Page 2 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
Cohen had been an ally during her courtship with the late Laird McKenzie, always a friendly face among the clan. Yet, deep concern creased his brow and tightened his eyes.
Morgana held her breath as she waited for news of the council.
“We dinnae have much time,” he whispered hurriedly. “The council has convened.”
“And…?” Ronnie prompted, pulling himself up to his feet.
“Believe me when I say that I did everythin’ I could,” Cohen mumbled as Morgana’s eyes flicked to the guards entering the cell.
“Step aside,” one of the guards barked as he jabbed a wooden rod at Tormod, pushing him away from the door.
Morgana’s heart pounded in her ears as the air in the room thickened.
“Watch it—what do ye think ye’re doin’?!” Ronnie bellowed as the guards grabbed Poppy by the arms.
“Morgana!” she cried as she was pried from Morgana. “Nay, let me go!”
“The council will spare yer family.” Cohen’s voice rose over the chaos as Poppy squirmed and thrashed to free herself from the guards’ grip. “I convinced them that the children are innocent.”
Relief replaced Morgana’s concern. She let out a sigh as every muscle in her body relaxed.
“Thank ye,” she breathed.
Cohen stepped closer to her and wrapped his fingers around her arm, sympathy lingering in his gaze.
“I ken ye didnae do what they say ye did,” he said as he escorted her out of the dungeons.
The sound of her siblings’ pleas pummeled her like battering rams against a mountain. She didn’t dare glance over her shoulder. Seeing the pain on their faces would shatter her resolve.
No, if she was going to die, she’d meet death head-on, as an equal.
“Where are ye takin’ me?” she asked.
“The council decided that ye’re to be hung by the neck till dead,” Cohen answered, his somber baritone voice filling the corridor, his eyes downcast.
“Ye’re takin’ me to the gallows.”
“If ye ask me, that’s far better than bein’ beheaded in the courtyard,” he mumbled through gritted teeth.
“Was that yer idea of mercy?” Morgana asked.
Cohen’s fingers tightened around her arm as they turned the corner. The light from the torches danced along the stone walls, and the smell of death wafted around Morgana, taunting her. The door opened, spilling dawn’s early light into the bowels of the castle.
As Morgana stepped into the courtyard, she lifted a hand to shield her eyes. There was no telling how long she’d been trapped in the dungeons. With no natural light to indicate the hour, it could have been anywhere from days to a week. Now that she felt the sun on her face and heard the blue jay squawk as it fluttered by, she wished she had more time.
“I’m surprised the council didnae set the gallows up near the study. Surely there are a few men itchin’ to see me hang,” she muttered as she heard the clamor of heavy boots behind them.
Glancing over her shoulder, Morgana spotted guards decked out in their finest battle gear marching toward her. It wasn’t their menacing presence that disturbed her, but the lack of people who’d come to watch her die.
She didn’t know if she should be pleased that no one wanted to witness her last moments or pity herself because no one in her life would come to bid her farewell.
“They didnae want to disturb the mournin’ period,” Cohen explained. “The gallows have been set up?—”
“Near the gate,” Morgana supplied as she spotted the crude wooden platform, along with the rope hanging from the arch of the gateway.
“I’ve made arrangements for ye to be buried in the next town over,” Cohen said. “I’ll nae let them defile yer body.”
Morgana’s heart fluttered wildly with each step. Despite only having Cohen at her side, she knew there’d be no point in running. Fleeing would only make them think she was guilty, and then what would become of her family?
