Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

E van was so close to Bonnie that she could feel his warm breath on her lips as she looked up at him, his hand ghosting over her side to draw a shiver out of her. She held her breath as he leaned even closer, not knowing what to expect from him.

Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to kiss her? Bonnie was too conflicted to know her own desires, her attraction to Evan warring against her fear that he was not the kind of man he claimed to be and the knowledge that she didn't know him at all. On top of everything else, they were in Ruthven's castle and though they were alone in the room, she couldn't help but fear that someone would see them—a maid perhaps, or a servant who would barge into the room just as Evan had.

What would happen then? Ruthven would surely be furious, Evan's and Alaric's mission would be ruined, and the MacLaren council would never forgive her for disgracing the clan. Everyone would find out, as the rumors would spread like wildfire, and she would never have the chance to marry a good, suitable man.

And yet, even with all the doubts that swirled in her mind, Bonnie found it impossible to move away from Evan. His pull on her was irresistible and no matter how much she tried to convince herself to stay away, her traitorous body seemed to have a mind of its own, swaying closer to him against her better judgement.

This is it . . . he will kiss me.

Bonnie's heart beat so fast and with such intensity that she could have sworn she felt her ribs rattle with the force of it. It was odd to think that another person could have such a strong effect on her, that Evan could drive her out of her mind with nothing but a simple approach.

She closed her eyes and waited.

Then she waited some more; and then some more. The kiss never came. Instead, the clatter of an object, followed by a whispered curse, forced her eyes open once more, only for her to see that the edge of her sheet was rapidly catching fire.

"What did ye dae?" she screeched as Evan grabbed a pillow and began to hit the end of the sheet in an attempt to put the flames out. He didn't need to explain what had happened to her, though, as she soon realized one of the candles that stood on the nightstand by her bed had fallen to the ground, the flames spreading to everything they could reach. Alarmed, Bonnie began to stomp onto the flames with her slipper, but Evan was quick to push her aside, turning momentarily to glare at her.

"Stay back," he commanded, startling her into inaction. Bonnie stood back and watched, quickly realizing that the fire was, in fact, very small and what had made it seem so terrifying at first was simply her panic.

Before long, Evan had managed to put out the flames and he straightened with a huff, patting the pillow he had used to get the ashes off. Some of the bedding was ruined, but the carpet seemed undamaged from where Bonnie stood and so did the bed. The candle, long since extinguished, was still smoking on the floor.

In the silence that followed, she and Evan stared at each other, stunned. Then, an awkward, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of her and she sat on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands.

Me first kiss an' I didnae even have it!

"I should . . . ye should sleep," Evan said, sounding just as awkward as Bonnie felt. Even in the half-light of the room, when she raised her gaze to look at him, she could see a faint blush on his cheeks. It was little more than a soft wash of pink, but it was enough to crack that tough and impenetrable facade that he had crafted so carefully around him. "Goodnight."

Before Bonnie could say anything else, Evan was gone, much like a specter. Bonnie could almost be convinced that she had imagined all of it had the evidence of the candle not been right in front of her eyes. It was difficult to believe, after all, that Evan had almost kissed her. To say they had not begun on the best of terms would be an understatement, and Bonnie couldn't understand her own attraction, let alone his.

Cleaning up the mess as best she could, Bonnie then crawled under the covers, burrowing into the blankets. She missed her home. Most of all, she missed her sister, who would surely have some advice to give her about all this.

If only she had made it here.

But she hadn't. Cathleen was far away and Bonnie was alone in Castle Ruthven. She couldn't talk to Evan or Laird Ruthven, naturally. The only person she could turn to was Alaric, but what would she tell him? The mere thought of discussing these strange feelings with him was mortifying, not only because she hardly knew the man, but also because he was Evan's brother. No, he simply was not an option and the reality Bonnie had to accept was that she had to deal with her feelings alone.

