Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T he water was like a warm cocoon around Bonnie, its surface still steaming from the last bucket the maids had poured into the tub. Small ripples formed around Bonnie's fingers as she slid them through the water, watching the displaced liquid move back and forth with the kind of serenity she missed those days.

Even this bath wasn't enough to calm her. For hours after she had returned the key to Ruthven, only for him to finally realize it was gone and sending all of his guards on a hunt around the castle, she had feared the man would figure out the truth and have her, along with Evan and Alaric, hanged. As the time passed, though, no one had come to her chambers to drag her to the gallows or demand an explanation. If Ruthven suspected anything, he certainly didn't suspect her.

But what if he suspects Evan an' Alaric?

Bonnie hadn't gathered the courage yet to speak to either man, fearing that if Ruthven caught them together, he would see the truth. It was a foolish notion, she knew—after all, she had every right to speak to the men who were meant to be her cousins. Still, the concern held her back and so she had stayed in her chambers since the incident, claiming she was feeling under the weather so she could avoid the previous night's dinner.

Sooner or later, she would have to face Ruthven, though. Sooner or later, she would have to spend time with him without even anyone else acting as a buffer between them.

With a sigh, Bonnie held her breath and sank under the surface of the water, closing her eyes. It was peaceful in there, the warmth of the water enveloping her entirely, every outside sound muffled. For a few moments, she could pretend that she was all alone in the world; no responsibilities on her shoulders, no schemes she had to follow. Just her and the silence of the water, holding her safely in its cradle.

The peace didn't last long. Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed her and dragged her out of the water, and Bonnie screamed in terror. In her surprise, she inhaled just as she broke the surface, water shooting up her nostrils and down her throat and choking her, the hair that plastered itself on her face and the drops that fell in her eyes blinding her entirely.

With frantic hands, she tried to push her hair back, eyes blinking rapidly to expel the water. Distantly, she was aware that someone was talking to her, the voice rough and demanding, but she could hear nothing over the rush of blood to her ears.

"Bonnie!" that voice shouted and she finally recognized it as Evan's. "Are ye alright? What happened? Talk tae me."

"What?" Bonnie asked around a cough. Her eyes still stung, but she managed to focus her gaze on Evan, noting the terror in his wide eyes, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he took quick, shallow breaths.

What is he askin'? What happened?

Bonnie's mind struggled to catch up with Evan, her initial panic at being dragged out of the water so suddenly still lingering. Her heart had almost lurched out of her chest in her fear and now no matter how much she told herself there was no danger, her body didn't seem to understand that.

Me body . . . me body! I'm still in the bath!

"What are ye doin'?" Bonnie demanded, her voice coming out in a shrill cry. "Let go o' me!"

Stunned, Evan stumbled backwards as Bonnie drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to hide as much of her body as she could from him. It hardly mattered now, she supposed; Evan had already seen everything there was to see and Bonnie would never get over the embarrassment. Even now, her face burned with it, hotter than the water in which it was half-submerged.

"I thought . . . I thought somethin' had happened," said Evan sheepishly, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. He lowered his gaze and for the first time ever since Bonnie had first met him, he looked like a scolded child, uncertain and just as embarrassed as she felt. "Forgive me, I didnae mean tae frighten ye or . . . or . . ."

Or barge intae me chambers like this?

Bonnie didn't say those words out loud, not because she wanted to spare Evan any further embarrassment, but rather because she could hardly speak herself. What was there to say? Nothing either of them could say would make the situation any less awkward.

"Turn . . . turn around, please," Bonnie said, teeth grinding as she clenched her jaw. Evan swiftly turned, staring at the far wall, and Bonnie stepped out of the bath, drying herself quickly with the cloth the maids had given her, before she threw on her tunic and over that, her cloak. Perhaps it was a little ridiculous, pulling on her cloak in her own chambers, but until she could dress properly, it would have to do.

"Alright," she said, drawing in a deep breath. "Ye can turn around now."

Evan turned once more, his gaze resolutely glued to her face. He didn't dare glance below her neck, even though she was now fully covered from her shoulders to her ankles, as if he feared her clothes would suddenly disappear if he looked.

When Evan remained silent for several moments, Bonnie realized he wouldn't speak unless prompted. "Did ye wish tae speak with me?"

"Och aye," Evan said, as if he had only just remembered the purpose of his visit. "Aye . . . why were ye in the water?"

"Is that what ye wished tae ask me?"

