Page 5 of Craved By a Highland Beast

“An’ this has naething tae dae with the fact that ye are avoidin’ yer own betrothal,” he said. “I’m sure yer nae tryin’ tae stall, are ye?”

Evan couldn’t help but roll his eyes, though his brother was not far off the mark. The truth was that ever since the council of Clan MacGregor had decided that he, as the laird, needed to have a wife, he had been doing anything in his power to delay that day for as long as he could.

He could only avoid his council that long, of course. The day would come when he would have to pick a woman to wed, but that day wouldn’t come so soon if he had anything to say about it.

“That isnae why I’m doin’ this,” Evan insisted, but then he gave a small shrug, fighting back a chuckle. “But it certainly helps.”

Alaric gave him a knowing look and a pat on the shoulder before he headed towards the door. “Well, I’ll see if we’re ready tae depart. Ye stay here an’ see if ye can get him tae talk.”

Evan nodded, watching his brother leave before he turned to the other man. For a moment, he thought he was unconscious, the pain and the abuse proving too much for his body to handle, but when he stepped closer, the man flinched in fear.

“Pretendin’ willnae help ye,” Evan told him with a weary sigh. “What will help ye is if ye tell me the truth.”

He had tried this before and the man had said nothing. This time, he said nothing as well, keeping all his secrets to himself. At first, he had insisted he knew nothing, but neither Evan nor Alaric had believed him. They had good informants, people who knew everything they needed to know, and they had assured Evan that this was the man they were looking for—a man working for both Ruthven and Balliol, helping them exchange messages in secret. Evan was more inclined to believe his people than this man when he said he didn’t know anything.

“Alright . . . I suppose ye leave me nae choice but tae continue this,” Evan said as he approached the man once more and raised his fist, ready to strike.

And then the door opened, and Evan turned around to see not his brother there, but a woman; a stranger, someone he was certain he had never seen before.

He didn’t manage to say a single thing before the woman began to speak, a torrent of words tumbling past her lips. Evan frowned, trying his best to follow the path of her reasoning but quickly failing. She was saying something about turning back, something about guards, something that Evan didn’t have time to listen to.

Who is she? How did she get here?

And most importantly, what was he supposed to do now that she had seen him torture a man?

When she finally noticed what was going on, Evan saw the spark of fear in her eyes. Instantly, she began to backtrack, her hands reaching for her bow and an arrow, and Evan couldn’t help but wonder what kind of woman travelled with such a weapon.

It wouldn’t help her much against him. Arrows were good in long ranges, but he could get to her before she fired it.

“Where do ye think ye’re going, lass?” he began but she interrupted him.

“Dinnae even think about layin’ a hand on me,” she said through gritted teeth. “I will kill ye.”

In two large strides, Evan reached her and grabbed her bow, yanking it right out of her hand and tossing it aside. That didn’t seem to faze her much, though, as she gripped the arrow in a tight fist and raised her hand, ready to strike. Evan managed toblock the blow at the last moment, his hand grabbing her arm to still it as the other wrestled the arrow out of her palm.

The moment she was left without a weapon, the woman blanched, all the color draining from her face—and what a face it was. Despite her fierce character, she seemed like a delicate thing, bird-boned and soft-featured; a beautiful young woman who, under other circumstances, would have certainly caught his attention.

As it were, Evan had more pressing matters to consider than his sexual desires.

“What will I dae with ye?” he asked her as he kicked the door shut behind him. Though the crew had seen the man he and Alaric had brought on board, though they had heard his screams, Evan still thought it was better to keep him out of sight.

“Ye’ll let me go,” the woman said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Nay,” said Evan. “I dinnae think I will.”

As he spoke, he pulled the woman towards the stern, away from prying eyes and ears. The woman struggled against him, desperately trying to dislodge her arm from his grip, but Evan refused to let her go, even though there wasn’t much she could do. They were in the middle of the sea, after all. There was nowhere for her to go; nowhere for her to hide.

“Yer a brute!” the woman said, kicking him hard in the shin. Evan did almost lose his grip on her then, but he only grunted in pain and pushed her hard against the rail, crowding her against it. Like that, it was impossible for her to weasel her way out. He stood in front of her like a wall, refusing to budge.

“Who are ye?” he asked. “An’ what are ye doin’ on mebirlinn?”

The woman blinked in surprise a few times, straightening up as she looked at him. “This is yerbirlinn? Yer the captain?”

“I’m nae the captain but I have paid fer a private journey,” Evan said. “An’ I dinnae take kindly tae stowaways.”

“I’m nae a stowaway,” the woman said, trying to pull her arm from his grip once more. This time, Evan allowed it, only because she had no chance of escape. “I am Bonnie MacLaren o’ the MacLaren Clan. Me sister is the Lady Cathleen MacLaren. So, I willnae have ye treat me like this.”

Evan took a better look at the woman, noting the hands that seemed unused to manual labor, the tunic she wore, which was woven from a fine fabric, and the signs of a soft life. She certainly looked and spoke like a noble girl, and had Evan been in a better state of mind, he was certain he would have noticed sooner.

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