Page 8 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
“What will ye get out of this arrangement?” Morgana asked.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Let’s just say that kennin’ that they’ll never get what they want is one satisfaction. The pleasure I’ll get in watchin’ them bow to ye as their lady will be the icin’ on the cake. So, what say ye?”
“Is that seriously yer idea of a weddin’ proposal?” Morgana scoffed, feeling a bit put out by the whole arrangement.
But what choice did she have? If she wanted to stay with her family without having to worry about her safety, being the lady of the clan was her only option.
“Is this yer way of agreein’?”
Morgana pursed her lips, racking her brain for an escape. But the Laird had backed her into a corner. Her breath hitched as the tension mounted.
“FIRE!”
The scream pierced the tension, drawing her attention to the door.
“Did ye hear that?” she whispered, wondering if she was perhaps hearing things.
The sharp cry echoed through the corridors, bouncing off the walls like a bullet aimed directly at her.
“Aye,” the Laird said as the scream came once again.
“FIRE!”
3
“Orella,” the Laird gasped as his eyes snapped to the door. The cries of the healer echoed through the corridor, making it easy for Ryder to find her.
The sharp cry for help caused Morgana’s ears to perk up, and panic shot through her.
“God’s mercy what now? Ye, stay here. I cannae have ye runnin’ about.”
“I’ll do nay such thing’,” Morgana huffed as shifted her weight and folded her arms over her chest defiantly.
Her skirts rustled softly around her ankles as she stepped eagerly in his path, blocking his way. Determination flashed in her eyes like a spark of flint dragged across stone.
“Ye’ll do as ye’re told,” the Laird growled, his fingers easily curling around her shoulders as if she were nothing more than a basket of laundry that needed to be pushed aside. “Now, stay put.”
Morgana pressed her lips into a tight line and darted to the door. She didn’t care that she was risking his wrath; she wasn’t going to be left behind.
“I’ve worked with healers, I can help,” she insisted.
Ryder’s eyebrows knitted together as he considered her demand.
“Fine. But if ye get hurt, ye cannae blame me. Now, let’s go before the whole castle burns to the ground. Or is that what ye want?”
“I would never want that,” Morgana said as she followed him down the hallway.
“Ye could have fooled me with as much time as ye wasted carryin’ on like ye did,” he shot back.
The cry for help grew louder. The air grew thick with a rancid smell that invaded Morgana’s nostrils. It was nearly as bad as a skunk and came with a palpable sense of foreboding that settled deep in her bones.
As they turned the corner, Morgana let out a gasp. Flames licked up the walls of the storage room and the doorway.
“Please, there’s nay way out!” Orella cried out as smoke billowed out of the storeroom.
“Hold on!” the Laird shouted.
Morgana glanced around, looking for something to use to put out the flames. Her heart clenched as she glanced at the finely woven tapestry hanging from the window.
