Page 62 of Craved By a Highland Beast

“Then yer judgement is already clouded,” she said. “But yer happiness matters, too, Evan. An’ we want tae see ye happy.”

“We’ll deal with Ruthven,” Alaric was quick to assure him, before Evan could protest. “We were always goin’ tae be his enemies. We made that choice when we decided tae stop him an’ Baliol. If anythin’, ye’ll stop him from gettin’ the resources he needs if ye wed Bonnie. Padraig wishes tae take the conservative approach, but when have we done things that way?”

Alaric, Evan thought, had a point, but how could a laird go against his entire council and keep their trust? How could he defy them all and still have them wish to serve him?

Before any of them could say anything else, the gates opened and the guards announced the arrival of Macauley and Cathleen as their carriage rolled into the courtyard. Evan watched as Bonnie rushed to them, falling into her sister’s arms the moment she was out of the door.

“Come,” said Isabeau, putting a hand on Evan’s shoulder as the three of them walked over to the carriage. It was the first time Evan was seeing either of them, and upon first look, he had to suppress a small laugh.

While Bonnie and Cathleen looked only vaguely alike, sharing their delicate features and long, brown hair but little else, he and Macauley could have been long lost brothers. He, too, was a large man, towering over everyone else around him, with dark hair and eyes that made him seem right at home in Clan MacGregor.

“Laird MacLaren, Lady MacLaren,” Evan said in greeting as he bowed to them. “Welcome. I hope yer travels were pleasant.”

“Laird MacGregor,” said Macauley with a bow of his own, Cathleen mirroring him. “Thank ye fer receivin’ us. But I dinnae think there is any need tae be so formal with each other. Any friend o’ Bonnie is our friend, as well.”

“I agree,” said Evan, his shoulders relaxing a little. He was not yet used to all the formalities that came with his title. “This is me sister, Isabeau, an’ me brother, Alaric. Let us head inside afore the storm comes.”

Leading the way, Evan guided everyone into the drawing room, where the servants were already laying out a spread of food and tea. As they all sat on the couches, only one remained standing: Bonnie, who was still pacing back and forth as though she couldn’t help it.

Evan didn’t have the chance to ask her what was wrong. Just as Cathleen had taken her seat, Bonnie spilled everything.

“I helped Evan an’ Alaric find proof against Ruthven that he is workin’ with Baliol an’ the King,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth so fast that Evan had to concentrate to understand her. “An’ now Ruthven is very angry with me, with us, an’ I am quite certain those men who attacked us were sent by him an’ he willnae stop until we are all dead.”

The five of them stared at Bonnie, stunned into silence. After a few moments, it was Cathleen who spoke first, her tone soft and gentle.

“Alright,” she said, standing to wrap an arm around Bonnie’s shoulder and bring her to the seat next to her. Even when they sat, she didn’t let go of Bonnie. “We have been through worse. We can . . . we can get through this, Bonnie. I promise.”

Evan had not once seen Bonnie tremble in fear, and she didn’t tremble now. Her foot, though, tapped incessantly against the floor and she wrung her fingers with such force that he could only imagine it was painful.

“Proof?” Macauley asked. “What proof did ye find?”

“A letter,” Evan said. “Alaric copied it an’ distributed it tae our neighbourin’ clans. It proves that Ruthven an’ Baliol are workin’ together.”

“Here,” Alaric said, puling one of the copies from his pocket and handing it to Macauley. The other man red it quickly, eyes skimming over the words, before he shook his head.

“It is proof,” he said. “But a copied letter . . . I dinnae think it will be enough. We must find somethin’ more. People can say it is forged. Ruthven himself can say it is forged.”

“Aye, we thought o’ that,” said Evan. “But we had nae other choice. We thought we would have a chance to steal the original if they didnae believe us, but now . . . I suppose we will never make it back intae Castle Ruthven.”

But they couldn’t have stayed there. That attack had rattled Evan and Bonnie still bore the consequences of it.

“We will write tae Kian an’ Deirdre,” said Macauley. “Laird Drummond, he is me good friend. He will help us.”

“An’ we will write tae . . . anyone we can,” Evan said with a firm nod. It was all they could do for now, as they waited to see how Ruthven and Ball would act.

“Me laird, if I may.”

Evan turned to see one of the messengers at the door and beckoned him closer, a weary sigh escaping him before he had even received the note. He didn’t need to read it to know that whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly be good. It had been a long while since something good had happened.

The note was from his scouts, informing him that Ruthven’s men had been spotted near the clan borders. So, Ruthven had sent men after them, Evan thought, and he was most certainly preparing for an attack. Whatever it was they were going to do to defeat him, they had to do it fast.

“What is it?” Alaric asked, glancing over his shoulder. With vicious strength, Evan crumbled the paper in his fist.

“War.”

Ever since his conversation with Isabeau and Alaric, Evan couldn’t get his mind off what they had told him. It didn’t help, this looming threat over his head that was Ruthven and his forces, even now scouting his lands to find the best way to attack.

What am I doin’? I could end up in the ground an’ Bonnie would never ken how much I love her.

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