Page 28 of Taken by the Ruthless Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #6)

28

“W hat was I thinkin’?” Ryder mumbled to himself as he paced the length of his study.

He ran his fingers through his hair as images of Morgana lying naked beneath him flashed through his mind. The fact that he let himself lose control bothered him. After all, had he not vowed never to touch her? Was that the reason she was so irresistible?

Troubled by his thoughts, he paced back and forth. He didn’t know what to do about his wife. Now that he had her, he couldn’t just let her go.

She had become a need, something he couldn’t live without. Even trying to go one day without seeing her lovely smile or stunning figure drove him mad. It was impossible, and with her scent lingering in his nostrils, there was no escaping her.

A sharp knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

Ryder straightened to his full height and cleared his throat.

“Enter,” he called, his voice raspy.

He was in no mood for company at the moment—least of all Cohen’s company.

If he had crossed paths with the man any other time, ire and venom would have spouted from his lips. But Ryder wasn’t in his right mind at the moment. He was too busy coming to grips with the consequences of what he had done with his wife. Would she become clingy? Or would he become so needy that he’d start stalking her?

“My Laird, there is a matter I would like to discuss with ye,” Cohen said, stepping into the study. His nasal voice grated on Ryder’s nerves.

Ryder rounded his desk and plopped down in his leather chair. It moaned under his weight as he leaned back against the firm cushion.

“I’ve come as a council member to negotiate?—”

“If ye’ve come to talk about Nathan, save yer breath. I dinnae want to hear one word about it,” Ryder hissed as he watched Cohen inch closer to his desk. “Ye let him out. Ye released a man against my wishes. That’s treason.”

“Ye want to talk to me about treason?” Cohen sneered as he traced a finger across the aged oak desk.

Ryder remembered the first time he had seen that desk. The surface had been shinier and smoother, without the scratches and dents in it now. In his youth, he used to sneak into the study and pretend to work behind that desk like his father—like the Laird . But now that he was older, he realized it was never the desk that people respected, but the one who sat behind it.

“By all accounts, ye shouldnae even be behind that desk,” Cohen growled. “Ye were banished. Cast out like the garbage ye are.”

“Aye, ye dinnae have to give me a history lesson,” Ryder drawled as he steepled his fingers.

His hatred for the man simmered beneath his skin. He was twitching like a predator lurking in the bushes, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

The only problem was that Ryder wasn’t the only hunter in the area. Cohen was clever. He would never have become his father’s man-at-arms if he was a coward or weak man.

But if there was one thing Ryder had learned, it was to never underestimate the man.

“Good, because I would hate to have ye repeat it,” Cohen said, his eyes narrowing. “Ye may hold the title, but I hold the power. The men ye think are loyal to ye bend the knee to me . Now, I’m goin’ to make this clear and use simple words so that ye can understand. Nathan wasnae the one who went against the clan; ye were. And if ye continue to put yer wants above the needs of the clan, dinnae think for a second that the council willnae knock ye off yer high horse.”

“That sounds like a threat…”

Ryder took a moment to remember where he had put his weapons. If Cohen decided to strike, he would have to quickly dart for the dirk under the side table. Or maybe he would lunge for the swords above the mantelpiece. Either way, his mind was racing with various ways this exchange could end.

“Well, ye would certainly ken when ye hear one.” Cohen fiddled with the paperweight on the desk for a brief moment. “And it’s one that will only get louder. But mark my words, boy—the only reason ye’re still breathin’ is because I allow it.”

“Is that so? Then why nae dispose of me then, Ye wanted to, and daenae say ye dinnae. So. Get it over with. I’d rather die on my feet than drag this out a moment longer,” Ryder bit out, his body tensing, bracing for a fight. “And let me remind ye that I never asked to be Laird. If I had my way, this whole lot of land would be burned and salted so that nothin’ could ever grow out of it. The soil has been tainted with the blood of my maither, and it is as barren as my grave.”

“Because yer faither saw somethin’ in ye.” Cohen looked him up and down. “He saw in ye the makings of a great leader. I followed him till the day he died and swore that I’d serve the next Laird with the same loyalty.”

“Aye, but ye dinnae, do ye? Ye cannae stand the fact that I’m the Laird, that it was me the title went to. Or were ye hopin’ to assume the lairdship while I was in exile? Is that why ye’re spittin’ yer venom on me?”

“Ye tried to murder yer faither,” Cohen snapped.

In that instant, the man Ryder had known disappeared, only to be replaced by a demon. His face contorted with pure rage as he slammed his fist on the desk.

“He deserved it, and I would have succeeded if it hadnae been for ye,” Ryder replied with just as much vitriol.

Cohen’s thin, wrinkled lips curled at the corners as malice flashed in his eyes. “There it is,” he jeered. “Yer true nature comin’ out for all to see. It’s a pity Morgana isnae here to see it for herself. Then, maybe ye’d fall from that pedestal she has put ye on.”

“Leave her out of this,” Ryder hissed.

