Page 12 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
The Laird nodded his head and licked his lips. “As long as ye’re with thetwoof them.”
“Of course. But is there somethin’ ye despise about Cohen?”
“I harbor nay ill will toward him, so long as he remembers nae to touch what is mine,” he growled.
The rumble in his voice rattled something primal within Morgana. It was as if he was speaking directly to her soul, yet she still didn’t understand.
His gaze darkened, and his fingertips traced her collarbone, feeling like hot pokers raking across her cold skin. Her heart skipped a beat, and little goosebumps rose and scattered over her flesh as she suppressed a shiver.
He was intense and feral, leaving no question in her mind as to what his words meant—From the moment ye said ye’d marry me, ye belonged to me.
4
Ryder shifted his weight from foot to foot before tugging down his vest, ensuring the wrinkles were smoothed out. He stood at the altar, his limbs numb as if he’d spent the entire winter hunting and there wasn’t a fire hot enough to get his blood pumping again.
“I still cannae understand why ye’re goin’ through with this weddin’,” Cohen whispered beside him as they waited for Morgana to make her entrance. “The council doesnae like this. Nae one bit.”
“The council is gettin’ exactly what they want from me,” Ryder hissed, trying not to draw the priest’s attention. “I’m marryin’ to give them an heir.”
“But Morgana? Surely ye could find another lass? Ye ken Nathan willnae rest until he proves to ye that she murdered yer faither.”
“Ye willnae speak of him in my presence ever again, is that clear?” Ryder said calmly. He didn’t have to raise his voice to get his threat across.
“Aye, of course. But I’m just sayin’ that Nathan is on the council, and he willnae stop. He’s like a hound. Once he’s on the trail of somethin’…”
“He’s loyal, but to the previous Laird.”
“I still dinnae think ye ken the sort of pot ye’re stirrin’ by marryin’ her.”
“I’ve made my bed, and I’ll lie in it,” Ryder said. “I’ve picked her, she agreed—there’s nothin’ more that needs to be said.”
“Are ye sure this is who ye want to be tied to? What if she turns out to be the killer and takes yer life in the middle of the night?”
Ryder chuckled darkly as he turned to face Cohen. “We are talkin’ about the same Morgana, are we nae? The same lass who’s nay bigger than a pony? The lass I can hoist over my shoulder and carry away if I want? I dinnae think I need to worry about her.”
“Yer faither was a large man, and still, she’s rumored to have killed him.”
Ryder narrowed his eyes as he noticed the priest pointedly feigning disinterest in the conversation. The pleasant smile he had plastered on his lips vanished.
“And tell me, how did she dispose of him? Please, I’d like to ken. After all, now is the perfect time to bring up such things,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from each word.
“I’m merely speakin’ my mind,” Cohen mumbled.
“And when I’m interested in what ye have to say, or think, I’ll ask. Until then, ye’ll keep yer mouth shut, and ye’ll steer clear of my wife,” Ryder warned.
He clenched his jaw and glared menacingly at the man-at-arms beside him.
Cohen’s eyes flickered with a fear that Ryder understood well. It wasn’t an admission of guilt, but fear of the consequences of disobeying his orders.
Before Cohen could protest further, music filled the courtyard. Ryder’s eyes drifted to the open space between the rows of seats. The congregation was small, but what did he expect? It wasn’t like this was the wedding of the century or anything.
And yet, suddenly, Heaven opened the sky, separated the clouds as if God himself was moving them out of the way. Beams of brilliant light flooded the spaceand there she was. His heart stopped.
Morgana drifted down the narrow aisle toward him as if she were on a cloud.
For a brief moment, Ryder thought he had seen his mother’s ghost walking behind her.
“Ye’re enchantin’,” he whispered as he took her hand and drew her closer to the priest.
