Page 34 of Taken by the Ruthless Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #6)

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“H ow much further?” Morgana called over her shoulder, hoping her voice carried over the roaring wind.

“We’re almost there,” Cohen murmured into her ear.

Heat of embarrassment flooded Morgana as she recoiled from Cohen. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to be seductive as he raked his teeth over her earlobe, but he was certainly being creepy.

“Ye see that cottage on the hill?”

“Aye,” she uttered.

Suddenly, the heavens opened.

For a moment, Morgana felt as if the ocean had poured over their heads. Thunder clapped overhead, rattling her insides. She felt Cohen’s arms tighten around her as if to reassure her that everything was fine.

The horse galloped faster as if sensing the approaching storm. Morgana and Cohen arrived at the cottage shortly after, taking refuge under the small lean-to.

“Feya?” Morgana called the second they drew to a stop.

She slid down from the horse, her boots squelching on the muddy ground.

“Get inside, I’ll tether the horse,” Cohen said with a wave of his hand.

Morgana didn’t hesitate. She charged through the slop and muck, scrambling for the porch. Every step was a struggle, as if the very ground was trying to swallow her whole. Pulling one foot out of the mud at a time, she finally reached the landing.

“Feya!” Her voice barely carried over the crack of thunder.

An icy finger trailed down her back, causing the hairs on the nape of her neck to stand on end. The world shrank to a single moment as terror seized her, rooting her to the spot. She glanced back at the lean-to, a question niggling at her mind.

Where was Cohen? It should not take him this long.

A commotion in the cottage pulled her out of her thoughts. She watched her breath plume before her as she slowly approached the door. Through the crack, she spotted the flicker of candlelight and the soft glow of a warm fire. But it was the sight of the figure in the chair that kicked her into action.

“Feya!” Morgana cried as she burst through the door.

Her heart sank when she noticed that her sister hadn’t moved. The room was far too still and devoid of life. If it weren’t for the fire popping in the hearth, she would have thought this place was abandoned.

“Feya?”

Mustering all her courage, she approached her sister and reached out her hand. She swallowed hard, half expecting to feel a stiff corpse rather than warmth and life.

Clinging to the hope that perhaps Feya was merely resting from a tiring journey, she placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Sister?”

“Forgive me.”

Before Morgana could recoil, fingers curled around her wrist, pulling her down over the chair.

“What in the…? Feya, wake up! What are ye doin’? It’s me, Morgana.”

Morgana twisted and squirmed, trying to free herself to no avail. It took but a moment for her to realize that it wasn’t her sister attacking her, but someone else.

Panic set in as a foul-smelling white cloth was shover over her face. Morgana shook her head, desperately trying not to breathe in.

“It’ll be over quickly. Just, please, stop strugglin’.”

The voice was faint but familiar, and it reverberated through Morgana like a church bell summoning sinners to church. Ice flowed through her veins as she tried to wrap her head around why Orella would ever do anything like this.

“Orella? Why?”

“I told ye to restrain her,” Cohen barked as he entered. Morgana glanced over at him, furrowing her brow. “I even showed ye how to do it.”

He marched over to the chair, snatching the cloth from his wife’s hands before tossing it into the fire. Heat filled the room, and for a moment, Morgana wondered if the whole cottage had gone up in flames.

Then, Cohen stomped toward his wife and shoved her away.

“What are ye doin’?” Orella gasped.

“Ye think I dinnae ken what yer plan was, wife?” Cohen bit out.

“What is goin’ on here?” Morgana asked as she darted to the corner of the room, uncertain who she could trust.

“Morgana,” Orella whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. “He made me come here. He said it was the only way for us to make money.”

“What?” Morgana gulped, her gaze flicking to Cohen.

“She’s lyin’. That’s all she ever does—lie. Tell her, wife. What was on that cloth? Tell her what it would have done to her,” Cohen growled.

He grabbed Orella by the arm and tossed her to the floor like a ragdoll.

Morgana glanced at the window, only to find it sealed. As she scanned the cottage, it became clear that this was a trap set not for her sister, but for her.

“She was never here, was she?” she choked out as she started for the door.

Cohen jumped in front of her, blocking the only exit.

“Ye would leave yer sister’s murderer alive?” he asked. “Do ye nae see?”

“What? I’ve never—” Orella gasped, lunging at him in a fit of rage.

But she was no match for him, and she was too enraged to see the trap she had walked into.

Morgana clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her scream when Cohen wrapped his fingers around his wife’s neck.

“Ye are but a reed in my hands,” he gritted out. “This is the second time ye’ve tried to take my life, wife. I grow weary of yer antics.”

“Cohen, please,” Morgana whimpered, watching helplessly as Orella’s eyes fluttered.

“She has to die for what she has done,” Cohen growled. “It was because of her that ye were accused of the Laird’s death.”

