Page 7 of Taken by the Ruthless Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #6)

7

“W ell, Morgana, I must say that ye’ve outdone yerself,” Cohen remarked the moment he stepped into the sitting room.

Morgana beamed with pride as she glanced at the table covered in various delectable foods. She had slices of cheese, from sharp to mild cheddar, along with roasted wild turkey and an assortment of fruits, spread out among pastries and cakes.

“Do ye think the Laird will like it?” she asked as she pulled Orella into a hug.

As she looked at her honored guests, she did not miss the pity on their faces. It was as if they were keeping an important secret from her.

But it took her two days to organize the dinner, and for that alone, Morgana refused to let their sour faces ruin her moment.

“My dear, I ken that ye’re eager to impress the Laird and all, but there are some things ye have to understand,” Orella began as she drew her to the table of goodies. “Men dinnae like these sorts of gatherings. Now, tell them that the whiskey will flow freely and ye willnae be able to get them to leave. But this… I wouldnae get my hopes up if I were ye.”

“Take heart,” Cohen chimed in. “I’m sure one of these days—maybe years down the road, when things arenae so turbulent—he’ll have the time for ye. But Laird McKenzie is a very busy man. And he has many enemies.”

“Oh?” Morgana murmured, her eyebrows rising more from curiosity than anything else.

She had barely heard anything about her husband but rumors. From his criminal activities to the whores he bedded at night, she was desperate for any nugget of information she could get about him.

“And pray tell, what do ye ken about the Laird?”

Orella looped her arm through Morgana’s and pulled her closer. “From the things I’ve heard,” she murmured in a conspiratorial tone, “the Laird was kicked out for killin’ a man.”

“Now, we dinnae ken that for certain,” Cohen interjected as he nibbled on the bits of cheese he’d piled on his plate. “It’s hard to distinguish the man from the myth. And even harder when the previous Laird refused to keep any records of him. The only thing provin’ filiation… well, let’s just say ye cannae save everythin’ in a fire.”

“Do ye ken if he’s upset about that?” Morgana asked, itching to hear more. “If I had kenned how important that tapestry was…”

“And if ye hadnae, the whole west wing would be nothin’ but ash and soot, and I’d be bones,” Orella said, giving her a tight reassuring squeeze.

“Aye, ye cannae dismiss yer heroic act. The fact that ye put out the fire should have squashed all doubts about ye,” Cohen added with a wink.

But it did nothing to quell the worry growing like a weed in the back of Morgana’s mind.

“But it didnae,” she mumbled. “I dinnae think I could do anythin’ that would put me in the council’s good graces.”

“Ye ken what ye need to do?” Orella spoke up, her voice high-pitched with excitement. “Ye need to have dinner with Nathan. He’s the one who has been against ye from the start.”

“Orella,” Cohen hissed.

The warning was like a whip to Morgana’s ears. She glanced pitifully at Orella, wishing there was something she could do to comfort her.

“I’d suggest ye remember what I told ye about appropriate topics of conversation.”

“Of course, husband,” Orella mumbled, keeping her eyes trained on the floor.

The tension in the air crackled as a servant came into the room and cleared his throat. Outside the door, a loud commotion echoed through the corridor, drawing Morgana’s attention.

“Husband?” she gasped as she watched the Laird stumble down the hall. “Laird McKenzie. It’s so good to see ye. Are ye nae joinin’ us for dinner tonight?”

Her heart sank as she spotted the flush on his cheeks and the glazed look in his eyes.

Daring to step out of the room, Morgana caught a whiff of strong liquor. The Laird squinted his eyes at her as he swayed on his feet.

“Ye’re drunk,” she whispered.

The heat of embarrassment shot through her veins, igniting every fiber of her being.

This was beyond rude. It was disgraceful .

“Maybe just a wee bit,” the Laird slurred as he pinched the air, indicating the tiny space between his fingers.

“I thought we had an agreement,” Morgana said through gritted teeth.

She could feel Orella and Cohen’s gazes boring into her back. She didn’t need to turn around to know that they were lingering at the door, eagerly hanging on her every word.

“That we did,” the Laird crowed. “And it was a fine agreement if I do say so myself.”

“Aye, and I’m referrin’ to the part where we’re supposed to have dinner together, or have ye completely forgotten about it?” Morgana asked. The stench of alcohol and hay permeated the air around her, making her nauseous. “And where have ye been? Ye smell as if ye’ve been rollin’ around in a barn.”

