Page 48 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
She held her breath as she looked away from Ryder and studied Orella’s face for some clues. But the only thing she could see was the deep lines of concern and worry on the woman’s face.
“Ye both do,” Orella answered. “Until ye have an heir, the council will keep lookin’ for a way to get rid of ye. And the warnin’ goes for yer husband, too. The council isnae happy with the way he has been runnin’ things. In fact, over half of them dinnae even recognize him as the Laird.”
“Then who are they followin’?” Morgana asked.
“Nay one. They’re split. Right now, that works in yer favor. But there will come a time when they’ll band together. They always find common ground; it’s what makes Clan McKenzie strong. So, ye need to find the killer or produce an heir before that happens.”
Morgana nodded her head, her chest tightening with concern. She pulled in a long, deep breath to steady her nerves.
Surely Orella’s news would be something Ryder would want to hear. But how to broach the topic was beyond her skills. There was no doubt Ryder wouldn’t be pleased with the news. And the likelihood of him already knowing made it almost not worth bringing up.
“I’ll talk to Ryder about this the next time we have dinner together,” Morgana said, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Are ye sure ye want to do that? The Laird has never taken bad news well. I doubt he’ll want to hear that he’s got a target on his back.”
“Somethin’ tells me that this sort of news is exactly what he wants to hear,” Morgana trailed off as her eyes flicked back to the window in Ryder’s study.
The place he had just occupied was now dark and empty. Morgana felt a pang in her chest. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was the sting of rejection.
She turned her gaze back to her friend. “Somethin’ tells me that he already kens about that.”
“Wouldnae surprise me,” Orella murmured. “He kens everythin’ that goes on within these walls. Still, even the Laird needs loyal people in his life. If he doesnae ken that his life is in danger, then someone ought to tell him. I’m just glad it’s ye rather than me.”
15
Ryder shifted in his seat as his gaze drifted to the door. Every footstep echoing down the hallway made his heart rate quicken.
He swallowed hard. When did he ever allow a woman to get under his skin in such a manner? Yet here he was, anxious to see her once again and completely at her mercy.
She wouldn’t dare stand him up again. The clock continued to tick, dragging out the evening as if it were a piece of taffy being pulled by the local candy shop.
“Ye told her that dinner was bein’ served, did ye nae?” Ryder asked the servant by the door.
The bowed-legged man gave an apologetic shrug. “Her Ladyship kens what time it is, My Laird. I think she’s makin’ ye wait on purpose,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.
Ryder’s eyes narrowed. The idea of being stood up again stirred his irritation. Sure, Morgana had missed dinner with him before, but she had promised she wouldn’t do it again. They had an agreement, after all.
However, unable to stand the wait any longer, Ryder shot to his feet.
“See that the food is kept warm,” he instructed as he made a beeline for the door.
He didn’t know exactly what he was going to say to Morgana that he hadn’t already explained before. The first time she missed dinner was intentional. She was, after all, caring for her siblings. But what excuse would she give him this time? How many times would she use them as an excuse?
Thoughts of betrayal swirled about his head, tossing his resolution from one point to the next as if he were on a ship in the middle of a storm.
Just as he reached for the handle, the door swung open, nearly slamming into him. Morgana gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Ryder arched an eyebrow as he steadied himself, lest he collide with the servant.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, truly,” Morgana said as she reached for him. Her arms wrapped around his waist so tightly that it made him chuckle.
Ryder studied her for a moment. She held him up with steely determination, as if she would topple over should she fail. Ryder shifted and spun her around in a flurry of excitement, before lowering her onto her feet as if nothing had happened.
“And pray tell, what are ye sorry for?” he asked as he made his way back to the table. “Yer tardiness? Or spendin’ the day with Orella? I really dinnae see what ye like about that woman. Granted, she’s a fine healer, but to be enamored of Cohen… I truly pity the lass.”
“Is this how we are to spend our evening? Ye’re plannin’ on insultin’ all the friends I have here?” Morgana snapped, stomping toward her seat.
“Nae all of them—just the ones who irk me,” Ryder answered, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Even though Cohen irked him, it was clear the way it would play out. People would think him a jealous man, and if the servants hadn’t already been walking on eggshells around him, they certainly would be after.