Evan sighed, shaking his head. "Nay. I'm only concerned. I thought perhaps ye had fainted or somethin' had happened tae ye."

Bonnie responded with a heavy sigh of her own. Evan was only concerned; as embarrassed as she was, she shouldn't resent him for it. "I was fine. I only dipped me head in the water tae wash me hair."

It wasn't the truth, but Bonnie didn't know how to explain the truth to Evan. How could she put into words the desperate need for a few moments of quiet away from the world? How could she stop that need from sounding desperate?

She wasn't desperate, she told herself. She was only tired, weary to the bone. Once all this was over, she would be back to normal.

Unless I cannae avoid this marriage. Unless I end up weddin' Ruthven.

"That's good," Evan said and if he had any suspicions regarding her lie, then he didn't make them known. There was only relief in his features, in the way his shoulders finally slumped, falling from his ears. "I can only ask fer yer forgiveness fer comin' intae the room without yer permission."

"Yer forgiven," Bonnie assured him. "Ye were only concerned."

"Aye," said Evan, taking a stumbling step forward before stopping himself, as if he didn't want to get too close to Bonnie even now. "Aye, I'm very concerned, Bonnie. Ye must stay as far away from Ruthven as ye can."

Bonnie wanted to point out that she was doing her best all this time, refusing to be alone with him whenever she could avoid it. The worry in Evan's tone, though, stopped her. Instead, she asked, "Did somethin' happen?"

Something must have happened, she thought, if he was so eager to come into her chambers and warn her. Surely, Evan already knew she had no desire to be around Ruthven if she could help it.

"We found a letter which proves everythin' we suspected," Evan said hurriedly, his voice hushed as though he feared someone would overhear him. "Alaric has already left with copies o' it. He will distribute them all tae our allies."

Bonnie couldn't stop the relieved laugh that escaped her, her hand laying over her chest as the reality sank in. They finally had proof. The world would know Ruthven for the man he was and she could rest assured this wedding would never happen. The council wouldn't allow it once they found out Ruthven was connected to Balliol.

"Yer certain ye have all ye need?" she asked, needing that final reassurance that she was truly free from Ruthven.

"The clans have nae reason tae doubt us," Evan said. "But if they dae, I will steal the original letter an' show it tae everyone who doesnae believe us."

It wasn't as reassuring as Bonnie wanted it to be, after all, but she didn't allow herself any doubt. This would work, she told herself. Like Evan pointed out, the clans had no reason to distrust him or Alaric.

In her relief, in the joy of the moment, Bonnie flung herself into Evan's arms, laughing delightedly at the news. For a moment, he stiffened against her, staying still like a pillar of salt, before his arms finally wrapped around her in a tight embrace.

His body was solid heat against her, his arms enveloping her entirely as she laid her head on his shoulder. It occurred to her then that this was the feeling she had been seeking in the tub—this quiet warmth, this certainty that everything would be alright.

Pulling back just enough to look at him, Bonnie found Evan already staring at her, lips slightly parted as he drew in a soft breath. The golden light of the morning brought chiseled away the usual chill that his features held, replacing it with a pooling warmth in his dark eyes. The severity of the lines of his face was still there—the sharp, bearded jawline, the strong nose, the dark, heavy eyebrows—but it had shifted to something softer, as if the walls he always kept around him had begun to crumble.

It was in moments like this that Bonnie regretted the circumstances of their acquaintance. If only her council had decided Evan would be the best choice as her husband; if only she had been allowed to make that choice herself; if they had met at a gathering or by sheer chance then perhaps, they could be happy now.

Her own breath caught in her throat as Evan leaned closer and her eyes slipped shut, eagerly awaiting the kiss he would give her. Just as she felt the first brush of his lips on hers, though, a thunderous knock echoed in the room.

Bonnie planted her hands on Evan's chest and pushed him back before she could even realize what she was doing, but Evan was already stepping backwards, putting distance between them. It was too late, though; Bonnie had gathered too much momentum and she planted right into Evan's chest, the two of them falling backwards for a few terrifying seconds before he managed to right them both, one hand on Bonnie's waist and the other on the post of her bed.

"Miss MacLaren?"

It's Ruthven!

Evan, too, must have recognized the voice, as the two of them stared at each other, wide-eyed. Slowly, he brought his finger to his lips, silently motioning for her to be quiet.

"Miss MacLaren, may I come in?"