“Ah, and that is where ye’re mistaken,” he drawled, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes.

Morgana blinked back her tears as the warning in his gaze struck her like an oar to a lake, shattering the peaceful surface.

“Why even show up here? Did ye do it just to humiliate me? Is that how this is goin’ to be?”

“And what company do ye have that’s so important?” the Laird asked, craning his neck to look around her.

She watched as his eyes widened and his smirk dropped.

“Ye have Cohen alone in there with ye?” he hissed.

“Nay, Orella is in there too,” Morgana answered swiftly, stifling the flames of suspicion before they could erupt. “But I think I shall get back to my guests.”

“Aye, that might be best. Wouldnae want them to think too ill of ye.” The Laird let out a dark chuckle.

Morgana rolled her shoulders back and straightened to her full height. Despite her size, she wasn’t going to allow him to get under her skin.

“Such things dinnae matter to real friends. It’s a pity that ye’ll never ken the joy such things bring,” Morgana sneered, before turning on her heel and making a beeline for the room.

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she closed the door behind her, shutting her husband out. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she tried not to cry as she turned her attention back to Orella and Cohen.

“I believe my husband has a prior commitment,” she offered. “Please, enjoy the dinner in yer honor.”

“Ye dinnae have to put on a brave face for me,” Orella said, rushing to her side. “I’ve had my fair share of disappointments.”

“I dinnae ken what I thought would happen,” Morgana whispered, more to herself than to Orella.

She wiped a tear from her cheek, trying to hide signs of her distress, but it was written all over her face. The night she had hoped to get to know her husband and praise the people who’d been such a blessing to her was ruined.

Disappointment stung like a hive of bees, jabbing her right in the chest. It didn’t matter what delicious thing she put in her mouth—everything tasted bitter.

“It was a lovely dinner,” Orella complimented as she picked up her coat from the back of her chair.

The hour was still early, but there was no salvaging the good spirit or bringing back the merriment.

“Aye, the best I’ve had in a while,” Cohen concurred, causing Orella to swat his arm as they teased each other.

Morgana couldn’t help but smile at the pair of them.

“Bite yer tongue, or I’ll have ye cook from now on.”

“And where did that get us the last time ye threatened such a thing? Och, that’s right—ye fell ill because I cannae cook. Do ye really want to go down that road?” Cohen shot back, his tone shifting from playful to serious.

Orella stiffened as she flashed Morgana a quick smile. “I think it’s best we leave ye be,” she said quickly, before leaning in and embracing her tightly. “Will I see ye in the mornin’? I could use some help with collectin’ herbs and such, seein’ as what we had in the storeroom was burnt.”

“That would be lovely,” Morgana answered, pleased to have something to do. “I’ll ask Poppy and Eloise to join us.”

“I look forward to seein’ the twins,” Orella said.

It did not escape Morgana’s notice how she cast a glance at Cohen, as if asking for permission.

“I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see ye too.” Morgana beamed.

At that moment, the servants rushed into the room to clear away all signs of her dinner party.

With a heavy heart, Morgana started for her chambers. Now that her guests left, the weight of loneliness settled on her chest. It made every step feel heavy, as if she were trudging through the bog.

“Did ye see how the Laird dismissed the Lady?” she overheard someone whisper from one of the rooms she passed by.

The question pulled her to a halt.

She closed her eyes, debating whether to hear more. But the need to know what the castle thought of her was like an ache in her chest that wouldn’t go away.

“I missed it,” another voice chimed in. There was no mistaking the glee in it. “What happened?”

“He came in drunk, passed by the room she was in and didnae say a word. She came barrelin’ out of the room to stop him.”

“I dinnae see the problem with that. I dinnae care who my husband is—Laird or Duke or Earl makes nay difference. But ye better believe they’ll show me respect. What he did was wrong, the poor lass. How would ye feel if ye went out of yer way to prepare a fine dinner, tryin’ yer hardest to impress someone, and ye get turned down?”

“Never saw it that way before.”

Morgana blinked as the weight in her chest lightened just a bit. The validation she felt seemed to chase away the dreary clouds hovering over her head.

Quickening her steps, she made her way into her chambers and shut the door behind her.

Dawn had come too quickly. Morgana rolled onto her side, wishing that with the new day came new opportunities. But the truth of the matter was that she could still feel the grime of yesterday clinging to her.

“Good, ye’re awake,” Eloise intoned, her voice ringing through the room like a little bell. “Get dressed.”

