Page 15 of Taken by the Ruthless Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #6)

15

R yder shifted in his seat as his gaze drifted to the door. Every footstep echoing down the hallway made his heart rate quicken.

He swallowed hard. When did he ever allow a woman to get under his skin in such a manner? Yet here he was, anxious to see her once again and completely at her mercy.

She wouldn’t dare stand him up again. The clock continued to tick, dragging out the evening as if it were a piece of taffy being pulled by the local candy shop.

“Ye told her that dinner was bein’ served, did ye nae?” Ryder asked the servant by the door.

The bowed-legged man gave an apologetic shrug. “Her Ladyship kens what time it is, My Laird. I think she’s makin’ ye wait on purpose,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

Ryder’s eyes narrowed. The idea of being stood up again stirred his irritation. Sure, Morgana had missed dinner with him before, but she had promised she wouldn’t do it again. They had an agreement, after all.

However, unable to stand the wait any longer, Ryder shot to his feet.

“See that the food is kept warm,” he instructed as he made a beeline for the door.

He didn’t know exactly what he was going to say to Morgana that he hadn’t already explained before. The first time she missed dinner was intentional. She was, after all, caring for her siblings. But what excuse would she give him this time? How many times would she use them as an excuse?

Thoughts of betrayal swirled about his head, tossing his resolution from one point to the next as if he were on a ship in the middle of a storm.

Just as he reached for the handle, the door swung open, nearly slamming into him. Morgana gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Ryder arched an eyebrow as he steadied himself, lest he collide with the servant.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, truly,” Morgana said as she reached for him. Her arms wrapped around his waist so tightly that it made him chuckle.

Ryder studied her for a moment. She held him up with steely determination, as if she would topple over should she fail. Ryder shifted and spun her around in a flurry of excitement, before lowering her onto her feet as if nothing had happened.

“And pray tell, what are ye sorry for?” he asked as he made his way back to the table. “Yer tardiness? Or spendin’ the day with Orella? I really dinnae see what ye like about that woman. Granted, she’s a fine healer, but to be enamored of Cohen… I truly pity the lass.”

“Is this how we are to spend our evening? Ye’re plannin’ on insultin’ all the friends I have here?” Morgana snapped, stomping toward her seat.

“Nae all of them—just the ones who irk me,” Ryder answered, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Even though Cohen irked him, it was clear the way it would play out. People would think him a jealous man, and if the servants hadn’t already been walking on eggshells around him, they certainly would be after.

No, he wouldn’t let Morgana’s friendship with Orella bother him.

Let her have companionship… as long as it’s with me.

As evil as the idea was, Ryder savored it. How lovely it would be for Morgana to be only his. Without her siblings taking up her time and without the council harping on about an heir.

The very thought made him want to roll his eyes. But in the back of his mind, he could hear it. A small voice whispering to him about a life he could have if only he’d drop the ruse.

He shook his head, hoping to push the thoughts out. But alas, as he held the chair for Morgana and watched her sit, he felt a powerful urge to claim her. The feeling was purely physical. It could have been the floral scent that wafted to his nose and tormented his senses. Or perhaps it was the way her body shifted and swayed as she sat. How he wanted her to move above him like that.

“Well, perhaps if the Laird would permit me to leave the castle,” Morgana said. Ryder arched an eyebrow at her. “Then I might get a chance to make better friends.”

“Better friends? Like the harlots and brood of vipers that congregate in Lochcairn?”

He knew it was a cheap shot, but he wasn’t going to let the moment pass him by, not when he’d spent the last twenty minutes pining for her.

“I already said I was sorry about that,” Morgana huffed as the servants rushed into the dining room with trays of food.

Ryder’s stomach growled suddenly, making him forget about his grievances. The only thing that mattered now was getting food into his belly.

“Aye,” he answered.

Her agitation piqued his interest. Now he wanted to know not only what had delayed her but also what had gotten her into such a state.

“Worried about yer sister? I wish there was somethin’ that I could tell ye to settle yer nerves, but I’ve heard nothin’. What about ye? Surely, ye’ve heard somethin’ about her, have ye nae?”

The shock on her face was evident. For a moment, Ryder wondered if bringing up Feya was a good idea after all.

Morgana rolled her shoulders back as she pushed the food around on her plate. “I havenae heard a word. And I have nay intentions of goin’ back to Lochcairn. Ye made it quite clear what would happen if ye catch me in that town again. And I’ll tell ye right now, I’ll nae cross that path with ye.”

“Mhm,” Ryder murmured, still uncertain if he could trust her.

As much as he wanted to, there was still something gnawing at him that made him even more suspicious.

“What?” she huffed, shifting in her seat.

Was it pride that seemed to nail her to the spot?

“Nothin’,” Ryder answered, trying to hide his smirk but failing.

Why did he find her so amusing? There was nothing funny about the situation.

Ryder pulled in a quick breath. That was it—annoyance and ire. He couldn’t place those emotions before, but now that he recognized them, they rolled off her like the mist of the ocean crashing against a lighthouse in winter.

“Are ye sure? Because from the moment I stepped into the room, ye’ve had somethin’ against me. So, pray tell, what offense have I caused ye today?”

“Now why unleash yer venom on me? What have I done but open my door? Should I have consulted my crystal ball to figure out how I should answer the door, when it was ye who came late?”

“And there it is,” Morgana scoffed, pushing her plate away. “So yer dinner is a bit colder than usual. Ye ken that there are people out there who need help and that the world doesnae revolve around ye?”

Ryder’s eyebrows shot up as he calmly placed his napkin next to his plate. Every nerve in his body tingled and ached for release. He inhaled deeply, focusing on what vexed him. Morgana’s harsh, unwarranted ire was certainly at the top of his list.

