Page 25 of Taken by the Ruthless Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #6)

25

M organa stared at Ryder’s closed chamber door, befuddled. His placating words and splendid promises only stirred her anger. Balling her hands into tight fists, she turned on her heel and charged down the hallway.

For the life of her, she couldn’t comprehend why Ryder wasn’t doing anything. Why wouldn’t he explain why he wouldn’t go charging into every house and business?

If all that separated her from Feya was a door, she was absolutely determined to find that one door and break it down.

The only problem was that she didn’t know which door she would have to break down, or even what town that door was located in. The only way for her to get any of that information was if she snuck out of the castle again.

Her heart thundered in her ears as a burst of wary courage rippled through her.

“If he’s nae goin’ to do somethin’ to help Feya, then it falls to me,” Morgana whispered to the empty hallway as a plan formed in her head.

It wouldn’t be easy to sneak out of the castle. After her first jaunt to Lochcairn, Ryder had posted a few more guards at the gates. And while Morgana was the lady of the clan, and could just as easily make an excuse to slip past the guards, she understood just how dire the consequences would be if Ryder caught her breaking another one of his rules.

As tempting and alluring as it was to contemplate just what he’d to do her if he caught her, she didn’t want to risk losing the small bit of faith he had put in her.

Still, images of Feya being hog-tied in some dark room, starved, and beaten to the brink of death flashed through her mind. Morgana couldn’t allow herself to believe that her sister could endure harsher abuse. The very idea turned her stomach sour.

“Hold on, Sister,” she whispered as she charged down the hall with purpose.

As she ran through the items she’d need to sneak out of the castle, the patter of little feet caught her ear. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Slowly, Morgana turned around, half expecting to find Ryder standing behind her with a disappointed expression on his face.

However, only silence and void greeted her. She swallowed hard, wondering if maybe it was her guilty conscience playing tricks on her. After all, every step she took went against her husband’s wishes. And as much as it tormented her, she wasn’t going to let her loyalty to him overshadow her loyalty to her family.

Arching an eyebrow, Morgana stared into the darkness. She held her breath and listened. A smirk curled her lips as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Come on out, I ken ye’re in there. I just dinnae ken which one of ye is there,” Morgana said in a sing-song voice.

Poppy poked her head around the corner, her big eyes red-rimmed from crying.

“Och, sweetie, what’s happened? Why are ye nae in bed?” Morgana knelt to scoop up her younger sister.

The child seemed heavier since the last time Morgana had held her in such a manner. Of course, living in the castle, where plentiful food was available, would add weight to anyone.

Morgana felt her heart swell at the idea of her siblings being safe and cared for. Ryder certainly took care of the clan, even if they despised him for it. And that extended to her family.

“I cannae sleep. Eloise said she saw a shadow in the chambers,” Poppy sniffed as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

The poor child looked as if she would keel over at any moment.

Morgana pressed her sister’s head to her shoulder and started down the hallway back to Poppy’s chambers. She hummed a soothing tune, the sound of her voice carrying and dancing along the walls.

They had not even reached the stairs before Poppy was snoring on her shoulder.

“Come along, dear one,” Morgana cooed, making sure her steps were lighter than air.

The last thing she wanted was for Poppy to wake up once more. But at least she would have an alibi if Ryder ever asked where she was. Now, all she had to do was get out of the castle and back in before anyone rose in the morning.

Putting Poppy to bed was as simple as tucking the girl under the blankets and pushing her doll to her chest. Poppy instinctively grabbed the doll and hugged it.

Morgana smiled as she leaned over the child and pressed her lips to her forehead.

“Sleep well, my love,” she whispered, before making her way out of the room.

Tip-toeing back down the hallway, Morgana had finally figured out the route she was going to take out of the castle. It was the only one she was certain wouldn’t be watched. It was also the one closest to Ryder’s room. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be looking out the window as she crept out. But with a cloak and a prayer, Morgana was willing to risk everything to find Feya.

With one thought pushing her onward, she draped her cloak over her shoulders and tucked her locks beneath it. She drew the hood over her head and let out a shaky sigh.

Time was not on her side. The night would only shroud her for so long. If she was going to go, she needed to get out of the castle now.

