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

6

R yder took a long, deep breath as he rounded the bend of the loch. The crisp morning air filled his lungs and revived his weary spirits.

It wasn’t just his marriage that had him on edge, but his new responsibilities. He knew that assuming the lairdship was going to be hard; his father wouldn’t have left it any other way. But the one thing he hadn’t accounted for was Morgana.

Even now as he charged through the mist of the Highlands, his course uncharted, she vexed him. It was as if she were a dreary shadow determined to riddle him with contempt and strife.

It didn’t matter what he did, for she constantly skipped and danced along the edges of his mind.

Ryder wished he could figure out what it was about her that drew him in. Was it the way she captivated the room? Or was it because the clan hated her, which instantly made her far more desirable to him?

Blast it all to hell. Get out of my head.

Ryder quickened his pace as if he had spotted a rival ahead of him. With his legs already burning, he mustered more strength to go even faster.

With each stride, an unquenchable fire shot through the veins in his legs. Yet, the harder he pushed himself, the more vivid her presence became. Not even being out on the open moor, with the crisp morning air filling his nostrils, could push every trace of Morgana out of his mind.

What is it about ye, lass?

His heart pounded relentlessly, mixed with a pinch of frustration and a heavy load of desire.

There was no doubt that the raven-haired lass had caught his eye. But it was her boldness in the face of death that intrigued him the most. Seeing her on the barrel, stoic and resigned to her fate, had moved him. It was as if she held the answers to the darkest questions he dared not ask. Yet, he had to know.

Making the circuit around the training camp, Ryder couldn’t help but notice the small number of men in the yard. Either the clan was on strike, or they had grown so lazy under his father’s rule that they had forgotten the pride to wake up so early.

As he jogged along the border, he tried not to look at the place with contempt or malice. After all, this was his clan to rule, and these were his soldiers to lead.

As he approached the glade beyond the stone wall of the castle, he slowed to a halt and leaned against a sturdy oak to catch his breath.

The sound of the birds singing merrily in the boughs of the trees only reminded him of Morgana’s melodic voice. He wondered if she could sound intimidating. A small chuckle escaped his lips at the thought.

“So, this is how ye decide ye’re goin’ to waste yer time,” Angus drawled as he poked his head around the stone archway. The gaurd winked. “Well, while ye’re makin’ the lap to hell and back, the council is settlin’ matters with yer wife.”

The news rattled Ryder to his core. He pushed off the wall and started for the castle, Felix hot on his heels.

“A secret meetin’? Is there anyone I can trust?” he grumbled.

“Most of these men were very loyal to yer faither. I dinnae think such a courtesy extends to ye,” Felix said.

Ryder stormed through the main entrance. The moan of the door hinges grated on his nerves, but as long as it echoed and drifted into the bowels of the castle, he didn’t care.

“Where?” he snapped as Angus took the lead.

Without hesitation, Ryder followed him through one corridor after another. If he hadn’t played in every nook and cranny of the castle, trying to steer clear of his father, he wouldn’t have a clue as to where he was. But the shadows were his friends, as were the secrets that lingered like phantoms in the corners of the castle.

“This is treason!” he shouted and barged into the storeroom.

The seven men there froze. And as he glared at each one in turn, sizing them up, his gaze fell on Nathan.

“What is the meanin’ of this? Ye think ye can stage a coup? It might have worked when my faither was Laird, but it’ll nae happen under my rule. Call the guards, I want these men thrown in the dungeons.”

“My Laird, please,” Nathan sputtered as he bowed low. “We merely wish to ensure our safety.”

“From what? Or from whom? If ye’re goin’ to mention Morgana, ye can keep silent,” Ryder snapped.

“Please humor me, My Laird, but that woman killed the previous Laird. Ye think she willnae do the same to ye?” Nathan countered.

“And if she does, what’s it to me? She’ll have done the deed, and ye’ll be able to kill two birds with one stone. That’s what ye’re tryin’ to do, is it nae? Ye’re all here to find a way to get me out of the picture. Which one of ye is eyein’ my seat? Is it ye, Nathan?” Ryder asked. “Aye. It is isnae, is it? Well, I can tell ye, it willnae be easy.”

