Page 6 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the shadows shift. She jumped, her hands clutching at her chest as if she’d be able to hold in her frantically beating heart.
Intense brown eyes bored into her from the portrait hanging over the door. The late Laird McKenzie glared at her as if he, too, blamed her for his death.
“Imbeciles. The lot of them.”
Morgana whipped her head around. Her eyes widened as the same rugged stranger that saved her from certain death stormed into the study. She followed him with her eyes as he made a beeline for his desk.
The glow from the fire glanced off a glass decanter, casting a small rainbow over the wood. It was such an unexpected, marvelous sight. In the dreariness of the study, a spark of hope flashed before her very eyes.
“Laird McKenzie,” a soft voice spoke, pulling Morgana out of her stupor.
“Aye, ye can put it over there,” the stranger grumbled.
Morgana caught the maid’s eye. The girl’s round face reminded her of her twin sisters, Poppy and Eloise.
Would she ever see them again? Where was the courage and determination she had when facing the gallows? How was it that she couldn’t muster an ounce when she needed it now?
“Leave,” the Laird barked, causing the maid to freeze and nearly drop the bowl. It clattered as she placed it clumsily on the table, the water in it almost sloshing over the rim. From her expression alone, it could have been acid or poison.
“Aye, Laird McKenzie,” the maid mumbled and darted out of the room.
The panic on her face and the hastiness of her steps reflected Morgana’s nerves. She swallowed hard as she watched the ruggedly handsome man glance over his shoulder to steal a glance at her. His gaze was direct and intimidating.
Whatever excuse Morgana had thought up grew wings and abandoned her faster than the servant exiting the room.
“Laird McKenzie,” she uttered, lowering to the floor in her best curtsy.
“Enough. Am I a saint or a king? Nay, nothin’ but the Laird of this steamin’ mess,” he huffed and leaned against his desk.
He folded his arms over his chest, as if they were logs on the river, rolling over one another in the turbulent current.
Morgana’s gaze fell to the floor as fear seeped into her very bones. There was no doubt in her mind that the council had explained why she was to hang. Her defense was weak, according to their ruling. So surely this was nothing more than a mere reprieve, a means of torture before she was executed.
“Nay, but forgive me if I’m a bit confused. Why spare my life? Surely ye’ve been told why I was out there,” she said, fiddling with her fingers.
Every nerve in her body tingled. She felt as if she were walking along a sharp cliff; one wrong move and she’d fall into the abyss below.
The Laird arched a suspicious eyebrow as he pushed off the desk. His presence seemed to fill the room as he stalked toward her.
Morgana wanted to flee, to try and escape, but where could she go that he couldn’t reach? The weight of Cohen’s blade in her pocket was reassuring, in a way.
Her mind skipped and danced through one scenario after another. She wondered whether she’d even have the guts to pull out the blade if the Laird attacked her. It was bad enough that she had been blamed for his father’s death, but to actually do it…
She didn’t think she had it in her.
“Step into the light,” the Laird ordered as he moved to the table where the maid had placed the bowl.
Morgana swallowed hard and did as she was commanded. There was no point in fighting. She was going to be killed one way or another. Perhaps the Laird enjoyed doing the deed with his bare hands.
Whether I die by the noose or his hand, I still die.
“Laird McKenzie.” She closed her eyes, accepting her fate. “For what it is worth, I didnae kill yer faither. I found him on that balcony—the life had already left his eyes.”
“I dinnae care.” His voice rattled her.
She hadn’t expected him to be so close. But there was no way she was going to open her eyes, not if he intended to draw his sword and run her through. She’d rather die without seeing it.
“How can ye say such a thing? The man was yer faither, was he nae?”
