Page 25 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
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.