“What in the world is goin’ on here? Are ye tryin’ to damage the grain?” Orella grumbled the moment she rounded the corner.

Ryder stepped out of the room, just as Angus came rushing down the corridor with a few guards he recognized. Disgust festered deep within his soul as Angus ordered the guards to restrain the seven councilmen.

“My Laird, ye cannae jail the councilmen. The clan will think ye’ve gone mad,” Angus whispered, before marching into the room.

“Take them all to the dungeons. Let them spend a night or two in the mire—maybe then ye’ll remember yer places,” Ryder barked.

He watched as Angus and the guards dragged Nathan and the other traitorous councilmen out of the room.

“How long did ye want to keep them in the dungeons?” Angus asked. “Ye ken they have the means to get out in a matter of hours.”

“As long as possible,” Ryder answered. “I just need them out of my way long enough to get a few men I can trust here. How long can ye give me?”

“Two days… at most,” Angus said, keeping his voice low. “But that’s with yer permission.”

The idea of keeping the councilmen in the dungeons indefinitely made Ryder smile.

At least half of the councilmen were traitors, in his eyes. If they hadn’t thrown him out of his home and banished him for doing the things he loved, things might have been different. But as it stood, he was surrounded by his enemies.

“Do what ye can and give me as much time as ye can. I dinnae need them in my business,” Ryder pressed. He noticed Orella lingering in the corner. Her presence was a bit disturbing to him. “Orella, what is it that I can do for ye? Where is yer husband?”

“My Laird… well, Cohen has gone to fetch some herbs from the forest. We’ve been tryin’ to restock the storeroom since the fire,” she answered, craning her neck to look around him. “Where is Morgana? She was right behind me.”

Ryder’s heart flipped, and his ears perked up. Every hair on his arms and neck stood on end as if zapped by some mystical force. For a split second, he had thought Morgana was right behind him. But when he turned around, he only saw an empty hallway.

“Well, she was right there,” Orella murmured.

“I’m sure she’ll come around,” he forced out, stifling the hope rising within him.

“Aye, she will.” Orella smirked as she gave him a once-over.

Ryder glared at her for a moment before stepping back.

“Ye ken, she was talkin’ about hostin’ a dinner. Did ye ken anythin’ about it?”

“Is that so? Nay, she never mentioned a word to me,” Ryder grumbled as he wondered what was going through Morgana’s head. She knew they were to have dinner together, so why was she trying to invite more people? The notion of his wife not fully trusting him flickered across his thoughts. He rolled his shoulders back and arched an eyebrow. “But I’m confident that Lady McKenzie will have nay issues with hostin’ ye and yer husband.”

“She’ll be very disappointed to hear that ye willnae attend,” Orella said, wincing. “She’s puttin’ much thought into the meal. I think it’ll be somethin’ ye will like very much.”

“Woman, I have other matters to attend to,” Ryder snapped,

“Well, I have never,” Orella gasped the moment he released her.

He rolled his eyes and stormed down the hall. His time was short, and every second was precious. Morgana’s little dinner could wait.

Ryder was far more concerned about the lack of men he could trust in this castle. Getting the council rounded up was far harder than it should have been.

What he needed was good, loyal men, and there was only one place he could go to find such men.

* * *

A genuine smile spread across Ryder’s lips as he stepped into the tavern. The heat of the pit warmed his face as he pulled in a deep breath. It was the salty air mingling with rosemary and burnt fat that soothed him the most.

Stepping further into the tavern, he scanned the room. His towering height drew the attention of several patrons. It was there in the corner, masked by smoke and shadow, that he spotted a familiar face.

Felix’s green eyes narrowed as Ryder walked over to his table. The atmosphere in the room shifted as he stopped at the table.

“Look who has graced us with his presence. I do believe it’s none other than Laird Fartworthy,” Felix drawled, lifting his cup the moment the music stopped.

