Page 28 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
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 certainlynota 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.
