Page 75 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
Morgana glanced over her shoulder to find the cook coming in. Had the cat tipped her off?
She didn’t have time to find out. She bolted, taking her chances with the open field and the safety of the trees in the distance.
“Now, come back here. What do ye think ye’re doin’?”
The cook’s voice shattered the tranquility of the night. Morgana cast a glance over her shoulder, praying that no one pursuing her.
As if she could be so lucky.
Despite the head start, Morgana was no match for the guard chasing after her through the night. Surely Ryder would have a few things to say to her back at the castle. But only if she got caught.
With a new sense of determination, Morgana ran until the muscles in her legs burned. Her skirts whipped around her ankles, threatening to trip her.
It didn’t take long for her steps to slow down, feeling as if she were trekking through mud. Despair came over her as she realized she had miscalculated the distance to the trees. There was no way she was going to reach them before the guard caught up to her.
Her sides ached, forcing her to bend over her knees. The air wasn’t coming in the way she needed it.
“Ye’ll stop, or so help me, I’ll run my blade through yer heart.”
It was Ryder’s voice, his threat, and she knew better than to test him. She dropped to the ground in defeat and pushed her hood off her head. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she caught a glimpse of her husband’s approaching figure.
Ryder’s eyes widened as he skidded to a stop.
“Morgana? But…” Realization dawned on him in an instant, shifting his mood and stance. “Ye were goin’ to Lochcairn. And do yerself a favor”—he snatched her by the wrist, forcing her to her feet—“dinnae lie to me.”
“Aye,” Morgana panted as her knees buckled. She had no strength left to spare, nothing to remain on her feet. She had used up everything she had to escape. “I was goin’ to Lochcairn.”
She didn’t have to look up to feel the rage oozing off Ryder. His searing gaze bored into her.
She licked her dry lips as her eyes flicked to his. There, in their depths, she spotted something she had not expected—longing. It burned like an inferno, consuming the anger she had stirred within him.
“Why?” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Why must ye disobey me? Did I nae tell ye there would be consequences to such actions?”
“Ye did,” Morgana answered, keeping her voice as low and sweet as she could.
Ryder’s lips parted. There was a war raging inside him, and she could see it spilling over. His breath hitched as his gaze drifted from her eyes to her heaving bosom.
And as his eyes darkened, she gathered her courage and asked, “So what will it be, My Laird? Hot oil or the rack?”
26
“Ye’re a dangerous minx,” Ryder said through gritted teeth.
Her pert breasts rose and fell quickly. He wondered if her ragged breathing had anything to do with how much he wanted her.
Could she tell how she drove him mad with desire? Did she see the flames she stoked just by batting her long lashes at him?
The fact that she tried to escape only set off his instincts. It was as if he were born to run after that woman.
He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head. There was no way he could mask the grin stretching his lips. Their banter and teasing for the past week had been driving him insane. And the fact that she just made him feel like a hound chasing its prey ignited his passions.
“To hell with it,” he muttered, casting off all his inhibitions and reservations.
His arms banded around her, and before she could protest, he hoisted her over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” Morgana huffed. “I am perfectly capable of walkin’ on my own.”
“Aye, in the wrong direction,” Ryder scoffed. “I’ve given ye quarter. Was even a bit tender with ye a few times. But ye’ve disrespected me one too many times. I’m goin’ to make an example out of ye.”
