Page 13 of Taken by the Ruthless Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #6)

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R yder bounced his leg, his eyes straying to the door once again. His heart fluttered as he wondered what expression Morgana would have on her face. Would her cheeks still be flushed? Or maybe he’d see a glimpse of the yearning burning deep within her.

“It is our right to ken if there’s an heir on the way,” Nathan droned on in the background.

The only reason Ryder had granted him an audience was to placate the council. Had he known he’d get his ear chewed off, he would have prohibited him from crossing the threshold.

“Aye, I can read and understand the contract better than ye think,” Ryder muttered as he glanced around the man, hoping Morgana would walk in.

How he wanted to caress her smooth, soft skin once again. The night had been complete torture for him. It took every ounce of his strength not to follow her to her room, or claim her in one of the dark rooms or secret nooks scattered about the castle.

“Ye havenae consummated yer marriage yet, have ye?” Nathan asked, arching a suspicious eyebrow.

Ryder let out a dark chuckle and shifted in his seat as he fixed him with a stern look. “I didnae ken ye wanted the bedsheets to be hung out of the window like the heathens do,” he drawled.

“If it pleases the Laird,” Nathan answered, his voice low and raspy. “Doin’ that will put the clansfolk at ease, for they’ll ken that the future of the clan is secure.”

“Ye sound like my faither,” Ryder remarked, his eyes narrowing. “Is that how ye got the position on the council? Did ye weasel yer way into it?”

“Yer faither gave it to me because I am good at what I do,” Nathan shot back, the anger in his voice evident.

Ryder folded his arms over his chest and shot him a glare. “And what exactly do ye do? Because from where I’m standin’, all ye have ever done is hinder my happiness. Yer grievances against my wife are invalid. And I’d thank ye kindly to stop stirrin’ up strife in the clan about the matter. I’ve married Morgana. She’s mine now. What I do with her is none of the council’s business.”

As if on cue, a light rap sounded at the door.

His heart skipped a beat as he turned to the door. There she was, standing like the vision she was. Ryder didn’t have a clue as to how she managed to make the room brighter, but the second she stepped into the study, it was as if she had brought the sun with her.

“Forgive me,” she said, her eyes flicking from him to Nathan and back again.

Her timidness made Ryder want to laugh. Was she nervous to see him so soon? Surely it wasn’t a flush of embarrassment crawling up her cheeks. Not after her defiance and bravery last night.

“I was told ye wanted to see me,” she continued, fiddling with her fingers.

“Aye.” Ryder leaned back in his leather chair. “Would ye be so kind as to inform Nathan here that our marriage is secure and how we are tryin’ for an heir?”

It was a moment of truth. He stared at her, wondering how she’d handle being put on the spot. His chest swelled with pride as she rose to the occasion.

“Did ye want details?” Morgana asked, shifting her gaze to Nathan. “I can tell ye that the Laird’s hands are firm yet as gentle as his kisses. I didnae think to hang out the sheets, as very few people attended the weddin’.”

Pride shot through Ryder like thunder rolling through the valley.

However, Nathan’s brow creased with irritation. With his fists balled at his sides, he stepped aside to let her approach the desk.

“And unfortunately, I dinnae think that’s somethin’ we can replicate,” Morgana said with a wry smile. “But if ye want to call on a healer or a midwife to inspect me…”

“That willnae be necessary,” Nathan hissed, ire radiating from him.

Ryder watched Morgana, gauging her reaction. Would she flinch or stand her ground?

“If there is nothin’ else ye wanted to harass me with, then ye can leave,” he barked.

Though his words were directed at Nathan, it was Morgana who turned around and headed for the door.

“Nae ye. Ye stay. Nathan can take his leave and bury the hatch he keeps holdin’ over yer head.”

Morgana froze at the door. She slowly turned back to face Ryder once more. There was a hint of fear in her eyes.

“I swear to ye, I didnae kill the former Laird McKenzie,” she whispered, her voice barely rising above the crackling and popping of the fire.

“Dinnae think for one moment that I believe ye,” Nathan sneered.

“Enough,” Ryder growled as he rose from his desk and moved around it. Leaning back against the edge, he folded his arms over his chest and fixed Nathan with a cold look, daring him to say another word. “Ye came in here pryin’ about the state of my marriage, and I presented ye my wife, who has confirmed our union. I’ll nae hear another malicious word against her. Yer case against her is finished. Is that clear?”

“I dinnae understand,” Morgana said. “How could ye think I would ever do such a thing? The Laird was a beast, compared to me.”

“And frail,” Nathan interjected. “Everyone kenned that the man could barely hold his goblet up, and yet the night of the weddin’, when he was to consummate the marriage, ye find him dead.”

“Did ye forget the blood on the balcony? Or the fact that everyone had to break down the balcony door to step outside because his body was blockin’ the way? Tell me, please, how could I do that from the wrong side of the door?”

Ryder’s eyes widened. If he ever had a doubt about her, she had just put it to rest. The fact that the doors swung out and she couldn’t open them told him everything he needed to know.

His father was murdered, but it wasn’t the innocent creature standing before him who did it.

A great weight lifted from his shoulders.

Pushing off the desk, Ryder circled Nathan like the prey he was.

“This will be the last time ye accuse my wife of such a crime,” he warned. “She is the lady of this clan, and ye’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.”