There was no other explanation other than temporary insanity for the way Evan had behaved that night. It weighed on him until the break of dawn as he tossed and turned in his bed, the unfamiliar guest room providing him with no comfort even as lavish and cozy as it was.

How could he think it was a good idea to kiss Bonnie? How could he think even for a moment that entangling himself in that sort of relationship would end well for them both?

He had been lucky to nudge that candle to the floor. Had it not been for the flames, he had no doubt that he would have kissed her and made things awfully complicated for them all. His self-control had vanished in a rare moment of weakness, but he knew better now. He had to keep himself in check.

After a restless night and only a few hours of sleep, Evan prepared for the day and headed down to the great hall after asking several different guards and servants for directions. In the darkness of the precious night, the castle had seemed cavernous in its size and complexity, corridors shooting off towards all directions, and it wasn't much different in the light of day. The only difference was that now Evan could see all the details of the castle—the carefully stacked stone walls, the colorful tapestries that decorated them, fluttering in the soft breeze, the paintings and precious trinkets that lined the halls. Generations of Ruthven rulers had left their mark upon the place and each of them seemed to be fonder of luxury than the next.

Castle MacGregor was neither small nor penurious and yet Evan and those before him had not felt the need for such obvious luxury. The castle he had inherited was large, well-kept, but the MacGregors preferred to keep their people fed than display their wealth on their walls.

Disgustin' . . . but what shall anyone expect from a man like Ruthven?

His alliance with John Balliol had one goal and that was to gain as much wealth as he could, with no regard to the consequences. He was willing to betray the other clans for gold. He was willing to lead them all to ruin for personal gain.

Evan was already in a sour mood when he stepped foot in the great hall, where Ruthven, Alaric, and Bonnie already sat as the servants served them their breakfast—Ruthven at the head of the table with Bonnie and Alaric to his left and right. Evan walked straight to Alaric's side and took the seat next to him with a curt greeting to them all, trying to ignore Ruthven's cheerful voice as he welcomed him.

It was all an act. Ruthven didn't want them there any more than they wanted to be there.

"I was tellin' Miss MacLaren an' Mister MacGregor that I regret nae welcomin' ye last night," said Ruthven as Evan took a bite from a piece of dried meat, though his appetite had yet to make an appearance. Simply looking at Ruthven seemed to ruin it entirely. "Unfortunately, I was occupied in clan matters an' I couldnae attend yer welcome. Please, accept me apologies."

Evan forced a tight smile on his lips, nodding once. "There is nae need fer an apology."

He couldn't help but wonder what kind of clan matters kept Ruthven so busy late at night; what else could it be other than something that had to do with John Balliol? Surely, any other matters could be discussed during the day, not needing the secrecy nightfall provided. Ruthven said nothing more on the matter, though. In fact, he said nothing more to Evan once he saw that he was forgiven. Instead, he turned to Bonnie with a sickly sweet smile that had Evan's stomach churning.

"When yer council sent me yer likin', the picture they chose didnae capture yer true beauty, Miss MacLaren. They promised me a bonnie wife but I didnae realize ye would be as bonnie as ye are."

"Thank ye, Laird Ruthven," said Bonnie with a smile of her own.

Evan gritted his teeth so hard that he feared he would crack a molar. He found Ruthven's attempts at flattery as infuriating as they were pathetic, nothing but an empty effort to easily gain Bonnie's favor.

"Is beauty all ye seek in a wife, Laird Ruthven?" Evan asked drily.

From the corner of his eye, Evan caught the murderous look Alaric was giving him, though he couldn't bring himself to care. Bonnie, too, stared at him, though her look was one of surprise rather than rage.

As for Laird Ruthven, he turned that smile to Evan and responded without missing a beat, as though he had rehearsed every possible scenario of their interaction in his head.

"O' course it isnae the only thing but it is a quite important one," he said. "Ye wouldnae agree, Laird MacGregor? I'm certain beauty matters tae ye just as much."

