Page 49 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
No, he wouldn’t let Morgana’s friendship with Orella bother him.
Let her have companionship… as long as it’s with me.
As evil as the idea was, Ryder savored it. How lovely it would be for Morgana to be only his. Without her siblings taking up her time and without the council harping on about an heir.
The very thought made him want to roll his eyes. But in the back of his mind, he could hear it. A small voice whispering to him about a life he could have if only he’d drop the ruse.
He shook his head, hoping to push the thoughts out. But alas, as he held the chair for Morgana and watched her sit, he felt a powerful urge to claim her. The feeling was purely physical. It could have been the floral scent that wafted to his nose and tormented his senses. Or perhaps it was the way her body shifted and swayed as she sat. How he wanted her to move above him like that.
“Well, perhaps if the Laird would permit me to leave the castle,” Morgana said. Ryder arched an eyebrow at her. “Then I might get a chance to make better friends.”
“Better friends? Like the harlots and brood of vipers that congregate in Lochcairn?”
He knew it was a cheap shot, but he wasn’t going to let the moment pass him by, not when he’d spent the last twenty minutes pining for her.
“I already said I was sorry about that,” Morgana huffed as the servants rushed into the dining room with trays of food.
Ryder’s stomach growled suddenly, making him forget about his grievances. The only thing that mattered now was getting food into his belly.
“Aye,” he answered.
Her agitation piqued his interest. Now he wanted to know not only what had delayed her but also what had gotten her into such a state.
“Worried about yer sister? I wish there was somethin’ that I could tell ye to settle yer nerves, but I’ve heard nothin’. What about ye? Surely, ye’ve heard somethin’ about her, have ye nae?”
The shock on her face was evident. For a moment, Ryder wondered if bringing up Feya was a good idea after all.
Morgana rolled her shoulders back as she pushed the food around on her plate. “I havenae heard a word. And I have nay intentions of goin’ back to Lochcairn. Ye made it quite clear what would happen if ye catch me in that town again. And I’ll tell ye right now, I’ll nae cross that path with ye.”
“Mhm,” Ryder murmured, still uncertain if he could trust her.
As much as he wanted to, there was still something gnawing at him that made him even more suspicious.
“What?” she huffed, shifting in her seat.
Was it pride that seemed to nail her to the spot?
“Nothin’,” Ryder answered, trying to hide his smirk but failing.
Why did he find her so amusing? There was nothing funny about the situation.
Ryder pulled in a quick breath. That was it—annoyance and ire. He couldn’t place those emotions before, but now that he recognized them, they rolled off her like the mist of the ocean crashing against a lighthouse in winter.
“Are ye sure? Because from the moment I stepped into the room, ye’ve had somethin’ against me. So, pray tell, what offense have I caused ye today?”
“Now why unleash yer venom on me? What have I done but open my door? Should I have consulted my crystal ball to figure out how I should answer the door, when it was ye who came late?”
“And there it is,” Morgana scoffed, pushing her plate away. “So yer dinner is a bit colder than usual. Ye ken that there are people out there who need help and that the world doesnae revolve around ye?”
Ryder’s eyebrows shot up as he calmly placed his napkin next to his plate. Every nerve in his body tingled and ached for release. He inhaled deeply, focusing on what vexed him. Morgana’s harsh, unwarranted ire was certainly at the top of his list.
“And this is why I dinnae want ye talkin’ to Orella,” he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I dinnae see what issues ye have with her,” she said. “If ye’d just give her a chance, ye might like her.”
“I doubt it.”
Morgana glared at him. “And why is that?”
