Page 5 of Taken by the Ruthless Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #6)

5

“T he nerve…” Morgana huffed as she paced the length of her chambers.

She fiddled with the pendant around her neck as her mind whirled with thoughts of Ryder. How he had towered over her, pressing her against the wall of the castle. The mere thought made her flush.

“I mean, really, who does he think he is?” Morgana complained to the empty chambers.

She had expected her wedding to be an event to remember, but the only thing that caught her attention was the brutality of Ryder’s actions. He exhilarated and terrified her.

Heavy steps fell near the door, causing her ears to perk up. She froze, and for a moment, she thought perhaps the Laird had changed his mind about her company. After all, he had made it very clear that there were certain obligations she had to fulfill. It shouldn’t surprise her one bit that he’d come to claim what he could.

Swallowing hard, she waited for the door to fly open. Only when the steps continued down the hallway and vanished into the stillness of the night did she exhale. The torment of waiting was driving her mad.

“This is ridiculous. Why must I be the one to wait? If we’re goin’ to do this, then I might as well get the deed done and over with, right?” she asked her reflection in the full-length mirror.

The woman staring back at her looked beyond terrified; she looked pale as a phantom and just as frail.

Taking a deep breath, Morgana steeled herself and pushed through her chamber door. The empty, dark hallway stretched before her like fog in a graveyard. An icy tingle started from the top of her head and raced down to her toes, chilling everything in its path.

Her steps were light, leaving no impression of her flight through the corridor. With each step she took, she grew bolder.

For the first time in her life, Morgana felt the stir of desire deep within her.

She stopped at the closed oak door and glanced over her shoulder. Peering through the shadows, she leaned in to listen. With nothing echoing down either side of the hallway, she was certain she was alone. Mustering her courage, she reached for the doorknob.

“What are ye doin’ in here?” the Laird asked the second she stepped into the dimly lit room. “Did I nae make it clear that I wanted to be left alone?”

Morgana’s chest tightened as her heart fluttered like the wings of a bird. She dared to take a step closer as she spotted his dark silhouette in the corner of the room. He towered like a specter of doom.

“Ye said there were certain… duties that ye expected me to do,” Morgana answered. The words scraped her parched throat as if they had grown barbs.

Ryder’s dark chuckle echoed through the room and sent a shiver through her. The sound was both teasing and inviting, as it made her heart rate quicken.

“Is that so? And pray tell, what exactly was it that ye had in mind?” he asked. The playfulness in his tone grated on her nerves.

Had she known he’d only wish to humiliate her, she would have stayed in her chambers.

Refusing to let him tease her, Morgana stood as straight as she could despite knowing that it did not give her an advantage. After all, she wasn’t as intimidating as he was. Not when she was five foot tall. To him, she had to be nothing more than a gnat, buzzing around and annoying him.

She trembled as he stepped closer to her. The heat of him radiated off his skin and seeped into her. The scent of musk, moss, and something uniquely him swirled around her, causing her head to spin.

“As temptin’ as ye are,” Ryder whispered as he stroked the tips of his fingers over her collarbone, “I think ye may have misunderstood.”

Goosebumps followed his fingertips, spreading wherever he dared to touch. It was as if his fingers were hot little coals, searing her skin with each touch. As light as his touch was, it felt as if he were carving into her flesh.

“Have I now?” Morgana managed to ask, finding it harder and harder to control her breathing.

Ryder was intoxicating, and the longer she stayed with him, the more her longing grew.

“Aye,” he answered as he circled her. “Ye see, I have nay intention of touchin’ ye.”

His words were like a gust of fresh air, clearing the fog of his desire from her thoughts.

“What was that?” she murmured as his mischievous grin softened into a smile.

“Ye think I’m the sort of man that will give myself to just anyone?” Ryder asked, his tone teasing yet condescending.

“But I thought…” Morgana trailed off as his gaze lingered on her.

He looked her up and down as if he were committing every inch of her body to memory.

“It is clear by the hour what ye had thought,” Ryder said. “But there are some things that cannae be rushed. I want ye to come to me willingly, nae out of some sense of obligation. I’m nae my faither, and I will never force myself on anyone. Ye have my word on that, Lady McKenzie.”

Morgana stood before him dumbfounded.

Clearly, he wasn’t anything like his father. Even as she presented herself in nothing but her robe and shift, he rose above her feeble excuse for seduction.

She stepped back from him, wishing she had never left the confines of her chambers. At least there, she wouldn’t have embarrassed herself in such a manner.

“But what of heirs?” she mumbled as she pulled the collar of her robe tighter.

