Page 8 of Taken by the Ruthless Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #6)

8

“O ch, for the love of all that is holy,” Ryder huffed as he glared at the steam rising from the roast chicken.

His mouth watered, and his stomach growled with hunger. He tapped his heels on the floor, his irritation growing with each passing moment.

“What is takin’ her so long? Am I to eat cold food?”

He rose to his feet, trying not to let his irritation fester and spoil his dinner. He glanced down at the food and reached for one of the buttered bread rolls piled high in the center of the small table. Nibbling on it as he paced, he couldn’t help but wonder what the hold-up could be. It wasn’t like his wife would dare run away, not after the ordeal she had gone through to save her family.

The creak of the doors caused him to whirl around, his heart in his throat. But instead of Morgana, he found himself staring at a petite middle-aged maid.

“What is this?” he hissed as he put the bread roll on his plate and dusted the crumbs from his hands. “Where is she?”

“Her Ladyship has stated that she willnae be dinin’ with ye tonight. In her words, she has a ‘prior engagement,’” the maid explained, her voice trembling with fear near the end.

Anger shot through him as if he were a rattlesnake recoiling to strike. Rolling his shoulders back, Ryder stomped toward the door.

“That’s one line she cannae cross,” he huffed, before fixing the maid with a steely look. “Where is she?”

“The terrace in the garden,” the maid muttered, her gaze glued to the floor.

Ryder nodded once and stormed into the corridor, moving with purpose. Clenching his jaw, he considered the words he was going to say to Morgana. She had promised to spend the evenings with him. What could have possibly happened to keep her from him?

The thoughts skipping through his mind were only stirring the pot of ire brewing over the coals of his rage.

When he pushed through the doors to the kitchen, the servants scattered like mice to light, each pretending to be busy. But Ryder kept his focus zeroed on the mission at hand and exited through the side door of the kitchen.

The warmth in the air caught him off guard. It was the change of the seasons as the world dusted off the last chill of winter.

Ryder pulled in a deep breath. He’d have to start tending the fields within the week, judging by the scent of wildflowers on the breeze.

If it weren’t for the sound of laughter echoing through the garden, he would have stayed on the terrace, enjoying the evening air, and watching the stars come out.

But he hadn’t come out to stargaze. It was Morgana he had come for—and her laughter, which tickled his ears.

“He’s nae all that bad,” he heard her say, just as he turned the corner and found her with her family.

Ryder stepped back around the corner and flattened himself against the wall. He felt as if he had walked in on a private moment. One he was certainly not a part of.

“I heard his nose is hooked because of all the times it was broken,” one of the twins admitted.

Ryder peered around the corner, his gaze falling directly on Morgana.

How tender she was to her younger siblings. It was as if she had cared for them her entire life. The sight of them laughing and eating under the harvest moon quelled his irritation.

“Poppy, have ye lost all yer senses? That is the silliest thing ye’ve come up with so far,” Morgana snorted.

Ryder pressed his lips together as he continued to listen.

The fact that she had no reason to defend him—other than being his wife—yet did so anyway, spoke louder than words ever could.

Ryder shifted his weight from foot to foot as he contemplated turning and heading back to the castle. Seeing Morgana with her family… it was more than what he had been prepared for.

If she was spoiled or rude, he would have had no issues dragging her back to the castle. Yet, that wasn’t what he had just witnessed.

Genuine compassion was something he had rarely seen in his life. Yet, it seemed to ooze from Morgana. She was kind and generous, constantly looking after others at every turn. She was unlike any woman he had ever encountered.

“It wasnae me,” Poppy answered. “Eloise is the one who started it.”

“What have I told ye about that, children? Ye shouldnae spread rumors. Ye could end up doin’ some serious damage or get someone into trouble,” Morgana chastised.

“But ye’re the lady of the clan now,” a deeper voice chimed in.

The hairs on the back of Ryder’s neck stood on end. He poked his head around the corner, hunting for the source of the male voice. Coming around the boxwood hedge, he spotted the youth’s silhouette.

“And what does that have to do with anythin’? Ye think I’ll be able to pull ye out of trouble? Ye forget that there’s still plenty of people who think I’m a killer,” Morgana said.

“But ye didnae do it,” another small voice piped up.

