Page 4 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
Morgana’s heart stuttered as fear ripped through her. She dared to hoist herself up and steal a peak at him. Holding her breath, her eyes flicked to the stranger. His gaze was dark and austere, piercing through her.
Here was a man who quite literally held her future in his hands. All he had to do was squeeze hard enough and she’d snap like a twig.
“Justice must be served,” Nathan growled. “An eye for an eye.”
“Aye, and it will be, as soon as I can sort it out. Till then, the lass goes to my study,” the stranger insisted.
Out of the corner of her eye, Morgana could see Cohen rushing toward her, eagerly waiting for the stranger to release her.
“Yer study? I dinnae think I heard ye right,” Nathan scoffed as he stepped forward, ready to draw his blade.
“I’m certain I didnae stutter. Now, do as I say,” the stranger ordered.
No one moved but Cohen.
His hands curled around Morgana’s arms.
“Come along, quickly,” he urged, dragging her off the wooden platform. “We need nae tarry here.”
“Who was that?” Morgana asked as she stole a glimpse over her shoulder.
Her eyes fell on the stranger, lingering on him a moment too long. He was tall, with a well-trimmed beard and deep chocolate-brown eyes. There was an air of arrogance and pride about him that caught her by surprise. How could one look so formidable yet be able to handle her with such care and tenderness?
“Ryder Gordon,” Cohen answered, a tinge of fear lacing his voice.
“Who?” Morgana asked as she caught even the stoic Nathan cowering under the stranger’s commands.
“The new Laird McKenzie.”
2
Goosebumps rose all over Morgana’s skin as her thoughts lingered on the stranger.
He was ruggedly handsome, despite his icy facade. And the longer she thought about it, the more resemblance she spotted. His nose was slightly hooked, just as his father’s had been. But his almond-shaped eyes gave a sort of kindness to his glare that made Morgana wonder just what sort of man he truly was.
“Morgana, ye must listen to me very carefully,” Cohen said, his voice snapping her out of the whirlwind of her thoughts.
She exhaled sharply as he pulled her into the shadows. Her heart pounded as their hushed whispers echoed like thunder through the empty corridor.
“Ye must keep yer wits about ye. But most importantly, plead yer case to him.”
“I dinnae understand. Who is this Ryder?”
“He’s the Laird’s estranged son,” Cohen answered as he leaned closer.
Morgana watched as his eyes roamed over her, checking for any injuries that he couldn’t see before. She grabbed his hands, trying to catch his eye.
“Judgin’ from the way everyone responded to him, I take it he’s nae liked,” she noted, hoping to pry some information out of him.
The panic was evident on his brow as beads of sweat glistened under the flickering torchlight.
“I willnae pretend to ken anythin’ about the man,” Cohen murmured. He craned his neck to watch for movement in the hallway.
Morgana resisted the urge to laugh at the gesture. His paranoia was almost comical, considering they’d hear someone coming well before seeing them.
“He was cast out well before I became his faither’s man-at-arms. But there are rumors.”
“There are always rumors,” Morgana pointed out as she stepped out of the shadows and continued down the hallway. “Am I nae livin’ proof of that? Half the council wants to see me dead, thinkin’ I killed the Laird. The other half are too old to care.”