Her toes barely touched the steps as she raced for the pantry exit. It was there, through the cellar and out the east side of the castle, that she planned her escape. It would spit her right out under Ryder’s balcony, but as long as the moon remained hidden behind the clouds, she had a chance.

Glancing over her shoulder, Morgana wished she could ease the tight knot in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was dread of what Feya might be going through or nervousness for disobeying her husband. Either way, the feeling wasn’t going away, no matter how she spun the story in her head.

She burst into the cellar. The room was as still as a grave, with only a cat lying on the table. The creature looked up at her with the most pitiful yawn before lowering its head to its paws, as if it had no care in the world. Its calm was a balm to Morgana’s weary soul.

She let out the breath she had been holding in and rolled her shoulders back.

“What am I doin’?” she whispered, her hand on the knob.

Her heart was racing madly in her chest. She glanced over her shoulder, hesitating.

The fact that she was struggling with the idea only frustrated her further. If she had been married to any other man, she would have raced out the door in a flash. So why then did it matter to her that she was breaking her vow to Ryder?

It was as if her loyalty compass had shifted to a different north. Instead of the needle constantly pointing to her family, it was now pointing to Ryder.

“I’m sorry, I have to,” she mumbled and pulled open the door.

Fresh air drifted in, her kissing her nose and cheeks. It soothed her hot flesh as she stepped out into the night.

Closing her eyes, Morgana savored the moment. A stillness surrounded her, giving her a blanket of peace. But the sound of booted steps over her head snapped her back to reality. Her heart sank into her stomach as fear tightened around her throat, threatening to choke the life out of her.

Her eyes flicked to the balcony.

Ryder.

There were only two options she could think of. She could make a break for the corner of the castle, hoping he wasn’t paying attention, or she could admit defeat and march back up to her chambers.

Morgana pressed her lips into a tight line.

“Och! Now, who are ye?” a voice called from behind her, startling her.

Morgana glanced over her shoulder to find the cook coming in. Had the cat tipped her off?

She didn’t have time to find out. She bolted, taking her chances with the open field and the safety of the trees in the distance.

“Now, come back here. What do ye think ye’re doin’?”

The cook’s voice shattered the tranquility of the night. Morgana cast a glance over her shoulder, praying that no one pursuing her.

As if she could be so lucky.

Despite the head start, Morgana was no match for the guard chasing after her through the night. Surely Ryder would have a few things to say to her back at the castle. But only if she got caught.

With a new sense of determination, Morgana ran until the muscles in her legs burned. Her skirts whipped around her ankles, threatening to trip her.

It didn’t take long for her steps to slow down, feeling as if she were trekking through mud. Despair came over her as she realized she had miscalculated the distance to the trees. There was no way she was going to reach them before the guard caught up to her.

Her sides ached, forcing her to bend over her knees. The air wasn’t coming in the way she needed it.

“Ye’ll stop, or so help me, I’ll run my blade through yer heart.”

It was Ryder’s voice, his threat, and she knew better than to test him. She dropped to the ground in defeat and pushed her hood off her head. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she caught a glimpse of her husband’s approaching figure.

Ryder’s eyes widened as he skidded to a stop.

“Morgana? But…” Realization dawned on him in an instant, shifting his mood and stance. “Ye were goin’ to Lochcairn. And do yerself a favor”—he snatched her by the wrist, forcing her to her feet—“dinnae lie to me.”

“Aye,” Morgana panted as her knees buckled. She had no strength left to spare, nothing to remain on her feet. She had used up everything she had to escape. “I was goin’ to Lochcairn.”

She didn’t have to look up to feel the rage oozing off Ryder. His searing gaze bored into her.

She licked her dry lips as her eyes flicked to his. There, in their depths, she spotted something she had not expected—longing. It burned like an inferno, consuming the anger she had stirred within him.

“Why?” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Why must ye disobey me? Did I nae tell ye there would be consequences to such actions?”

“Ye did,” Morgana answered, keeping her voice as low and sweet as she could.

Ryder’s lips parted. There was a war raging inside him, and she could see it spilling over. His breath hitched as his gaze drifted from her eyes to her heaving bosom.

And as his eyes darkened, she gathered her courage and asked, “So what will it be, My Laird? Hot oil or the rack?”