Page 61 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
Ryder couldn’t help but smirk. Even when she was losing, she had a spirit of endurance and perseverance. She was a survivor, just like him.
“I’m supposed to be the one who worries about others.”
“I dinnae worry about ye,” Ryder said as he slowed his horse. “Ye’re far too independent for me to have to worry about ye. I’m certain whatever trouble ye get yerself in, ye’ll find yer way out of it.”
“I’m so glad ye have such faith in me,” Morgana said, grinning from ear to ear as she overtook him. “But it would seem I’m the one about to win.”
Ryder laughed as he watched her speed past him in a blaze of glory. Or, at least it would have been if she were going the right way. But who was he to stop her? Shifting in his saddle, he wondered just how far she’d get before realizing she was on her own.
He licked his lips and watched the valley floor for her.
Just as predicted, she charged through the shrubs like a banshee claiming her prize, before he realized she wasn’t in control. The reins flapped down the length of the horse’s neck. Morgana clung to the saddle horn for dear life.
Without hesitation, Ryder charged down the hill, disregarding the angle of the slope. It could have been a sheer cliff and he would have charged down it.
“Easy,” he murmured as he guided his horse with skill and precision. “Ye’ve done this before. Remember the banks of Sherilock in Cork? I found ye in Ireland; I can always take ye back, and then maybe the Scottish soil willnae seem too dreary to ye.”
His heart pounded as his horse slid down the rugged terrain. Leaving a cloud of dust behind him, his horse jumped to flatter terrain. Without missing a beat, Ryder charged forward, refusing to let any time slip. Morgana was but a few leagues ahead, and if he urged his horse faster, he’d be at her side in no time.
“Come on, just a wee further. Ye can do it,” he encouraged.
Morgana glanced over her shoulder. The fear in her eyes only drove his confidence higher. There was no way he was going to lose her to some wild horse. Riding hard, he came up next to her horse.
“Get the reins,” Morgana called as she dared once more to reach for the wild leather straps whipping her.
The crack of the reins shot through Ryder like lightning crashing between the flat cliffs.
“Let go!” he shouted as he reached for her.
There was no time to spare. In a split second, Ryder wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her from the saddle. Her horse veered off as he lowered her in front of him. Morgana clung to him, burying her face in his chest as he slowed his horse.
“Ye’re safe now,” he whispered.
He cupped her face in his hands and drew her eyes to his. It pained him to see the shimmer of tears and fear in her eyes.
He brushed back her wild locks and inspected her further. “It’s all right now. Ye’re safe.”
“I had lost ye in the grove of trees. Somethin’ in there spooked the horse. She took off like we were bein’ hunted by somethin’ unseen. And that’s when I lost the reins…” Morgana let out a shaky breath.
Ryder schooled his features to calm. She was far too distraught at the moment for him to express any other emotion.
“Ye’re safe now. We’ve stopped,” he reassured her when her gaze darted to her horse, who became nothing but a speck in the distance. “Dinnae worry about the horse, it’ll come back to the castle.”
“How can ye be so sure?” Morgana asked.
“Morgana, what do ye think is more important to me? Ye, or some horse I can buy at the market, or trade with any other farmer around here?” Ryder asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Carefully, he brushed his thumb over her cheek, clearing away any evidence of her distress.
“But—” she started to protest.
Ryder shook his head before planting a kiss on the top of her head. With the thrill of the moment finally ebbing, he exhaled in relief. How easily the situation could have turned into something far worse. He found his heart pounding with joy and fear. What if something happened to her?
He shuddered at the thought. He had grown to care for her more than he had expected. Not seeing her around the castle, or never hearing her laughter again, would be dreary. The thought was inconceivable.
“I dinnae want to hear it,” he said as he slipped off the saddle and reached up for a dishelved Morgana. She was flustered and timid with her body as rigid as iron.
“Yer goin’ to have to calm down a bit before he continue for the castle. The horse is just as frightened as ye are,” he said as Morgana slid into his wide-open arms. “There, on solid ground for a moment. But I dinnae think that ye’ll be ridin’ on yer on goin’ back.”