Ryder leaned back, his smile widening. “The line dies with me. I thought I made it clear the sort of arrangement this was to be. But dinnae despair. Our marriage will be consummated, but it will only happen when ye’re ready for such a commitment, nae before,” he said, his voice eerily heavy with emotion.

The words lingered in the air between them like a blade of a guillotine. Morgana’s heart sank as if it were an anchor plunging into the deep, dark sea.

“I see,” she muttered as she turned to the door. A wave of vulnerability crashed over her, threatening to knock her off her feet.

Ryder stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Ye dinnae even ken what it was ye were askin’ for, do ye?” he asked. He plucked a strand of her hair and stroked it with his fingers. “Ye really are that innocent, are ye nae?”

Morgana’s anger flared. “I’m nae as innocent as ye think.”

“Nay, of course nae. Ye married my faither, after all. Then again, he would eat the innocent for breakfast and devour the meek for lunch.”

“Ye really hated that man, did ye nae?” she asked.

Ryder’s left eye twitched. “I think the hour is late,” he said as he reached for the knob and pulled the door open. “Ye should get some sleep.”

“But…” Morgana protested as he ushered her out of his room.

“Goodnight.”

She stumbled into the empty hallway, hearing the door click shut behind her. Her eyes closed as she said a silent prayer. The last thing she wanted was to have an audience to her humiliation.

But much to her relief, the hallway was as silent as a grave.

Rolling her shoulders back, she pulled her robe tighter around herself and made her way back to her chambers.

Well, that was… I dinnae think that’s how such things are supposed to happen. Is it me? Does my husband nae want me?

A pang of rejection cut through her like an icicle cutting through powdery snow. It went deep and hard. She pulled in a gulp of air, trying to ignore the sting. But what was she to do?

The walk back to her room felt like trudging through the bowels of hell. By the time she reached her door, the tears were spilling over her lashes.

“Lady McKenzie?” a soft voice called from the shadows.

Morgana glanced over her shoulder, her heart soaring at the sight.

“Poppy? What are ye doin’ here? Where is Eloise? And Ronnie? I havenae seen any of ye since they—” Morgana broke off as she dashed away her tears.

“Cohen let us out of the dungeons when they took ye. He had us held up in his house for the whole day in fear that the new Laird wouldnae be so kind to ye. It wasnae until after ye were married that we were released.”

“Oh, Poppy, I missed ye so much,” Morgana croaked as she threw her arms around Poppy’s little body and squeezed her tightly. “I dinnae think ye’ll be in any danger from her on out. The Laird has allowed ye all to stay here with me if ye want.”

“Do ye mean it?” Poppy asked as she looked up at her elder sister, her eyes filled with hope and awe. “We can stay here?”

“The Laird has granted ye permission to stay here if ye want.”

“I cannae speak for the others, but I’d like to stay,” Poppy declared through a heavy yawn.

The poor child had been through more than Morgana ever wanted to think about.

“Why dinnae we get ye to bed—it is late,” Morgana said as she corralled Poppy to the stairs.

“I had a bad dream,” Poppy answered. “And Eloise was kickin’. Can I sleep with ye?”

Morgana’s heart swelled at her sister’s request. She beckoned her over and guided her into her room.

“This is a large room!” Poppy gushed as they entered. “Far bigger than the room we’re sleepin’ in.”

“Is everyone well? Ronnie? What news of him?” Morgana asked.

She found herself craving any news that could fill the holes left by Ryder’s rejection.

“Aye, but Ronnie is always tryin’ to pick a fight with the man-at-arms and the councilmen. He wants to ken what happened to Tormod,” Poppy replied as she climbed into the plush bedding.

“I wanted to tell ye, but I havenae had a moment to myself.” Morgana paused. “Tormod was my witness at the weddin’.”

“Weddin’? Then it’s true, ye married the Laird,” Poppy said, her little eyes as wide as saucers. “Does this mean that we’re safe?”

“Aye,” Morgana uttered as she pulled the blankets up to her sister’s chin. “And Tormod has left for Kilbray.”

“Feya…” Poppy whispered the name as if it had some magical properties. “Do ye think we’ll ever see her again?”

“I ken we will,” Morgana answered with such conviction that even she believed it.

But the truth of the matter was that she didn’t know if she ever would see Feya. It felt like a lifetime already since she had last seen her sister. All she had was memories to cling to, yet even those seemed to be fading.

“Ronnie told me nae to come,” Poppy yawned as she snuggled into the pillows. “He said ye’d be busy tonight. Was there somethin’ ye were supposed to do?”

Morgana pursed her lips as she tried to ignore the ache in her chest. “Just be here with ye. The hour is late. Close yer eyes and go to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day.”