“I forgive her,” Morgana blurted, hoping that by showing compassion, he would extend grace and mercy.

Morgana’s heart pounded wildly in her chest as she watched the color return to his knuckles.

Orella crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

“By all accounts, she should be dead,” Cohen hissed, rolling his shoulders back as he towered over her. “Say the word and I’ll do it.”

Morgana shook her head. “I would never have ye kill for me.”

She glanced at the door, wondering if she’d be able to escape now that he was distracted. But any sudden movement would only set him off. And after what she had seen him do to his wife, she wasn’t about to get on his bad side.

“But I would,” Cohen said with a manic smile that stretched from ear to ear. “Oh, the things I would do for ye, Morgana. I’d walk through Hell for ye.”

“If that’s the case, then why did ye bring me out here? Where’s my sister?” Morgana asked, inching closer to the door.

“Aye, well, that was a lie,” Cohen admitted, turning his head to her. “But I had to get ye out here for this. Ye had to see that I would turn on even my wife for ye.”

Morgana froze as his eyes landed on her. She wondered if he could read her intention to escape. With the door only a few steps away, she fought the urge to race for it, knowing he was faster and stronger.

“Ye’re nae listenin’,” Morgana said. “I would never betray my husband.”

“I ken,” Cohen muttered.

Her heart stuttered as he took a step toward her, then another, then another, stalking toward her like a predator.

“That’s why I would never ask ye to. But forgive me, I thought I could resist temptation. I thought havin’ ye here…” He stopped before her and raised a hand.

His fingertips grazed her shoulder. It was as if he had cut off a slice of an iceberg and raked it down her spine like a pick axe. She tried not to quake under his touch, so as not to give him the wrong idea, but the goosebumps rising over her skin betrayed her.

Cohen’s lips curled into a leery smile.

“Ye make it nearly impossible to be a gentleman around ye,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair.

“Yer wife,” Morgana blurted when he leaned in for a kiss.

His eyes narrowed as he paused inches from her mouth. “Dead if she kens what’s good for her. And yer husband will follow soon enough, and then ye can bet I’m goin’ to ravish every inch of yer body,” he purred.

“I would never let ye,” Morgana growled, her rage flaring as news of her friend’s death crashed down on her. She struggled against Cohen’s grip wishing to get close to see for herself if what he said was true. But it was no use, Cohen had her and if she had any choice in the matter, she knew how she’d want it to end. “I’d rather be dead.”

Cohen’s fingers found her throat. A sickening gleam entered his eyes as he pushed her back against the wall. Little sparks burst across her vision as his free hand pulled up her skirt.

“Oh, ye’ll have me,” he sneered, wedging himself between her legs. “I havenae gone through all this effort to finally get ye alone and nae have a piece of ye. I thought I could just taste, but ye’ve driven me to my breakin’ point, and I’ll nae be satisfied until I’ve had all of ye.”

“Get off!” Morgana shouted at the top of her lungs.

Lifting her leg, she slammed her foot into his shin. The blow was enough to force him to release her, but he had pinned her to the corner.

“Oh, ye’ll be beggin’ for somethin’ different here, I promise,” Cohen hissed, snatching her by the waist. “Shall we have my wife watch us? Ye ken, I’ve been wantin’ to try it. I wanted her tied up in the corner, watchin’ me have my way with ye. Gets me hard just thinkin’ about it. See for yerself what ye do to me.”

“Nay, leave me alone,” Morgana said hunting for an escape route.

“Stop lyin’ to yerself,” Cohen growled. “Ye must have kenned that I’ve wanted ye from the moment I laid eyes on ye.”

“I’m married,” Morgana insisted as she dared to hunt for some escape.

“Cohen, please, ye have to let me go,” she pleaded, trying to keep the fear from her voice. The last thing she wanted was to give Cohen a reason to come any closer.

“Dinnae fight this. Ye’ve wanted me just as much as I’ve wanted ye. I saw it in the dungeons. The way yer eyes lit up the second I stepped into the cell. Ye cannae deny ye want me.”

“Cohen, ye’re married. What of Orella? She’s hurt. Ye can save her.”

“Dinnae ye see? I did it for us. With her out of the way, we can run away. Ye dinnae have to go back to the castle. I can keep ye safe, and ye can love me,” Cohen said, a twisted grin curling his lips.

He darted around the chair, catching her skirt as she tried to escape.

“Dinnae run from me.”

“Nay, let go, dinnae do this,” Morgana protested as she pulled back.

The fabric of her skirt tore in his strong grip.

She took advantage of the moment and raced for the door.

“Ye’re nae goin’ anywhere,” he growled as she twisted onto her back.

It didn’t matter which way she moved; he had her right where he wanted her.

“Ryder will kill ye.”

“Nae if I kill him first.”