Page 35 of Craved By a Highland Beast

Evan froze. The last thing he had expected was for Bonnie to mention his parents, and the memories of their death flooded through his mind, as they tended to do whenever he thought about them. Everything, from the smallest smile they had ever given him to his most vivid and important memories, had been marred by their death. There was nothing joyful left. There was nothing he could hold onto that didn’t bring back this lancing pain that tore his heart in two.

Slowly, Evan pushed past Bonnie, throat closing uncomfortably around the lump there. For a moment, he felt the brush of her hand over his arm, but then she let go of him.

A part of Evan wished she hadn’t.

“I must . . . I must go,” he said, providing no better explanation. Behind him, Bonnie sighed but said nothing as he stumbled to the door, opening it to reveal that dark sky once more and the rain that poured relentlessly on the cold ground.

He chanced a look over his shoulder as he stepped out of the room, but Bonnie had already turned her back to him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Bonnie saw neither Evan nor Ruthven after the fight. Both men seemed to simply vanish into thin air, disappearing into different wings of the castle, and Bonnie—if she were honest—was quite relieved about it. Ruthven would surely be furious with Evan and she didn’t know how that would affect his attitude towards her; after all, he had argued with Bonnie over the preference she showed towards Evan, and so for all she knew, he was furious with her, as well.

On the other hand, just when she had thought Evan would finally kiss her, he had withdrawn from her and left her without an explanation. Bonnie could never understand him, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to at all. Every time they got closer to each other, he pulled back. Every time she thought she understood him better, he acted in a way that not only confused her, but also angered her, to the point where rage simmered under her skin at all times, just waiting for the right moment to erupt.

She didn’t want to be like this. She missed the cheerful, joyful person she was before she was thrust into Evan’s schemes, like a pawn he could use and discard as he wished.

The following morning brought more rain with it, thick, cold drops of water pattering against the outside walls of the castle. Bonnie sat on her bed, twirling the key to Ruthven’s secret room in her hand as she considered her next steps. They had already kept it for too long; it was a wonder Ruthven hadn’t realized it was missing yet. But with the tense dinners and the fight between him and Evan, and then their subsequent disappearance, neither she nor Alaric had found the chance to place it back where it belonged.

I must find a way tae return it.

Slipping the key into her pocket, Bonnie made her way to the laird’s study, knocking on his door. At his call, she entered and bowed, her eyes immediately scanning the room for anyone else who could be there, as well as for any places where she could put the key without being noticed.

Thankfully, no one but Ruthven was there, sitting on a large, intricately carved high-back chair behind his desk. The rest of the study was just as grand, with a heavy cabinet taking up an entire wall and a plush carpet that warmed the room even more than the fire that burned in the fireplace.

It was a terribly neat place, very different from his secret room, where papers were thrown haphazardly everywhere and coveredseemingly every inch of space. Any change would be rather obvious, Bonnie thought, no matter how small.

When Ruthven saw her, he stood and gestured at her to sit. Bonnie did so, perching herself on the edge of another beautiful, heavy chair of English oak, but just as she was trying to come up with an excuse for her visitation, Ruthven spoke first.

“Miss MacLaren . . . I am glad ye came tae see me,” he said, reaching for the carafe of wine on his desk. He poured some in a cup that was already in use and then pulled another, filling it as well before passing it to her. “I would summon ye had ye nae come.”

Bonnie took the cup in her hands but didn’t sip from it. Her stomach had tied itself into a knot, her hand trembling slightly as she began to wonder what Ruthven could possibly want from her.

Will he tell me that we must leave? We must have all offended him so it wouldnae be surprisin’.

“Is there somethin’ ye wished tae discuss with me, me laird?” she asked, desperately trying to keep the tremble off her voice.

“Indeed,” said Ruthven. After taking a sip of his wine, he placed down his cup and leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of his face as he looked at Bonnie through them. His eyes, usually a light blue, seemed to turn a steely grey in the dim light of the day, mirroring the sky outside. “I wished tae ask ye if ye are interested in this marriage, after all. Our councils have beenplannin’ this fer a long time an’ I have put significant amounts o’ effort, as weel. It is only ye who seems reluctant.”

There was something about Ruthven—something about the tone of his voice, the way he pinned her with that cold gaze. So far, she had only seen this side of him once, at the Hamilton wedding, when he had been displeased with one of the servants, but she had never seen this intensity directed towards her before. All this time, despite his rivalry with Evan, he had been a charming man, always smiling warmly and making sure Bonnie lacked for nothing while she stayed in his home.

Now, it was as though a different man sat before her; someone whose face had never even formed a warm smile.

The change was unsettling, making Bonnie’s breath catch in her throat. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that she had to tread lightly, to consider her responses carefully before she uttered them.

She hesitated. She couldn’t promise Ruthven that she would marry him, not when her plan from the very beginning had been to avoid this marriage. Still, she couldn’t outright refuse. As long as there was no proof of what Evan and Alaric claimed about him, then he seemed like the perfect match and Bonnie would be blamed for ruining such an alliance.

“Well . . . every lass dreams o’ the perfect husband, wouldnae ye say so, me laird?” she asked, giving him a half-hearted smile. “An’ yer certainly an excellent choice fer anyone. Many would be thrilled tae wed ye.”

“This doesnae answer me question, Miss MacLaren,” said Ruthven in a clipped tone. His impatience showed in the way he tapped his fingers against the desk, their rhythmic bouncing sounding like deafening drums to Bonnie’s ears. In her panic, with her heart leaping to her throat, she could hardly focus on anything else. “I believe I asked ye a very simple question, an’ yet ye seem incapable o’ givin’ me a simple answer.”

“Dinnae ye think that we should ken each other better first?” Bonnie asked, thinking that perhaps it was better to seem like a hesitant, rather than a reluctant, bride. If she played the role well enough, then perhaps she could buy herself—and Evan and Alaric—some time. “It has only been a few days since I came here tae visit ye an’ several o’ these days, ye have been occupied with other matters. Surely, ye understand that I wish tae spend time with the man I will wed first.”

“Others have wedded complete strangers,” said Ruthven, uncaring about her excuses. “Ye are lucky ye had the chance tae visit me here. Besides, what more dae ye need tae ken? Ye ken me clan is strong an’ wealthy. Ye have seen me an’ I can only assume me appearance is tae yer likin’. I have provided fer ye all this time. What else is it that ye require?”

Bonnie let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling around the edges of her seat. In her other hand, she was still holding the cup of wine, and now she took a tentative sip, trying to calm her nerves.

How is it that I am always involved in somethin’ dangerous? Why couldnae they find me a better man tae wed?

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