“Oh, have I hit a nerve?” Cohen smirked. “Does she ken who ye really are? That ye’re a monster? I bet if she kenned the real ye, she would have run as far from ye as she could and never looked back.”

“Get out,” Ryder hissed, his fingers itching to curl around his dirk.

“It must hurt to ken that she can never be with someone like ye,” Cohen tossed over his shoulder as he walked to the door.

“And it will scorn ye to ken that we’ve consummated our marriage,” Ryder retorted, pride lacing every word. “Morgana is and will forever be Lady McKenzie.”

Cohen’s eyes narrowed as his lips pressed into a tight line. There was no hiding his rage this time. It was as if Ryder had stabbed him and watched him bleed out right there on the bear skin rug.

“Ye’re lyin’,” he hissed. “But it matters nae. I kenned Morgana well before ye laid eyes on her.”

“Give me a reason to kill ye,” Ryder bit out. “Ye think I have forgotten yer role, but I have nae.”

“By yer account, I’m the traitor and should be put to death. But here I am,” Cohen said with a smirk Ryder wished he could wipe off. “Still breathin’.”

“That can be remedied.” Ryder lunged at him.

Cohen darted for the door just as it flew open. It slammed into his face, making him stagger backward.

Felix stepped into the study, his eyes darting between them.

“Now, what is goin’ on in here?” he asked.

Ryder smoothed his hands down his kilt, composing himself. Although he hadn’t been the one to deliver the blow, it pleased him to see the blood trickling from Cohen’s nose.

“Cohen was just leavin’,” he answered. He grabbed a stunned and injured Cohen by the collar and shoved him out of the study. “And Cohen, if ye go near my wife, I will see yer head on a spike.”

Cohen snickered as he turned and stormed down the hallway.

Ryder’s rage flared anew, making it impossible for him to see straight. He wanted to break something. The fact that he let Cohen get under his skin irked him, but the gleam in the bastard’s eyes when he spoke of Morgana… it felt as if a load of lumber had been dropped on the inferno already raging within him.

“What did I just walk into?” Felix asked. “I just came to tell ye that Tormod and I are headin’ out again. We’re goin’ to Inverness.”

“That’s a journey,” Ryder remarked, trying to focus on his friend.

What if Cohen went scurrying to Morgana’s chambers? The thought drove him insane .

Should he rush to her room? Or should he trust her to dismiss the bastard?

“Aye, ye still want us to look for the girl, do ye nae?” he heard Felix ask.

Ryder looked up at him and nodded his head. “Morgana needs her sister back…” he trailed off as Morgana’s plea to be reunited with her sister came back to haunt him.

He stroked the tip of his beard as he started pacing the room.

“I ken that look.” Felix folded his arms over his chest and shifted into the stance of a warrior, ready and poised for battle. “Talk to me.”

Ryder cast a glance at him. “It’s somethin’ Orella told Morgana.”

“Aye?” Felix prompted when he fell silent.

“Orella told Morgana that Feya could have been kidnapped, which is why nay one has seen her anywhere,” Ryder began, his chest tightening. “And now Cohen comes in here, tryin’ to convince me to show Nathan mercy.”

“And what are ye plannin’ to do about that? The castle is already whisperin’ about how ye havenae done a thing to clear yer name over the death of the previous laird, and now some are even sayin’ that Lady McKenzie has taken a lover.”

The news stunned Ryder into silence. There was no hiding the grin that pulled at his lips. “A lover ye say?”

“Aye, the servants said they saw Her Ladyship with her dress barely clinging to her body, her hair a mess, gigglin’ as she ran down the corridor last night.”

Ryder choked on his chuckle. He didn’t want to be thinking of Morgana at the moment or how fantastic she looked and felt last night. No. He wanted to be outraged and irked. He wanted to feel hell’s inferno raging within him. But just the thought of Morgana’s tender lips on his quelled the flames.

“Wait, was that ye? Ye scoundrel, have ye finally bedded yer wife?” Felix asked, a wicked grin stretching across his face. “I’ve got to say, it’s about time. Just say the word and I’ll have the castle eagerly awaitin’ the arrival of a wee one.”

Ryder’s eyes widened as he contemplated the idea, and then he nodded. “Do it.”

“With pleasure. But am I still leavin’ for Inverness? Or would ye rather have me around here?”

Ryder rubbed his temples and let out a heavy sigh. “Stay, but dinnae make it seem like yer mission to find Feya is over—just delayed for the day. Ye can use Morgana’s cèilidh as an excuse. I think she may be on to somethin’ here about Feya bein’ closer than we think, and yer leavin’ could just be another wild goose chase.”

“Ye’re puttin’ a lot of stock in a theory yer wife told ye,” Felix remarked.

Ryder returned to the desk and sat down. The knot in his stomach wouldn’t ease. If anything, it only twisted tighter.

“Somethin’ just doesnae seem right. Stay close to the castle. I’d hate it if this rumor turns out to be true. But I’d rather be safe than sorry.”