"One moment!" Bonnie shouted, as she had no other choice. Ruthven knew she was in the room if he was so insistent, and she couldn't remain silent and let him enter when she and Evan were in such a compromising position.

Taking a few steps back from him, she looked frantically around the room, trying to find a place for him to hide. At first, she thought about shoving him in the closet, but it seemed too small for a man his size. One wrong move and he would spill right out of it in front of Ruthven's eyes.

"Hide!" she hissed at him. Evan, too, was trying to find a hiding spot, before giving up on something more creative and falling to the floor. Quickly, he shimmied under the bed, his bulk knocking once against the frame before he settled—surely with no comfort—into the small space.

Bonnie took a moment to breath and smooth her cloak over her torso. Clearing her throat, she said, "Come in."

The door opened to reveal Ruthven, looking regal as always in his extravagant tunic, the fur trim of his collar an unnecessary expense for something that he only wore to break his fast. It didn't surprise Bonnie, though; every time she saw him, he looked even more grand than the last.

"Good mornin', Miss MacLaren," Ruthven said, his curious eyes taking in her appearance and then the tub full of water near her. "Are ye headin' somewhere?"

For a moment, Bonnie frowned in confusion before she remembered she was still wearing her cloak. "Ach! I was on me way tae the gardens, actually . . . it seems like such a lovely day."

As she spoke, both she and Ruthven glanced at the world outside, where most of the sun was concealed by dark clouds, nothing but a few golden rays shining through.

"Indeed," Ruthven said with a tight-lipped smile. "Perhaps ye wish tae dry yer hair first. Ye will catch a cold."

Bonnie's hand shot up to her still soaking hair, throat convulsing as she tried to swallow around the knot there. "How foolish I am!" she said, her voice sounding shrill even to her own ears. "I must have forgotten."

Ruthven stared at her as if she truly was quite dull-witted, though Bonnie could hardly blame him. "Well . . . I came tae ask ye if ye would like tae ride with me tae the loch on the morrow, as we discussed. Hopefully it will be an even nicer day."

With an awkward laugh, Bonnie dragged her gaze away from the window, cursing under her breath for the terrible excuse she had given him.

How can I avoid this ride? I was the one who suggested it in the first place!

The more she stalled in her answer, the more expectantly Ruthven looked at her, hands clasped behind his back and he shifted his weight back and forth from foot to foot. In the end, Bonnie realized there was nothing she could do but agree.

"I would be delighted," she said, only for something to pinch her ankle, making her jump in surprise.

"Are ye alright?" Ruthven asked, brows furrowing in a frown.

"Och aye," Bonnie assured through gritted teeth, subtly trying to kick Evan's hand away. "I believe there must be somethin' in me shoe. Well! It doesnae matter. Shall we leave after we break our fast?"

Ruthven tilted his head in agreement. "I would like that, aye."

Another pinch from Evan, this time more insistent. "Ach!" said Bonnie, suddenly aware of what he was trying to tell her. "But I would like tae have a chaperone with us. Me cousin. It is only proper that Evan accompanies us while we're nae yet wed, dinnae ye think?"

Ruthven's lips split into a wide grin, one that looked a little too pleased for Bonnie's tastes. What was it, she wondered, that pleased him so about her request? Surely, he would rather it was only the two of them, with no one else to interfere with his courting plans.

"Excellent," said Ruthven. "As ye said . . . it is only proper."

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Ruthven stared at Bonnie as though he was looking straight into her mind, peering into her thoughts. It was a ridiculous notion, and yet Bonnie couldn't help but feel a raw vulnerability, as if she had been flayed open right before his eyes.

"I will leave ye, then, tae finish . . . whatever it is yer doin'," Ruthven said. "Good day, Miss MacLaren."

"Good day."

The words were barely a whisper on Bonnie's lips as she watched Ruthven leave the room, closing the door behind him. Something about their interaction had filled Bonnie with unease. Something told her Ruthven knew something she didn't, something vital that she was missing.

But if he kent about Evan an' Alaric, then surely, he would have captured us all by now. Why hesitate?

Ruthven didn't seem to her like a man who waited for anything. As long as she, Evan, and Alaric lived, then it meant he was none the wiser.

Crawling out from under the bed, Evan stood and dusted himself. Once again, he kept his distance from Bonnie and she kept his distance from him. She never knew how to act around him after they were inevitably drawn into each other's orbit once they were left alone.

"That was too close," Evan said.

Ever since she had stepped foot in Castle Ruthven, Bonnie had that very same thought too often.