Page 27 of Craved By a Highland Beast

“I’m fine!” she said, her voice taking on an almost hysterical tone which surely did nothing to reassure Ruthven. “Truly . . . it is only the cold.”

Ruthven watched her carefully but Bonnie offered no further explanation. Yet again, he continued to walk, pulling her along without offering her his coat, and Bonnie didn’t know how many times she would have to complain before the man got the hint and handed his coat to her.

In the end, she decided that perhaps the best approach would be to ask him directly for it.

“Me laird . . . dae ye think I could have yer coat? I truly am very cold an’ I dinnae wish tae head back inside so soon.”

Ruthven stuttered, eyes opening wide as he realized that Bonnie had been trying to get that coat for a while now. Even his cheeks had a wash of pink over them, his embarrassment apparent as he shrugged off the coat and draped it over Bonnie’s shoulders with an awkward chuckle, shaking his head.

“Forgive me,” he said. “It didnae cross me mind.”

It was a heavy thing, that coat, enveloping Bonnie entirely and almost reaching the ground. The fur on the hem was thick andluxurious, the hide from which it was made sturdy. Bonnie had been so focused on her task that she hadn’t realized just how cold she had truly been until she was nestled in the garment, its warmth seeping into her skin.

Behind Ruthven, in the distance, Evan was glaring daggers at him from behind yet another bush where he had been hiding.

Bonnie quickly dragged her gaze off him and met Ruthven’s instead, smiling softly at him. “Thank ye,” she said, as she slipped her hand discreetly into one of the pockets only to find it empty. Surely, the coat had more pockets, though, she thought, and so she didn’t allow disappointment to wash over her just yet.

As they continued their walk, Bonnie explored all the pockets, always a half-step behind Ruthven so that he wouldn’t notice. When she slipped her hand into the interior one, her fingers brushed against something long and made of metal—it certainly had the contours of a key.

Now all she had to do was place it in her own pocket without being detected. Ruthven wouldn’t suspect her of stealing it if she did it now, in his presence—or at least so she hoped.

“We could take a ride around the loch one o’ these days,” Ruthven said. Once again, Bonnie was startled to hear his voice, but she schooled her features into an expression of neutrality quickly, hiding her surprise. “It’s a bonnie place. Ye ken how tae ride a horse, dae ye nae?”

“Och aye,” said Bonnie. “I never take a carriage. I prefer ridin’.”

“It does make one feel free, does it nae?” asked Ruthven. “I prefer it, too. I’ve been ridin’ since I was a bairn.”

Bonnie let Ruthven talk about his childhood and riding, only half-listening to him as he spoke about his favorite horse and the fact that he rode the same one for over twenty years. The entire time, she nodded along, keeping him occupied as she carefully plucked the key from the pocket of the coat and quickly stashed it in her tunic, making sure it was secure.

“What was that?”

Cold sweat drenched Bonnie’s back in an instant, a ripple of fear running down her spine. She had been so careful. Had she been discovered already?

“What, me laird?” she asked, surprised by her own ability to keep her voice steady and well above a whisper.

It took her a few seconds, but soon Bonnie realized Ruthven wasn’t looking at her at all, but rather somewhere in the distance, in a small thicket of bushes, and she barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Evan! That fool!

“I thought I saw somethin’, over there,” Ruithven said, pointing at the bushes. “Stay here . . . I will go an’ see.”

“I’m sure it was naething!” Bonnie said, stepping in front of him to stall him, hopefully long enough for Evan to flee. “Yer castle is secure, o’ course. It must have been a squirrel or a bird.”

Ruthven wasn’t deterred. He placed a strong, warm hand on her shoulder and stilled her, before brushing past her to walk over to the bushes. Bonnie’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him, her heart beating erratically and the blood rushing to her head with fear.

What if Evan was there? What if Ruthven found him hiding among the leaves?

To her horror, Ruthven pulled his sword out of its sheath as he approached. Bonnie tried to close her eyes, her terror getting the better of her, but it was as though her lids would not cooperate with her. She could only watch, wide-eyed, mouth hanging open, as Ruthven parted the bushes with one decisive move of his hands—and found nothing.

Relief washed over Bonnie when Ruthven turned around after his inspection, satisfied that there was no threat. Her legs could hardly hold her upright, knees shaking uncontrollably, but she couldn’t collapse just yet; not in his presence. She would have to wait until she was back in her chambers and could allow the fear to overtake her in peace.

“Ye were right,” he said. “It must have been a squirrel.”

Behind him, far enough that he wouldn’t be seen or heard by Ruthven, Evan slipped through the trees and the shadows, heading back to the castle.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I’ve got it!”

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