Page 24 of Taken by the Ruthless Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #6)

24

R yder paced the length of his chambers as he tried to figure out if he would rather rip Nathan’s head off or have Cohen stand before the archers. Treachery pricked him and stirred his ire.

“What!” he barked over his shoulder at the pounding on his chamber door. “This better be life and death. I’m in nay mood for company.”

He turned to find Morgana standing on the threshold, her bright, innocent gaze fixed on him. Like a deer standing before him in a glen, frightened yet unaware of the true danger.

He rolled his shoulders back. “I’m in nay mood for company tonight. So, either ye say what’s on yer mind, or leave me be.”

Morgana stood in silence for a moment. It was clear there was a great deal she was sorting through, and Ryder’s harsh response was unwarranted. Her lip quivered as tears pooled in her eyes. Guilt and regret jabbed him like a hot poker.

“I’m sorry,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didnae realize ye were busy.”

“Morgana, please,” Ryder sighed as he moved to her and pulled her into the room.

He found it nearly impossible to kick her out in the state she was in. He hadn’t thought he’d make her cry. In fact, he hadn’t been expecting her at all. Her coming to his chambers suggested nothing but bad news, and he had snapped at her.

His jaw clenched as he resisted the urge to push her away. That was what his father would have done, but he had vowed never to be like him.

Rolling his shoulders back, Ryder stood taller as Morgana moved to the chair by the fire.

“I didnae want to intrude,” she mumbled as he closed the door.

The click of the latch cut through the tension. If only he wasn’t so on edge about Cohen and Nathan. How dare they betray him. Why, he had it in his right mind to take them both out to the gallows and watch them hang.

“Perhaps it’s fate that it was ye who did,” Ryder mumbled.

The confusion on Morgana’s face made him smirk. He shook his head as she shifted in her seat and averted her gaze to the fire. How it killed him to see her turn away from him.

“Why did ye come? I’m sure a fire in any other room is just the same.”

Morgana wiped her cheeks and cleared her throat. Without glancing at him, she muttered, “It’s somethin’ that Orella said.”

Ryder went still. If there was anyone in the castle who could sway Morgana, it was Orella. It wasn’t that she was evil by any means. But Ryder had learned not to trust people who were close to his enemies, and at the moment, Cohen was on that list.

“And how are yer braithers doin’?” he asked, changing the topic in a bid to distract Morgana.

If he had known what he was about to walk into, he never would have opened his mouth.

“Scratches and bruises. Nothin’ I havenae seen them give each other on a random Saturday,” Morgana replied, turning to face him. “But that’s nae why I came here. Orella said that Feya could be held against her will. I mean, we’ve searched everywhere. If she had plans to leave Scotland, we would have received a letter. She would never vanish like this.”

Her words came out in a flurry. There was no doubt in Ryder’s mind that she was struggling to keep her emotions in check. It was the hope in her eyes that stung him the most, though. While it was possible that her sister was being held against her will, Ryder wasn’t going to do anything until he had more information. The last thing he wanted to do was jump to conclusions.

Ryder scratched his beard, considering their options. “Is that all ye have for me? A theory about yer sister?”

Morgana nodded her head as she chewed on her lower lip.

The way the firelight caressed her face was hypnotic and made it nearly impossible for Ryder to keep his thoughts straight. After all, if she looked this lovely with the flames dancing across her face, how much more lovely would she look naked before him?

The thought sent a pleasurable shiver through him. His anger at Nathan and Cohen vanished. The fact that Morgana was able to tame the beast within him was more than proof she wasn’t just any lass—she was made for him.

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “What is it ye want me to do? If ye think I have any right to tear through towns, draggin’ people out of their homes to look for Feya, I dinnae. That’s somethin’ ye’ll have to talk to the council about, and even then I’ll nae allow it. My faither would have done somethin’ just as heinous— I willnae.”

“But what if Orella is right? What if Feya is in the next town over and she’s being held against her will? Or what if she’s in some horrid pit and being forced to do things—” Morgana choked on a sob.

Ryder was at her side in a flash. He crouched down and took her hands in his own.

“Ye cannae live yer life by dreadin’ the impossible,” Ryder said, his brow soft with compassion. “I ken ye’re worried about yer sister. But I believe if she were taken, someone would have sent a ransom letter. People dinnae just kidnap others for nay reason. And if that happened, someone would have seen it.”

“Ye dinnae ken that,” Morgana countered. “Felix and Tormod didnae see their attackers. They were blindsided.”

“Aye,” Ryder relented with a nod. He rose to his feet and turned to the window, staring out into the darkness. “Each attack has come from the sidelines, from places we wouldnae have suspected. Have ye noticed that? Almost like a dance. Ye might be right about yer sister bein’ held against her will. If anyone can find out who is bein’ sold on the market, it’s Felix. The man has his fingers in everythin’ ye can think of and some of the stuff ye cannae.”

“And this is the man ye picked as yer man-at-arms?” Morgana asked, arching a suspicious eyebrow.

“There’s none that match him,” Ryder said. “And ye shouldnae underestimate him either.”

Morgana pulled in a deep breath before slowly rising from her chair. She tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. How Ryder wanted her to stay, but he could read the room.

She glanced at the door as she fiddled with her fingers. Was it possible she was hoping he would ask her to stay?

As much as he wanted to, there were far too many things he had to sort out. After all, he was in no mood to be nice or gentle. If he had his way, he’d take Morgana against the headboard of his bed over and over until the oak cracked.

“I dinnae,” she answered. “But I’m certain ye ken what ye’re doin’. Ye are the Laird, after all.”

“Aye.” Ryder folded his arms over his chest, refusing to be baited into an argument. “And as the Laird, I’m askin’ ye to trust me.”

“I do,” Morgana declared with such conviction that it made his chest swell with pride.

How could he refuse her anything now, when she had honored him in such a way?

“Good,” Ryder said as he moved to her. Heat rolled off her body as he guided her back to the door. “Now, I think ye’ve had a very long day. We both have. I need rest.”

“I understand.”

Her lips curled into a pout. Whether she was doing it on purpose or not, he did not know. She shifted her gaze to the door and trudged toward it with the speed of a snail.

Ryder tried not to chuckle at her antics. The way she was dragging her feet reminded him of a child who didn’t want to go to bed.

“My Lady,” he said, his voice dropping to a seductive baritone. Morgana drew to a halt, her body quivering. “I want ye to have good dreams. Can ye do that for me? Just this night?”

Morgana glanced over her shoulder at him and batted her eyelashes. Her pout stretched into a smirk, and a playful gleam entered her eyes. “I dinnae ken. I suppose I’ll have to dream of ye bringing my sister back to me.”

“And one day, that dream will come true,” Ryder promised as he lured her from the room and had the door all but closed on her as he admired her beauty once more for the evenging.. “But right now, ye need to sleep.”