"What matters tae me is integrity," Evan said, and even he didn't know if they were still talking about wives. "Loyalty. Kindness. That is what is most important tae me."

"Aye, aye," said Laird Ruthven as he laughed good-naturedly, nodding along. "As it is tae everyone. But such things one can strive tae acquire. A beauty like Miss MacLaren's is difficult tae find."

Silence fell over the table for a few moments, not even the sound of cutlery breaking it since all of them had stopped eating. Alaric watched Evan carefully, certainly preparing to interrupt the conversation the moment it went too far, while Bonnie stared at her plate, cheeks tinted a bashful red.

Evan didn't like the way Ruthven spoke about Bonnie. He didn't like the way he looked at her, as though he could hardly restrain himself from touching her, as though he wanted to devour her whole. He recognized the feeling for what it was: jealousy, curling deep in his stomach and urging him to antagonize the other man even when he knew it could be detrimental to his mission. Still, he could hardly stop himself from saying the next words that tumbled past his lips.

"It seems that the rumors regardin' yer . . . appetites are true, then."

The air between them seemed to chill, the moment of silence stretching into an eternity before Ruthven asked, "What dae ye mean?"

"It is said many have crossed the doors o' yer chambers."

The words had hardly left his mouth before Alaric kicked him hard on the shin. Evan swallowed down the pained groan that threatened to escape him and didn't even spare his brother a glance. His gaze was glued to Ruthven, watching him as if he was challenging him to give him his best attack.

For a while, no one spoke. Finally, Ruthven smiled—though it didn't quite reach his eyes—and said, "Many things are said about many people. There are several rumors about ye, too, Laird MacGregor. Surely, ye must ken that."

Is he sayin' he kens more about me than he wishes tae reveal?

As far as Evan knew, there were no damaging or false rumors about him, despite what Ruthven claimed. Perhaps he was only trying to rattle him or to make him seem untrustworthy in Bonnie's eyes. Either way, Evan didn't like the insinuation and he was about to respond when Bonnie interrupted him, turning to Ruthven.

"I would love tae see the castle grounds," she said, shifting the tone of the conversation entirely with a few well-spoken words and a warm smile. "Could that be arranged, perhaps?"

It took a few moments for Ruthven to drag his gaze off Evan, but when he did, he seemed to only have eyes for Bonnie. "Consider it done. I will show ye the grounds meself."

Though Bonnie had saved Evan from saying something he could potentially regret, he wished she had said nothing. He was itching for a fight, his hands curling into fists under the table, but he wouldn't get to release all this anger on Ruthven—at least not that day. If anything, his outburst had only served to get Ruthven and Bonnie closer, which was precisely the opposite of what he wanted.

Under the table, Alaric kicked Evan once more, this time preemptively, so that he wouldn't say anything else that could offend Ruthven. Evan could have said a lot more—he could have pointed out there was evidence against Ruthven or made him see that Bonnie didn't truly want to be around him. In the end, he decided it was best to keep his lips sealed for the rest of their brief breakfast, saying not a single word until Bonnie and Ruthven had left the table so he could show her around the castle.

It was then that Alaric turned to him, brows furrowed and hand reaching for his shoulder to catch his attention.

"What was that?" he demanded. "I ken ye are nae as foolish as tae speak tae him like that. What is the matter with ye?"

Evan swallowed drily, trying to push down his rage. His gaze kept drifting to the windows, but he couldn't get a glimpse of Bonnie and Ruthven.

"It's naething," he said. "Let us go."

Before Alaric could say anything else, Evan stood and stomped out of the great hall, heading back to his chambers. Behind him, Alaric's footsteps echoed down the entrance hall as he rushed after him, catching up near the stairs.

Neither of them spoke until they were behind closed doors once more. Evan sat on the edge of his bed, but Alaric, too irritated by the situation, paced back and forth in front of him with his hands on his hips.

