Page 97 of Taken By the Ruthless Highlander
“I ken ye have questions for me,” Feya began as Ronnie helped her to a chair.
“Aye.” Ryder cast a glance at Laird Dougal.
What brought the man to his lands? Why was he escorting Feya? And why did it look like there was something between the two of them?
From what Ryder had been told, Laird Dougal was a vicious and cunning man. If it came down to a battle of wits, he doubted he would come out on top.
“Where did ye want me to start?” Feya asked, just as Ronnie handed her a dram of whiskey. “Thank ye, love.”
“Let’s start with where ye’ve been,” Ryder said.
He ran his fingers through his beard, refusing to take his eyes off Laird Dougal.
“I’ve been under the care of Laird Dougal,” Feya began, her eyes flicking to the man in question. “But it’s the reason why I was brought under his care that should concern ye, Laird McKenzie. I watched Cohen Hughes slay yer faither.”
“Come again?” Ryder said, his voice firm.
The last thing he needed was to show any emotion or weakness before Laird Dougal. He had to appear strong despite the turbulent waters threatening to pull him under.
“It was Cohen on that balcony with the late Laird McKenzie. And it was his blade that slit yer faither’s throat. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he spotted me, and I’ve been on the run ever since.”
“And Laird Dougal?” Ryder asked, giving the beast of a man a pointed look. “What is his role in all of this?”
Feya pulled in a deep breath. “It’s complicated. But I’ll say this—Laird Dougal isnae an enemy of Clan McKenzie. Ye’re family now, and family sticks together.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Ronnie piped up, raising his glass and downing its contents in one gulp before anyone could protest.
Ryder smirked at his antics. After all, it was a means to celebrate Feya’s return.
“My Laird,” Felix panted as he burst into the room. The urgency in his eyes instantly put Ryder on edge.
Ryder didn’t have to hear what his man-at-arms had to say; he already knew.
“She’s nae here,” he bit out.
“Aye. The servants say they saw her in the stables with Cohen nae more than half an hour ago,” Felix said.
Terror ripped through Ryder. “Direction!” he growled. “Give me a direction!”
His voice thundered through the room and rattled every pane of glass as if he controlled the fires from hell.
He had known Cohen wasn’t to be trusted. It was the reason he had picked Felix as his man-at-arms. There was no loyalty between them—never had been.
“South,” Felix answered.
Ryder bolted out of the room.
“I’m comin’ with ye!” Ronnie shouted, hurrying after him.
“I dinnae care who comes, but I’m goin’ to get Morgana,” Ryder declared with such conviction that it shattered the illusion he had been living under.
He was in love with his wife. The very thought of a hair of her head being out of place terrified him. To him, she wasn’t accused of anything less than stealing his heart.
“And where exactly are ye goin’? There are plenty of cottages and shacks. We dinnae have time to search each one of them. We’ve got to be smart about this,” Felix called after him.
Ryder skidded to a halt and spun around, his fury flaring as he glanced over the man’s shoulder and spotted a figure coming down the corridor.
“Nathan!” he barked.