“Is that really how ye’re goin’ to greet an old friend?” Ryder scoffed as he knocked his feet off the table and pulled out the empty chair. He sat down, keeping his gaze fixed on the man.

“Friend? More like a fiend. Ye stole my boat, or have ye forgotten? Nae only that, but ye also left me on the moor as the rain poured down on me.”

“Ye hadnae bathed in over two weeks,” Ryder reminded him with a hearty chuckle. “It wasnae just me who got ye up there. But if it makes ye happy, I’ll take the blame.”

“Aye, that ye will,” Felix said. “But what’s this I hear about ye gettin’ married? Tell me it’s nae true.”

“That rumor is very much true,” Ryder answered, unable to hide the irritation in his voice.

His bewilderment only made Felix chuckle.

“What is this? Ye sound as if ye’ve been married for a lifetime already. Surely the lass cannae be that bad,” Felix murmured, pushing the decanter of whiskey toward him.

“It’s been difficult,” Ryder allowed, hesitating to tell Felix the whole story.

Felix would find out, eventually. The question was whether to have him find out through a different channel.

Ryder swallowed hard. If he wanted Felix to trust him, he would have to be honest.

“Tell me somethin’ I dinnae ken,” Felix said as he took a swig of his whiskey.

“I need yer help,” Ryder mumbled, staring into the amber liquid in his glass.

“Is that so?” Felix asked, arching an eyebrow.

“My faither is gone,” Ryder said sternly, his gaze steely.

“Aye, so I heard. Cannae say that surprises me.”

“My wife is the alleged killer,” Ryder continued, swirling the liquid in his glass.

He slowly raised his eyes to Felix’s. The shock on his friend’s face was not a surprise. He could hear how the words sounded the moment they left his lips. It was a confession he wished he could take back.

“Well, I always kenned ye had a death wish. I just didnae think it was that serious,” Felix teased. “So, she did what ye couldnae,” Felix remarked.

“Clearly, ye havenae seen the lass. She barely comes up to my navel. I could throw her across the room like a javelin. There is nay way she could have done it,” Ryder said as he took a swig, enjoying the burn as it trickled down his throat.

“Poison?”

“Nay,” Ryder answered. “According to the reports, his throat was slit.”

“Is that so? Well, yer faither had many enemies. There’s nay tellin’ who could have done it,” Felix said.

“Aye, which is why I need yer help.” Ryder leaned over the table and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Come back with me. I can offer ye a position in my castle. I need men I can trust.”

“I’d ask who ye have on the council now, but from the desperation in yer voice, I’d say it doesnae matter,” Felix noted. “If it is loyalty ye seek, ye ken ye have my sword and my life. I owe ye as it is. If this is how ye wish for me to repay ye, then so be it.”

“Ye ken this is goin’ to irk a lot of people in the castle. They couldnae stand us when we were in there before; I doubt they’ll be too pleased to see ye back among them,” Ryder cautioned, just as the barmaid came around with a jug of ale. He eyed the jug with a sort of lust that could only be quenched by a woman’s touch.

“Ye should probably return to the castle,” Felix urged. “Yer councilmen will be mad if they find out ye came all the way to Lochcairn.”

“They’re locked in the dungeons at the moment,” Ryder confessed. The warmth of the whiskey spread through his body, numbing his insides.

“What did ye do?” Felix asked, the shock in his voice palpable.

“I needed them distracted while I had time to talk to ye. If I can keep them occupied with one thing, I’ll be able to investigate my faither’s murder much more easily—they’ll nae be able to keep up.”

“Ye devious rascal.” Felix let out a dark chuckle. “But what happens when they get out of the dungeons? Dinnae ye think they’d be a bit irate at bein’ held in the first place?”

“And what’s that to me?” Ryder scoffed. “Or have ye forgotten what they did to me?”

“Nay,” Felix answered. “For I was in the same boat.”

“And now we will have our vengeance. What say ye?” Ryder asked as he extended his hand toward him.

A wicked grin spread across Felix’s lips as he took his hand. “Vengeance or nae, I’ll follow ye anywhere.”