Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

B onnie 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On the other hand, just when she had thought Evan would finally kiss her, he had withdrawn from her and left her without an explanation.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 covered seemingly 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 been plannin' 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?

And how was it that her council hadn't seen Ruthven for the man he was? She, too, had been fooled at first by his charm and his politeness, but now she could see it had all been a facade, one that had easily cracked under the smallest of pressure. In the back of her mind, Bonnie had always had doubts about Evan's and Alaric's claims, seeing what a perfect gentleman Ruthven was, and had he held onto this mask of politeness for just a little longer, perhaps she would have believed him to be the perfect suitor, after all. But now, seeing him like this only confirmed what Evan and Alaric had warned her about.

This was not a good man. This was not a man who would be kind to her in marriage, nor the kind of man who would hesitate to ally himself with the likes of Balliol.

It must all be true . . . it must all be as Evan says.

And if it truly was, then Bonnie had, once again, involved herself into something much bigger than her.

"I am only askin' ye fer some time," she insisted, her tone turning pleading. If she could only trick him into believing she wanted nothing more than to know him better, then perhaps she could escape his clutches. "Spend some time with me. Let us . . . let us speak o' our past an' our future. Perhaps we could go on a ride or visit the loch like ye said."

That seemed to appease Ruthven, if only a little. He leaned back against his seat and stared at Bonnie for a few moments, clearly studying her for any signs of deception. If he found any, he didn't share it with her. Instead, that charming smile was back as though it had never left his plush lips, lighting up his whole face.

This change was even more intimidating than the previous one to Bonnie. Once the mask had slipped, it was uncanny to see it back on all of a sudden, as though it was as easy as breathing for him to fool those around him. Bonnie had underestimated the man. Perhaps even Evan and Alaric had underestimated him, but now she knew him for who he truly was: a ruthless liar, terrifying in his abilities.

"Aye, the loch," he said, his gaze taking on a faraway look. "It's a bonnie place. I'm sure ye'll enjoy it very much."

"We will go soon?" Bonnie urged. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with Ruthven, but for now, it seemed like her best option. She could only count on the fact that he seemed to need the alliance with the MacLaren Clan, and so he couldn't hurt her—not before their marriage, at least. That gave her some time to protect herself. "Perhaps once the weather clears?"

Ruthven turned to stare out of the window over his left shoulder, gazing at the rain that was still falling with no sign that it would soon stop. As he had the back of his head turned to her, Bonnie took the chance to pull the key out of her pocket, quickly placing it onto the carpet and sliding it in the gap under his desk, where it could have easily fallen off his pocket.

Her heart pulsed everywhere—in her throat, in the ends of her limbs, rattling the bones of her chest. She bit down hard, molar to molar, waiting for the moment Ruthven would reveal that he had caught her in the act, that he knew precisely what she had done and would now punish her as she deserved.

The moment never came. Ruthven simply turned around again, sipping casually on his wine.

"When the weather clears," he confirmed. "Hopefully, it will be so soon."

Bonnie could only nod, not trusting herself to speak. She knew the moment she would open her mouth, her voice would be shaky, breathless, betraying her fear, and so she remained silent, taking a sip of wine to hide it.

"Well . . . if ye wish tae ken somethin' about me, all ye must dae is ask," Ruthven said. It was as though the previous conversation had never happened, as if the tension had been nothing but a bad dream, and with the sudden change, Bonnie could almost believe it. But she held onto the memory of his gaze, cold and relentless, betraying his real intentions. "Shall I tell ye about me family?"

With a small smile, one that was as sincere as she could muster, Bonnie nodded.