Page 22 of Craved By a Highland Beast

If only she had made it here.

But she hadn’t. Cathleen was far away and Bonnie was alone in Castle Ruthven. She couldn’t talk to Evan or Laird Ruthven, naturally. The only person she could turn to was Alaric, but what would she tell him? The mere thought of discussing these strange feelings with him was mortifying, not only because she hardly knew the man, but also because he was Evan’s brother. No, he simply was not an option and the reality Bonnie had to accept was that she had to deal with her feelings alone.

There was no other explanation other than temporary insanity for the way Evan had behaved that night. It weighed on him until the break of dawn as he tossed and turned in his bed, the unfamiliar guest room providing him with no comfort even as lavish and cozy as it was.

How could he think it was a good idea to kiss Bonnie? How could he think even for a moment that entangling himself in that sort of relationship would end well for them both?

He had been lucky to nudge that candle to the floor. Had it not been for the flames, he had no doubt that he would have kissed her and made things awfully complicated for them all. His self-control had vanished in a rare moment of weakness, but he knew better now. He had to keep himself in check.

After a restless night and only a few hours of sleep, Evan prepared for the day and headed down to the great hall after asking several different guards and servants for directions. In the darkness of the precious night, the castle had seemed cavernous in its size and complexity, corridors shooting off towards all directions, and it wasn’t much different in the light of day. The only difference was that now Evan could see all the details of the castle—the carefully stacked stone walls, the colorful tapestries that decorated them, fluttering in the soft breeze, the paintings and precious trinkets that lined the halls. Generations of Ruthven rulers had left their mark upon the place and each of them seemed to be fonder of luxury than the next.

Castle MacGregor was neither small nor penurious and yet Evan and those before him had not felt the need for such obvious luxury. The castle he had inherited was large, well-kept, but the MacGregors preferred to keep their people fed than display their wealth on their walls.

Disgustin’ . . . but what shall anyone expect from a man like Ruthven?

His alliance with John Balliol had one goal and that was to gain as much wealth as he could, with no regard to the consequences. He was willing to betray the other clans for gold. He was willing to lead them all to ruin for personal gain.

Evan was already in a sour mood when he stepped foot in the great hall, where Ruthven, Alaric, and Bonnie already sat as the servants served them their breakfast—Ruthven at the head of the table with Bonnie and Alaric to his left and right. Evan walked straight to Alaric’s side and took the seat next to him with a curt greeting to them all, trying to ignore Ruthven’s cheerful voice as he welcomed him.

It was all an act. Ruthven didn’t want them there any more than they wanted to be there.

“I was tellin’ Miss MacLaren an’ Mister MacGregor that I regret nae welcomin’ ye last night,” said Ruthven as Evan took a bite from a piece of dried meat, though his appetite had yet to make an appearance. Simply looking at Ruthven seemed to ruin it entirely. “Unfortunately, I was occupied in clan matters an’ I couldnae attend yer welcome. Please, accept me apologies.”

Evan forced a tight smile on his lips, nodding once. “There is nae need fer an apology.”

He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of clan matters kept Ruthven so busy late at night; what else could it be other than something that had to do with John Balliol? Surely, any other matters could be discussed during the day, not needing the secrecy nightfall provided. Ruthven said nothing more on thematter, though. In fact, he said nothing more to Evan once he saw that he was forgiven. Instead, he turned to Bonnie with a sickly sweet smile that had Evan’s stomach churning.

“When yer council sent me yer likin’, the picture they chose didnae capture yer true beauty, Miss MacLaren. They promised me a bonnie wife but I didnae realize ye would be as bonnie as ye are.”

“Thank ye, Laird Ruthven,” said Bonnie with a smile of her own.

Evan gritted his teeth so hard that he feared he would crack a molar. He found Ruthven’s attempts at flattery as infuriating as they were pathetic, nothing but an empty effort to easily gain Bonnie’s favor.

“Is beauty all ye seek in a wife, Laird Ruthven?” Evan asked drily.

From the corner of his eye, Evan caught the murderous look Alaric was giving him, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. Bonnie, too, stared at him, though her look was one of surprise rather than rage.

As for Laird Ruthven, he turned that smile to Evan and responded without missing a beat, as though he had rehearsed every possible scenario of their interaction in his head.

“O’ course it isnae the only thing but it is a quite important one,” he said. “Ye wouldnae agree, Laird MacGregor? I’m certain beauty matters tae ye just as much.”

“What matters tae me is integrity,” Evan said, and even he didn’t know if they were still talking about wives. “Loyalty. Kindness. That is what is most important tae me.”

“Aye, aye,” said Laird Ruthven as he laughed good-naturedly, nodding along. “As it is tae everyone. But such things one can strive tae acquire. A beauty like Miss MacLaren’s is difficult tae find.”

Silence fell over the table for a few moments, not even the sound of cutlery breaking it since all of them had stopped eating. Alaric watched Evan carefully, certainly preparing to interrupt the conversation the moment it went too far, while Bonnie stared at her plate, cheeks tinted a bashful red.

Evan didn’t like the way Ruthven spoke about Bonnie. He didn’t like the way he looked at her, as though he could hardly restrain himself from touching her, as though he wanted to devour her whole. He recognized the feeling for what it was: jealousy, curling deep in his stomach and urging him to antagonize the other man even when he knew it could be detrimental to his mission. Still, he could hardly stop himself from saying the next words that tumbled past his lips.

“It seems that the rumors regardin’ yer . . . appetites are true, then.”

The air between them seemed to chill, the moment of silence stretching into an eternity before Ruthven asked, “What dae ye mean?”

“It is said many have crossed the doors o’ yer chambers.”

The words had hardly left his mouth before Alaric kicked him hard on the shin. Evan swallowed down the pained groan that threatened to escape him and didn’t even spare his brother a glance. His gaze was glued to Ruthven, watching him as if he was challenging him to give him his best attack.

For a while, no one spoke. Finally, Ruthven smiled—though it didn’t quite reach his eyes—and said, “Many things are said about many people. There are several rumors about ye, too, Laird MacGregor. Surely, ye must ken that.”

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