“And a new start,” Poppy mumbled, her lashes fluttering. “Every day God wipes the old way and gives us a fresh start.”

“Aye,” Morgana said to placate her. “Rest.”

But rest wasn’t something she could do. Not when Poppy’s words weighed so heavily on her.

Something about having a fresh start, a new day, gave Morgana hope. She stripped out of her robe, letting it drop to the floor as she climbed into the empty spot beside Poppy.

* * *

The soft orange morning light kissed Morgana’s cheeks and eyes, stirring her from her restless slumber. She slipped out of bed, trying her best not to wake Poppy.

The child had clearly been through so much and needed all the sleep she could get. Morgana’s only regret was the fact that only Poppy was enjoying the comfort of her bed.

“Sleep as long as ye want,” she whispered, before stepping away from the bed.

She dressed as quickly and quietly as she could. Poppy’s advice rang in her ears as she pulled her hair into a knot atop her head and let some ringlets fall around her face.

“It’s a new day,” Morgana whispered to the mirror. “We’re goin’ to do great things today.”

She was determined to find some way to please her husband. And so she rushed to the kitchen, eager to start the morning right with a good meal. But by the time she found the cook, she got word that Ryder had already left for the day.

Flustered, Morgana sat in the kitchen, debating what she should do, when the sound of Orella’s laughter drifted to her ears. Curiosity pulled her out of the mire of her thoughts, luring her to the garden beyond the door of the kitchen.

“Orella?” Morgana asked as she stepped through the door. “Is everythin’ all right?”

“Morgana, what on earth are ye doin’ up so early? I thought ye’d be tuckered out and nae come out for a fortnight,” Orella teased as Morgana hurried over to her.

“Aye, well, I suppose there are just some habits that I cannae break, even for marriage,” Morgana answered.

“Ain’t that the truth? It’s like I have been tellin’ Cohen; he needs to put his socks over the hearth so they dry faster. But does he listen to me? Nay, of course nae. And why? Because we’re married. If I was his mistress, he’d listen.”

“Would ye ever want to be the other woman?” Morgana asked as her gaze strayed to the windows of the castle.

She couldn’t help but hope to catch a glimpse of her husband, even if for a fleeting moment.

“Of course nae. Nay wife wants that. Nae even a gently bred lady. Sometimes, though, things dinnae happen the way we want them to,” Orella replied, resting a hand on Morgana’s shoulder. “And if ye’re hopin’ to catch the Laird, he’s gone huntin’.”

“Aye, the cook told me when I had hoped to fix his first meal,” Morgana muttered as she leaned down to pluck a daisy from the flowerbed.

“Well, if it’s a meal ye want to fix…” Orella trailed off, jabbing her elbow into Morgana’s side.

“Oh, right,” Morgana said, a flush rising to her cheeks. “I wanted to prepare a feast for ye—and, of course, Cohen. To thank ye. Ye are the only ones who have stood up for me durin’ this trial.”

“It wasnae a trial; it was a bloodbath. The council is still hungry for blood. Just because they havenae made a move yet, doesnae mean they willnae. According to Cohen, some of them arenae at all pleased with yer marriage.”

“Nay,” Morgana huffed. “I dinnae suppose they would be. But what am I to do?”

“Well, maybe organize a banquet for some of the other council members,” Orella suggested. “Everyone likes to have their wheels greased. Maybe if ye extend an olive branch…”

“They still believe I killed the former Laird, and until I prove them wrong, their suspicion will always be hangin’ over my head. I’ll always be lookin’ over my shoulder.”

“It willnae always be like this,” Orella insisted, with a cheery smile that felt out of place.

“That’s easy for ye to say; ye have a lovin’ husband,” Morgana pointed out.

Orella flinched at her words. “Well, that might be stretchin’ it a bit. He cares for me and sees to my needs. Is that nae love?”

But Morgana had barely heard her, as she was busy searching the dark windows for her husband.

“I suppose,” she mumbled.

Hope rose within her as she caught a flash of movement in his study. Her eyes widened. But in a flash, all her hope was dashed to the ground.

It wasn’t the Laird, but the vile Nathan.

She tilted her head and let out a heavy sigh. “I just thought there would be more, ye ken? A spark or an all-encompassing feeling.”

“Ye’ll only find that sort of love in books. The real stuff is richer and far harder to find. That’s the sort of love ye want to experience.”

“How, though? How can I gain favor with the Laird?”

“If there’s one thing I ken, is that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Orella said with a smile. “Get him to have dinner with us. I guarantee ye, he’ll be in love with ye within the week.”