Ryder noticed Eloise skipping about in the grass, trying to catch the fireflies as the sunset streaked through the low-hanging clouds.

“Aye, I ken, but it doesnae mean that others think otherwise. Just as ye think the Laird is a vile man, he’s nae. Just a bit distant, is all,” Morgana said.

There was more compassion in her voice than anything he’d heard before.

“Yet ye still have that image of him. Well, some of the councilmen have an image of me that I can either ignore or try to change.”

“I didnae mean to cause any trouble, truly. I was just havin’ a bit of sport with it all,” Eloise mumbled.

Ryder’s chest tightened as his palm tingled. Oh, how he wanted to be the one to scold the child. If the children were going to stay under his roof, he would have them all obey without question.

“Ye’ll nae do that again, alright? Ye understand why, dinnae ye?” Morgana asked as the last rays of light lingered on the horizon.

Ryder watched as she packed up the blanket and food that hadn’t been touched.

“I understand,” Eloise said as she grabbed the picnic basket from her elder sister and skipped toward the door.

Panic shot through Ryder as he realized they were headed back in. With no time to hide, he leaned against the wall of the castle and waited as if he’d been there all evening.

“Ye’re too soft on her,” the younger lad chimed in. “Ye’re goin’ to spoil her.”

Ryder held his breath as Morgana came around the corner and stopped the second her eyes fell on him. Fear lingered behind her gaze, yet she said nothing.

“Laird McKenzie,” the twins greeted in unison, before quickly scrambling to get back into the castle. There was no masking their horror as they darted for the door and disappeared.

“Did ye want me to stick around for a moment?” the young lad asked.

The defiance in his tone grated on Ryder’s nerves, but there was something about his loyalty to his sister that sparked a flicker of admiration.

“Ye should go; it is clear my husband has a few words for me this evenin’,” Morgana answered, her voice trembling with fear.

“Aye, it’s what he has to say and how he says it that I’m a bit worried about,” her brother insisted.

Ryder cleared his throat as he pushed off the wall. “Ye’ve got nothin’ to fear from me, lad,” he said. “Nor does yer sister.”

“Aye, well, ye mark her, and I promise I’ll find a way to mark ye, understand?”

“ Ronnie .” Morgana hissed the name like a curse. If she was horrified before, terror now clung to her like a cloak. “Ye have nay right to talk so rudely. Apologize and take yer leave.”

Ryder arched an eyebrow and studied the young lad as he fought the urge to snap. It was a lesson he had to learn one too many times and still could never master it.

“I apologize,” Ronnie said through gritted teeth, keeping his head low.

Ryder didn’t say a word, only gave him a nod.

The gesture was all Ronnie was waiting for to take off for the castle.

“See that the girls go to bed and have the servants draw them a bath,” Morgana called after him, just as the door closed behind him. “He heard me. I’m sure he heard me.”

“Those children walk all over ye,” Ryder remarked. He tilted his head and stepped in front of her. “Ye ken that, right?”

“They do nay such thing,” she huffed as she sidestepped and started for the door.

Ryder shook his head as he stepped in front of her once again, stopping her from reaching for the doorknob.

“Ye werenae at dinner tonight,” he stated, holding her eyes.

There was a certain delight in watching her bosom rise and fall with each quick breath she took.

“Aye, I was with my family. Eloise was practically traumatized by the guards and hadnae said a word in two days. Poppy thought it would be best if I spent time with her to let her ken all was well.”

“I cannae fault ye for skippin’ out on me this evening,” Ryder conceded as he plucked a strand of her hair off her collarbone. “I saw ye there in the garden, with them. How ye all seemed so close.”

“After everythin’ we’ve been through, it’s a blessin’ we still are together under one roof. For a moment there, their future as well as my own was uncertain.”

“And what do ye think of yer future now?” Ryder asked.

He knew the question was intrusive, yet the need to know was all-consuming. He found himself gravitating ever closer to her.

“I suppose every day I wake up with my head still attached to my neck is a good day,” Morgana drawled. “I ken there’s some who still want to see me dead.”

“They’ll nae dare touch ye,” Ryder said with such conviction that the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. “Nay one can touch what is mine, or have ye nae learned that lesson yet?”