“Why? What is goin’ on?” Morgana moaned, throwing the pillow over her head to block out the light.

“Ronnie and the stable boy, Dale are havin’ an archery contest,” Poppy said. She pulled on Morgana’s arm to get her to move. “I told him we’d be there.”

“Ye go on ahead, and I’ll catch up with ye,” Morgana mumbled, praying her younger sister would leave her in peace.

She didn’t want to face the sun. She wanted to cower in the shadows and lick her wounds. The very thought of crossing paths with her husband sent a shiver down her spine.

“Oh nay, ye dinnae,” Eliose grunted, pulling more aggressively and with full determination.

The sight of the eleven-year-old struggling to yank Morgana off the bed was beyond entertaining. It was just the sort of spontaneity that she needed.

“Last time ye said that, we found ye in the library four hours later.”

“It’s nae my fault ye couldnae find me,” Morgana said with a smirk.

“ Ye were supposed to find us,” Eloise huffed, before changing tactics. “Now, come on.”

“Fine,” Morgana grumbled playfully as she rolled off the bed. “I’ll go. But I willnae like it.”

“Aye, ye will,” Eloise asserted.

“Oh nay, we cannae go,” Morgana gasped suddenly, raking her fingers through her mussed hair. “I promised Orella that we’d help her restock the storeroom.”

“We can do both,” Eloise said gleefully. “Ronnie’s contest willnae take long. When it’s finished, we can get everyone to help.”

“Sometimes, ye can be pretty clever, ye ken that?” Morgana smirked.

“Aye, well, I had a great teacher,” Eloise quipped as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flushed a rosy color that made Morgana’s heart swell.

How she looked like their mother. Out of all the siblings, it was Eloise who reminded Morgana of their parents the most.

Letting out a forlorn sigh, Morgana reached behind her and tossed a pillow at Eloise.

“Ouch, that’s nae fair. I wasnae ready,” Eloise complained and grabbed a pillow to toss at her.

“I thought we had an archery contest to get to,” Morgana teased as she was pummeled with the pillow relentlessly.

“I’ll stop, but ye promise to get up? Ye cannae go back to sleep,”,” Eloise warned as she stepped away from her, pillow still in hand.

“I’ll get up, give me a moment… or seven.”

“I’m waitin’ for ye right out there,” Eloise said with a mischievous smirk.

“Ye’re the one holdin’ me up now.”

* * *

“The hour is late,” Orella noted, looking up at the sky.

Morgana smiled as she watched Poppy and Eloise chase the fireflies, both girls skipping over the basil and thyme. Her heart swelled at the peacefulness of the moment.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so calm. Yet, as the last light of the day lingered in the mid-twilight hours, a heaviness settled in her chest.

“Are ye all right?” Orella asked, reaching for her.

“Aye,” Morgana replied. She shifted her gaze to the dark windows of the castle. “And ye?”

“Och, just grand, thank ye,” Orella said in a prim tone that irked her. “Come on, ye dinnae have to wear the mask out here. Nay one else wanders into this part of the garden.”

“And why is that?” Morgana asked, looking around the familiar courtyard that still echoed with the merriment from her wedding.

“They say it’s haunted,” Orella whispered.

“That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ll nae entertain the thought a minute longer,” Morgana scoffed, rising to her feet. “Poppy, Eloise, dinner should be ready. Let us get ye cleaned up.”

“Will ye be eatin’ with us?” Eloise asked as she slipped her little hand into Morgana’s and batted her long lashes at her. “Ye havenae done it in so long, and I missed havin’ ye at my side.”

Morgana stared at her sisters for a moment, their eyes brimming with a longing that she couldn’t ignore. She bit her lower lip as she considered her options. Although she had an agreement with the Laird, he didn’t seem to care about it. So why should she?

“Very well,” she relented.

Eloise jumped into her arms with a squeal.

Orella smiled as Morgana carried her sister around the corner to the side door of the castle.

The moment she turned the corner, Morgana stopped. Standing in her path was a middle-aged maid, with cheeks white as sheets.

“Lady McKenzie? Laird McKenzie requests yer presence in the dining hall,” the maid announced, her voice wavering at the end.

Morgana glanced over at Orella, who gave her an ‘I told you so’ look.

“We’d better get goin’ then,” Orella urged.

Morgana shook her head. “Tell the Laird that I willnae be dinin’ with him tonight,” she said, glancing at Eloise and Poppy. “I have a prior engagement.”