"Ye cannae claim it was naething," Alaric said, stopping in front of Evan and throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I despise him as much as ye dae, but we must remember our place here. We must remember why we came. Dinnae allow yerself tae be controlled by yer anger."

Does he think this is because o' Ruthven's alliance with Balliol?

Evan didn't try to correct his brother. It was better if Alaric thought the source of his anger was Ruthven himself and not that jealousy that clawed at his insides, threatening to rip him apart. He doubted Alaric would understand, after all. Evan didn't understand it himself, this all-encompassing desire, this unquenchable thirst for a woman he barely knew.

"Evan," Alaric said, his voice adopting a gentler, mellower tone as he walked over to him. "This must stop or Ruthven will ken there is somethin' wrong. We have worked too hard fer this. We cannae reveal ourselves now. Ye understand how much is at stake, dae ye nae?"

"O' course I dae," said Evan. He did; he truly did. There was nothing more important to him than their mission. Failing could mean the end for many Highland clans and many people had put their faith in him and Alaric. They couldn't fail them. He couldn't do anything that would jeopardize their plan.

Includin' thinkin' about Bonnie.

He had to cast her out of his mind once and for all. If he could help her avoid this marriage by revealing the truth about Ruthven, then that would only be a nice bonus. But he couldn't allow himself to get too close.

"It willnae happen again," Evan promised with all his conviction. "I will . . . I'll make sure he doesnae suspect."

"Good," said Alaric, relieved. His brother never doubted him when Evan made a promise and it only made him want to keep that promise even more. "Good. This will be all over soon an' then we can return home an' ye willnae have tae see him again."

"Aye," said Evan, though he didn't sound particularly enthused about it even in his own ears.

Slowly, Alaric came to sit next to him on the bed, pushing his shoulder with his. The wood groaned under their combined weight but thankfully didn't give in.

"Are ye thinkin' about the weddin'?" Alaric asked.

Alarmed, Evan's head whipped to the side to look at him, eyes wide. "What weddin'? Bonnie's?"

Alaric frowned in confusion, staying silent for a moment. "What? Nay. Yer weddin'."

In all the chaos, Evan had forgotten all about the fact that there was a very good chance his council would have found him a wife by the time he returned home. It was something he didn't like to consider often, something that had been easy to cast aside as he worried about the plan and fretted over his feelings for Bonnie, but now that Alaric had brought it back to the forefront of his mind, it quickly became yet another concern for him.

"I suppose I am," he said with a shrug. "At least I'm thinkin' about it now that ye reminded me o' it."

Alaric chuckled and gave him a pat on the shoulder before he stood, as if he couldn't keep still, even if Evan was the one out of the two of them who had to be nervous. "It is only a formality."

"Is that what ye would be sayin' if ye were the one who had tae wed?" Evan asked, looking at his brother through his lashes. "Or would ye be doin' anythin' in yer power tae avoid it?"

Alaric fell silent but that was all the response Evan needed to know the truth. Neither of them wanted to be forced into a marriage, but Alaric wouldn't have to, at least not any time soon. It was only Evan, as the laird of the clan, who had to marry and produce heirs. He understood his duty, he did, but he wanted to choose for himself. If he had to marry, then he wanted it to happen on his own terms.

"Dinnae fash," said Alaric. "Ye'll surely have yer pick. The council will give ye plenty o' options."

Perhaps that much was true, Evan thought. They were a powerful clan and he had the reputation of being a just man, if a little terrifying to those who didn't know him well. It didn't hurt that many women found him handsome. With any luck, he would have his pick of noble girls.

And yet, even as this thought was supposed to bring him some relief, it did nothing to lift his mood. He could have been thinking about his future, with a beautiful and kind wife, with children he could raise and shape into the next generation of the clan. He could have been thinking about all the great moments he could have with such a family by his side.

And yet the only thing on his mind was Bonnie, the thought of her haunting him in all his waking moments.