“Ye’re makin’ a mistake. She shouldnae be trusted,” Nathan insisted.

But Ryder had heard enough. He grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him to the door. It was clear that no matter the evidence Morgana presented, Nathan would only ever see her as a murderer.

“That is enough,” Ryder snapped. Mustering his strength, he shoved Nathan out of the room and slammed him against the adjacent wall. “Ye’ll nae speak to my wife again. If I find out ye even looked at her the wrong way, I’ll have yer head.”

“My Laird—” Nathan started, but Ryder simply stomped back into the study and slammed the study shut, cutting him off.

“I should have his head for bein’ so disrespectful,” he grumbled as he moved to the fireplace.

“Mercy is always the better choice,” Morgana said.

Her voice rattled him. He hadn’t expected her to be close. He glanced over his shoulder and stared at her hand on his arm. Her touch was searing like coal, but he couldn’t shrug it off. It was a burn that kindled his desires.

“That’s a very Utopian thing to say,” Ryder mumbled. He turned around slowly so as not to startle her. “But sometimes violence must be used.”

“And shovin’ one of yer councilmen out of yer study was the right thing to do?”

“Ye heard him,” Ryder countered. “Or have ye forgotten he was the one who wanted to see ye hang?”

“Is that why ye called me in here? To confront him ?” Morgana asked.

A shadow flashed across her face, rattling him. He shook his head and brushed the loose strands of her hair from her shoulders. How he adored the curve of her neck—so elegant and graceful.

“Nay,” he answered, his voice softening as his eyes drifted over her body.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he envisioned her standing bare before him. A flush rose to her cheeks, making his body stir. Instinctively, he cupped her face in his hand, wishing he was the cause of that flush.

“Then why?” she pressed.

He pulled in a long, deep breath, drinking in her floral scent. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment a bit longer.

Pulling back, he opened his eyes and arched an eyebrow. The pleasantries were over. As much as he wanted to prolong the moment, there was just too much to do.

“I’m havin’ Felix look into yer sister’s whereabouts,” Ryder explained.

He averted his eyes momentarily, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of her cheek on the palm of his hand.

“Oh,” Morgana murmured. The disappointment in her tone pleased him.

“Felix is a stranger to ye, but he is loyal to me. If anyone can find her, it is him. He can track a falcon at dusk,” Ryder said.

“Thank ye,” she answered. “But I dinnae understand why ye’re doin’ this. I’m sure I can find her myself.”

“As entertainin’ as it was for ye to sneak out of the castle last night, I dinnae want that to be a regular occurrence. Nor do I want to constantly worry about my wife and where she’s at. I’d rather have ye here.”

“Ye dinnae trust me, do ye?” Morgana asked, stepping toward him.

There it was, that defiance in her tone. It was the same defiance that struck a chord within him last night. Her willingness to stand up for herself and take what she wanted thrilled him.

“Nay,” he answered. “And I never promised ye I would. But today, ye proved to me that ye can be trusted. Ye lied to a councilman for me. Why?”

“I’m sure the council still wants to tie a noose around my neck,” Morgana scoffed.

“And it’s such a lovely neck.”

“But until the real culprit is caught, everyone believes I did it. Lyin’ was the only way to ensure that I got to see another day,” she continued, batting her long eyelashes.

Ryder’s chest tightened. How she enchanted him.

“And that doesnae bother ye?” he asked, drawing closer to her. His body ached for her. How he wanted to taste her sweetness. “Havin’ to lie?”

“I’m nae a saint. I’m a survivalist, and I’ll do and say anythin’ to keep my head on for as long as I can.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing ye married a laird who happens to like yer head right where it is.”

Ryder raked his fingers through her hair. She didn’t flinch or recoil. She stood before him, staring up at him with a desire he couldn’t ignore much longer.

“So I’ll get to keep it a while longer?” she asked as she pressed the palm of her hand to his chest.

He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth. “If I have anythin’ to say about it, I’ll let ye keep it a bit longer,” he murmured, kissing her knuckles one at a time.

A sharp knock sounded at the door, pulling him out of his daze. He looked up as the door swung open.

“Go away,” he hissed, turning his gaze back to Morgana. “I’m busy.”

“Actually, My Laird, I have come to see Lady McKenzie,” Orella said, a playful smile curling her lips.

“The lady is busy at the moment. Go away,” Ryder grumbled as he tried to pull Morgana deeper into the room.

“I am nae,” she protested. “What is it that ye need, Orella?”

Orella paused in the doorway. “The storeroom needs to be restocked, and I was wonderin’ if ye’d care to help me gather the herbs from the garden. Maybe have Poppy and Eloise come help too?”

“That’s a splendid idea, but what happened to yer husband helpin’ ye?” Morgana asked as she ducked under Ryder’s outstretched arm.

“Seems more pressin’ matters have come up,” she answered.

He couldn’t help but flash her a smirk as she moved to Orella. Their voices and conversation droned on in the background as Ryder’s imagination took flight. She glanced over her shoulder and winked as if to say, Better luck next time . It was a challenge Ryder found himself becoming obsessed with.

Slippery minx. Well, it’s only a matter of time before ye cave, and when ye do, I promise ye’ll wonder why ye waited for so long.