither was a big man, after all.”

“I heard these same arguments from the council. I hoped ye’d shed new light on the situation. Or at the very least come back to the castle and help me sort this mess out,” Ryder sighed.

“I doubt the man-at-arms would be keen to be knocked down a peg or two,” Felix retorted.

“I dinnae care what he thinks. Cohen was loyal to my faither, nae to me. And even if I were to call a meetin’, everyone in the castle would bend the knee rather than take up arms. There arenae enough men to go against me, but the winds are changin’. I dinnae ken how much longer I have. I feel like I’m losin’ control over my castle.”

Ryder dropped his shoulders and let out a heavy sigh. His thoughts skipped and raced around Morgana and his father’s murder while he wrestled with the fact that Morgana was starting to get under his skin.

Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? It was as if she had a knack for weaseling into his thoughts and shifting his mood.

“Well, good thing ye came to me then,” Felix said with a hearty chuckle as he threw his arm over Ryder’s shoulder. “As long as ye’re certain ye want to bring me on board. Ye ken I’ll do anythin’ for ye. Ye’re like a braither to me, Ryder. Ye call and I’ll come runnin’.”

Ryder’s heart swelled just a bit. It was a relief to know that if the world burned down, at least there was someone who would stand by his side.

Felix raised his mug in a toast and drained it. Slamming the mug down barely drew an eye to their table. The tavern was livelier than Ryder had expected, but the noise kept their conversation private.

“I wish I didnae have to ask for yer help, but I dinnae see how I’m goin’ to be able to stay in power with so many people goin’ against me. I kenned that steppin’ into my faither’s place would be rough, but I never expected it would be so bad.”

“Come now, bein’ Laird cannae be that bad,” Felix said, rolling his eyes. “Or was it pity ye wanted? Because if that’s what ye’re lookin’ for, ye might as well get the barmaid to come and sit on yer lap and weep into her bosom.”

Ryder shook his head. Although the idea of having his face buried in a soft, warm bosom was inviting, it wasn’t Morgana’s bosom or company he’d have. “Nae my type.”

Felix’s eyes widened to the size of saucers as he sat straighter. “What are ye talkin’ about? Look at her. She’s exactly yer type. Long brown wavy hair that’s nae too curly or too straight. She’s got curves on her, but she willnae be a handful if ye catch my meaning.”

“I’m a married man,” Ryder stated plainly, and with such conviction that he did not miss the shock on Felix’s face.

“Since when does that stop anyone from havin’ a spot of fun? Besides, where is the lass? Back home, right? In the castle, managin’ the affairs there while ye are here, free to do as ye wish,” Felix taunted as he raised his mug to call the maid over to their table.

“I’ll nae be tempted,” Ryder said. “I made an oath, and I’ll nae break it. But if ye want, have a go. But I doubt her faither will like ye rompin’ with his daughter in the haystacks.”

“Ha! Ye say that as if he’d ever catch me,” Felix scoffed. “I could bed her without her faither even kennin’.”

“Dinnae be so sure,” a husky voice rumbled behind Ryder.

The warning was stern and sudden. The color drained from Felix’s face as he turned to face the tavern’s owner.

The heavy man with a long, wiry beard and beady eyes glared at him. “That’s my daughter ye’re talkin’ about there.”

“And what a lovely lady she is,” Felix offered, trying to defuse the situation.

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.

Pulling her into the darkest corner he could find, he spun her around to face him. Giving her a once-over, he couldn’t help but be somewhat impressed with her ingenuity. She certainly looked the part of a man, better than she played it.

“Let me go,” she grumbled as she tried to wrench her hand from his grip.

“Explain what it is ye think ye’re doin’ here? Ye came to spy on me? Is that it? Yer jealousy and curiosity are goin’ get ye into trouble,” Ryder snarled.

For a moment, he was grateful for the trouble Felix had landed himself in, even if it meant he’d be banned from the tavern for a while.

“Me? What are ye doin’ here?” Morgana retorted as her back hit into the side of the tavern.

Ryder towered over her, refusing to give her an inch. Had she come to spy on him? There was no other reason anyone would want to come to Lochcairn except to make unsavory deals with unsavory people.

“I’m the one askin’ the questions here. Is this how ye did it, then? And here I thought ye were innocent. I’m nae easily fooled, so well done,” Ryder growled.

He hated the fact that she was there. But even more so, he hated the reason why she was there. Had she been following him since he left the castle? He was certain he’d taken the longer route to discourage such things, but no one could deter a woman scorned.

“What?” Morgana’s eyes widened as she glanced around, no doubt looking for a way out or her accomplice.

A tingle snaked up Ryder’s spine, and he glanced over his shoulder. There was a shadow growing in the back of his mind as he waited for someone to jump out and rescue her.

“What are ye on about?”

“What are ye doin’ here? Tryin’ to hire someone to get rid of me too?” he hissed as he grabbed her waist.

Her eyes widened at the warmth of his touch. The thrill of the moment flooded through Ryder as he studied her.

“I dinnae understand…”

“I’m nae playin’ a game with ye, Morgana. Now, tell me exactly what ye’re doin’ here in Lochcairn, or I’ll drag ye straight to the council and have ye hanged tonight.”

The color drained from her face as her body went limp.

Ryder had not been expecting that. It was as if all the happiness and love had disappeared from the world. As much as he wanted to take back his words, it was far too late. What was said was said.

He watched as she reached into her shirt and pulled out a letter, before she handed it to him without uttering a word.

“What is this?” he huffed, realizing he’d already crossed a line.

She had disengaged from the conversation. Her eyes had glossed over. There was no salvaging the situation. From her reaction alone, she was innocent, and he’d put on her the blame the council was willing to hang her with.

“A letter,” she mumbled. “From my braither.”

Ryder’s eyes narrowed as he took the letter from her. He unfolded it and scanned its contents. By all accounts, it was from her brother, but it still gave no reason to leave the castle.

He glared at her for a moment, but her expression hadn’t changed. Clearly, there was something he was missing.

He turned his attention to the letter once again. Upon closer inspection, he put together the hidden message in it.

“Feya? I’ve heard ye mention her a time or two. And why should I care who the lass is?” he asked, his voice softening.

Morgana wasn’t there to spy on him. And it became very obvious that she never would have seen him had he not pulled her aside.

“My sister,” she answered. “I fear she is missin’. We havenae heard from her in months. Tormod was supposed to meet up with her, but as ye can read for yerself, she didnae show up.”

Ryder arched an eyebrow as he pulled in a long, deep breath. “I wish ye didnae come. This town is far too dangerous for someone like ye.”

“I can handle myself, thank ye,” Morgana huffed.

“I’m sure ye can,” Ryder said, trying to mask his smirk. “But ye shouldnae have come here. If ye needed help, ye should have come to me in my study. There are far too many ears around here that dinnae need to ken our business.”