“And this is why I dinnae want ye talkin’ to Orella,” he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I dinnae see what issues ye have with her,” she said. “If ye’d just give her a chance, ye might like her.”

“I doubt it.”

Morgana glared at him. “And why is that?”

“Dinnae get me wrong,” Ryder said as he stabbed his fork into the piping hot chicken breast and lifted the huge chunk to his mouth. “’Tis nae just Orella I doubt, but the lot of them. The whole clan has a tendency to be weary of those they dinnae ken. And all they ken about me is…”

He paused as he stared at her. Her eyes were glassy, as if her attention had been caught by something far away.

He cleared his throat, grateful he hadn’t spilled too much. After all, he was just as much of an outsider as she was. And while he may have attempted to kill his father and failed, by the admission of the clan, she did what he couldn’t.

A part of him found the idea thrilling and exhilarating. Almost as if she were challenging his very nature to be better and do better.

“Why are ye lookin’ at me like that?”

Her question pulled him out of his thoughts. He swallowed hard and went back to the food on his plate.

“I’m sorry, I was just wonderin’ what Feya looked like and if she was anythin’ like ye,” he deflected.

The last thing he needed was to divulge anything more incriminating about him and raise suspicions.

“I suppose that depends on who ye ask. Some will say that she looks a bit like me, others will say that she could be my twin, and a few will say she looks like my daughter.”

“Ye miss her,” Ryder remarked as he bit into his chicken.

The garlicky, buttery flavor burst into his mouth, and he briefly closed his eyes. He’d never tasted such a delectable bird in all his life.

“Ye ken, ye’re very skilled in deflection. I thought we were talkin’ about ye here,” Morgana drawled, a smug smile tugging at her lips.

“And here I thought we were talkin’ about yer sister.”

“Nay,” Morgana said. “We were discussin’ why the people dislike ye and the rumors that swirl around ye like cobwebs. Ye are aware of what people are sayin’, are ye nae?”

“What should it matter what anyone says? These people think they have any sway over what I think? Ha! Fools, the lot of them. They cannae see past the ends of their noses.”

“And what of Nathan? He’s on the council too.”

Ryder shifted and slowly lowered his fork to his plate. He dabbed the corners of his lips with his napkin before turning in his chair to glare at her.

“And what do ye ken about the council? What news would ye think to be important?” He leaned back, his eyes narrowing on her. It was possible that the beauty before him was as poisonous as a viper. “What things have Orella whispered in yer ear to turn ye against me?”

“I’m nae against ye,” Morgana answered, her voice calm and steady. “But there are some worryin’ rumors.”

“And ye’re worried about my past, is that it?” Ryder asked as he folded his arms over his chest. “What did I tell ye? Ye dinnae ask me what I was doin’, who I was with, or where I was. Remember? That was the deal we made. Whatever the servants have to say about me, it doesnae matter.”

“What if the clan saw ye in a better light? Have ye ever given them a reason to like ye? One that is clearly all about them?”

Ryder tilted his head. He wasn’t sure he liked the direction she was steering their conversation, but he would get to what she really wanted.

“Go on,” he prompted, jerking his head. “If ye’re confident ye can get people to forget the last thirty years and trust me, then I’m all ears.”

“What if we throw a cèilidh? We can invite everyone, and maybe Feya will show up.”

Ryder scratched his beard as he considered her suggestion. It wasn’t a bad idea; it could bring the clan together. But he wasn’t about to tell her that right away, for he enjoyed watching her squirm.

“That sounds like a really good idea,” he said, after a drawn-out pause. “I ken a few families that would be pleased to see me married at last. I’ll leave it to ye to sort it out.”

“Really? Ye dinnae mind? And will I have a limit?” Morgana asked, a smirk curving her lips.

Ryder couldn’t help but feel a tingling in the pit of his stomach. His wife could have asked for the whole world, and he would have done anything to give it to her. Her allure was driving him mad.

“Aye, ye’ll have a limit.”

Morgana’s laughter filled the dining room. It sounded like bells to his ears as he contemplated why he adored watching her and giving her what she wanted. What spell had she cast over him to make him want to bend over backward to please her?

His gaze flicked from her smile to her hand, resting next to her plate. How he wanted to reach for it and caress it.

Every second she kept it there was torture. For a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she’d done it on purpose, knowing that he was pining for her.

The thought aggravated him more than it should have.

“Dinnae tell me that ye’ve already changed yer mind about the cèilidh,” Morgana scoffed as she finally stabbed into her chicken and lifted a bite to her mouth.

“Unlike some people, I dinnae change my mind often, if at all. It takes far too much effort to look back and go forward than it does to just move forward,” Ryder answered, trying not to let her heaving bosom distract him too much.

Yet her bare skin taunted him like a tall glass of water on a hot day. He could taste her salty skin on his lips as he fought back the urge to splay her on the table and claim her.

“So, if there are nay regrets, then why the secrets?” she asked.

“Did ye ever think that maybe the rules arenae there for my protection, but yers? Besides, the less ye ken about me, the better it’ll be for ye in the long run. Trust me on that.”

“I’d like to,” Morgana mumbled as she looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I would. But there’s just so much that worries me.”

“And there’s yer problem. These things are none of yer concern. I promised to keep ye safe, and I will. Ye’ve got a roof over yer head, yer family is cared for, and all is well. Nae to mention, tomorrow ye’re plannin’ a party, so what is there to worry about? Yer needs are being met, My Lady.”

“Are yers?” she asked, her voice thick with lust.

Of course, his needs weren’t being met. The woman had barely looked at him since their wedding, and the only reason she was in the room with him now was due to an agreement that bound them for life. Appearances had to be kept.

“Careful,” Ryder warned as he cut another bite of chicken. “Ye may nae want to ken the answer to that question.”