Page 2 of Craved By a Highland Beast

“An’ yer right,” he said. “We willnae rest until we have avenged our faither. Is that so bad, Padraig? Is it so bad that we wish tae avenge him?”

“What if ye end up like him, Evan?” The mere thought seemed to shake Padraig to his core. “I have already buried a good friend. I dinnae wish tae bury the two lads I love like me own bairns.”

“Padraig . . . Alaric an’ I will be fine,” Evan assured him as he stood from his chair and rounded his desk to pat the other man’s shoulder. “We are nae bairns anymore. We havenae been fer a long time.”

“I ken that,” Padraig said. “But it doesnae change the fact that ye still seem like bairns tae me. Let an old man have his concerns, Evan. This is what we dae best.”

Evan could hardly argue with Padraig when he got like this, and so he didn’t try. Instead, he said, “I’ll consider it, alright? I will consider the Lady Buchanan an’ every other lass ye have found fer me. But I will dae so after the Hamilton weddin’.”

“An’ until then?”

“Until then . . . Alaric an’ I have serious work tae dae an’ we need yer assistance,” said Evan. “We need all the resources we can have.”

Padraig nodded, his own hand coming to rest on Evan’s shoulder. It was the most fatherly gesture he had received since his father’s death, and he had to swallow around the knot in his throat, willing himself to stay grounded instead of losing himself in his grief. There was no time for this. He would only grieve his parents once he was finished with his revenge.

“Ye shall have them,” Padraig promised. “I only ask that ye remain safe. That ye dinnae take risks.”

“I willnae,” said Evan, even if he knew his promise to be false.

CHAPTER ONE

Marrying a complete stranger was the fate of many noble girls who wedded their husbands for a strategic alliance. However, Bonnie MacLaren never imagined she would be one of them. Marrying for political gain was one thing; marrying a man she only knew by name, having never met him before, was another.

Then again, she was meant to make his acquaintance soon. Laird Graeme Ruthven was waiting for her on the Isle of Arran, where they would both be attending the wedding of Tavish Hamilton and his bride, Amelia. The council of the MacLaren Clan had made it clear that Bonnie— as the heir should something happen to her brother-in-law and laird of the clan, Macauley Sinclair—was to wed as soon as possible to a man of their choosing, in an attempt to prevent another effort for a hostile takeover.

Bonnie could hardly blame them. After her cousin, Faolan, had attempted to hold onto his role as the laird of the clan by threatening to marry Bonnie against her will, the council was more eager than ever to marry her off to someone just so theywouldn’t have to deal with the headache of another suitor with ulterior motives.

The sky was dark, clouds gathering above Bonnie’s head as she and her two trusted guards travelled from Castle MacLaren to the shore, where they would take abirlinnto the Isle of Arran. So far, the winter had been mostly dry, bringing them less rain than usual, but the cold bit into her skin and seeped into her bones—a chill that turned all the more humid as they approached the coastline. It was still early in the day, and yet the grey clouds blocked the sun, forcing Bonnie to hold tight onto her cape as the wind whipped her face and hair.

“We’re almost there,” one of the guards, Finlay, called over the whistling of the wind. “Ye willnae have tae endure this much longer.”

“I’ve endured worse,” Bonnie said and then added with a teasing smirk, “like yer company.”

Finlay turned to look at her in mock offence. “If me lady protests me presence, I am more than happy tae return tae the castle an’ relieve ye o’ the burden. Now, whether ye make it tae Arran without me is a different matter.”

“What dae ye think will happen tae me on the way?”

“I can only guess Lachlan will inadvertently kill ye afore yer even on thebirlinn,” said Finlay, prompting an unimpressed sigh from the other guard.

Bonnie laughed. In all the years she had known Finlay, the man could never help himself when it came to Lachlan—or anyone else, really. He always had a joke to offer and loved to tease those around him. Being a few years older than her, Bonnie had always thought of him as the big brother she never had. They even resembled each other a little, in their colors if not their features, their eyes and hair a similer shade of deep brown. Where Bonnie was small, though, slender, with a delicate nose and mouth, and a rounded, doll-like face, Finlay was a wall of a man, well-suited to his profession.

Lachlan, on the other hand, could only be described as willowy, Bonnie thought; boyish, even, with his unruly mop of blonde hair and his bright blue eyes. He worked well with Finlay, though, making up for the speed the other lacked when it came to battle.

“Maybe that would be fer the best,” Bonnie said with a sigh, remembering the reason for her visit to Arran. Part of it was the wedding, of course, but part of it was so she could be paraded in front of Laird Ruthven so that he could decide if she was good enough for him; like a prized mare whose only value came from her appearance and how many children she could bear.

It was never meant tae be like this.

Bonnie had entertained the idea that she would one day marry for love a few times and it sounded idyllic—the kind of thing that had few chances of ever occurring as she was the eldest daughter. But then Cathleen had married Macauley, and he had taken on the mantle of the laird of the clan. Bonnie had heldonto the hope that perhaps with a man like him in charge, a man trusted and respected by everyone around him, she would have the chance to find love, after all, and if not love, then at least a husband who would be a good match for her—someone she and her family could get to know slowly, someone they could be certain wouldn’t hurt her or the clan.

And yet all those hopes had now been ruined.

“Dinnae speak like that,” Finlay said, though his gaze was understanding as he looked at her. “Yer only obligation is tae meet him.”

“Fer now,” Bonnie said. “But if he agrees an’ the council agrees, then we all ken me opinion on the matter will be irrelevant.”

There was nothing Finlay could say to that, Bonnie knew, and so he didn’t respond much to her relief. She didn’t want to hear any comforting words, because in the end, they wouldn’t matter. Words couldn’t change what awaited her at the other side of the sea nor could they bring her any comfort.

It was better to say nothing at all.

---