Morgana’s blue eyes flickered and danced as the moonlight shimmered in her eyes. She was such a beauty in the dim pale light. The warmth radiating from her seeped into him, arousing the needs and passions he’d buried for so long.

Dropping the lock of her hair, Ryder clenched his jaw and stepped back. Her floral scent swirled around him as he tried to clear his head, but there was no escaping from her. Each moment that passed, he was trapped in a cage of her intoxicating presence.

“Ye made yer point clear enough,” she answered. Her voice was raspy, as if each word scraped against the back of her throat. “I dinnae need another lesson on the matter.”

A flicker of defiance danced in her eyes as she stared up at him. Her long lashes batted like wings of a butterfly as she pressed her hand to his chest.

The heat from her palm ignited flames Ryder no longer wanted to try and tame. He was tired of being so calculated and rigid as iron. He wanted to taste the forbidden fruit of Morgana’s lips and explore the wilderness of her body.

“Are ye sure?” he whispered, trying to keep the longing from his voice.

His fingertips grazed her bare skin, brushing back the locks of hair curling around her neck. Her smooth skin taunted him. How he wanted to run his tongue along the curves of her body and taste every delectable thing she had to offer.

“My Laird, what is it ye want?” she whispered.

Her want laced her words and stoked the flames of yearning deep within him.

“Ye ken what I want,” he answered as he leaned closer to her. He could not resist her intoxicating scent or teasing embrace. “I want ye.”

Without another word, Ryder cupped his hand around Morgana’s neck, holding her head secure and steady. Keeping his eyes open, he crushed his lips to hers and swallowed the protest on her tongue. His arms curled around her small frame as his body twitched and ached for her.

“Oof,” Morgana gasped as he pinned her against the wall.

A wicked grin stretched his lips as he kissed the length of her neck. How delicious she tasted, sweet and savory. But it was the way her body quivered against his that stirred him.

He grabbed her leg and wrapped it around his hip, wishing there weren’t so many skirts to hike up.

“My Laird… please,” Morgana breathed.

There was a flicker in her eyes that Ryder could not decipher. Was it lust that was burning within her? Or hatred? How the two looked so familiar to him.

“What?” he croaked, fighting back the urges ripping through him like a pack of wild dogs.

Her scent swirled around him, making his head foggy and his thoughts clustered, one longing being woven through him as if he were a wicker basket.

“We cannae be doin’ this,” she whispered.

A wave of hope rose within him as he leaned back just enough to read her expression. Expecting the sting of rejection to prick his heart, Ryder found no such pain crippling him. She hadn’t outright rejected him. Merely said they couldn’t get so close where they were.

An idea came to him. Without a word, he grabbed Morgana, throwing her over his shoulder as if she were nothing but a sack of flour. He slapped her firm buttocks, causing her to thrash and kick. Her feeble attempt to free herself only added kindle to the lust raging within him.

“Ye brute, put me down,” she hissed.

As much as she wanted to sound stern and forceful, she put up as much of a fight as a church mouse. Ryder moved swiftly to the castle doors, keeping to the shadows when he could.

“Ryder, I’m nae playin’. Put me down.”

Paying no heed to his wife, Ryder moved with purpose through the empty corridors, making a beeline for his study. They pushed through the sturdy oak doors of the study.

“Ye said we couldnae do anythin’ outside, so I’ve brought ye inside,” he said as he set her on her feet before the grand fireplace in his study. The orange glow of the fire on her skin was enchanting. It was as if she had become an angel of light and power.

Morgana’s gaze remained fixed on the fire, bewitched by its hypnotic dance.

Ryder moved to her. He held his breath as he dared to brush a loose strand of hair over her shoulder. Any excuse for him to touch her, to be near her. He couldn’t understand the impulse, the need to be close. It was like she was his center of gravity he’d never be able to escape.

“Tell me, Morgana, what do ye want?” he whispered, his teeth grazing her earlobe. “I’ll give ye whatever ye want.”

His fingers curled around the nape of her neck. The way she pressed her head into the palm of his hand, so trusting, so tender made his heart flutter.

“I dinnae ken,” she answered, her voice lighter than candlelight on a windy day.

“Perhaps I could suggest something,” he said and pulled her to him once again.

And as he crushed his lips to hers, her arms draped over his shoulders and pulled him closer.