Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

T he next morning arrived too soon for Bonnie's liking. It was just past dawn when a maid woke her under orders from Ruthven himself, claiming that the man had requested her appearance at breakfast once she had prepared for the horse ride to the lake. Reluctantly, Bonnie stood and dressed, wishing that she could somehow get away with staying in her chambers instead.

She could pretend to be sick, she thought, feigning a cough. But then, that would only prolong the inevitable and draw unwanted attention to herself. The last thing she needed was Ruthven fretting over her, concerned about her health.

No, it was better to take that ride with him, Bonnie thought. After all, Evan would be right there with her.

The breakfast was a quick affair. Ruthven had summoned Evan, too, and the three of them broke their fast while making small talk about the weather—already sunny, if a little cold—the bannocks—very fresh and soft that morning—and the horses they were to take—very calm and obedient, Ruthven assured her. He seemed excited that morning; perhaps a little too excited for something as simple as a ride to the nearest lake. In contrast, Evan seemed sullen, barely saying a word the tire time they sat around the table.

Once they were brought their horses, Bonnie took a few moments to acquaint herself with the mare she had been given. She was a young one, strong and sturdy and white as snow, calm as Bonnie strapped her bow and arrows to the saddle. Petting her flank, Bonnie smiled as the mare snorted, bowing its head to munch on the grass that grew at the edges of the castle grounds near the gates.

"A good day fer a ride," Ruthven said, not for the first time that morning. For a moment, he stood with his hands on his hips as he stared out into the distance, then up to the blue sky adorned with small, fluffy white clouds. "A good day, indeed."

Bonnie exchanged a quick glance with Evan, and though he frowned as he glanced back at Ruthven, he said nothing. Once Ruthven mounted his horse, the two of them followed him and they rode past the gates and down the path that led to the lake.

"I used tae visit this lake with me faither when I was a bairn," Ruthven said as they fell into a leisurely pace, Bonnie riding between him and Evan. It was a comfortable path, worn smooth and wide, allowing them to stay next to each other with ease. The breeze blowing past them was pleasant, gentle, ruffling the hem of Bonnie's cloak. "I enjoyed it greatly as a young lad. Sadly, I dinnae often visit it anymore."

"Why is that?" Bonnie asked, figuring it would be better if she feigned interest with Ruthven. The more interested in him he thought she was, the easier it would be for her to gain his favor, to stop him from ever suspecting her.

"I dinnae have the time," said Ruthven. "It is unfortunate, but this is the life o' a laird. I'm sure Laird MacGregor understands, though he has been away from his lands fer a long time. Tell me, how is it that ye can stay away fer so long?"

"I have loyal men," Evan called from Bonnie's right side. "I trust them with me life an' I trust them with me clan. Me council can always take care o' me people whenever I am away, an' now that Alaric is returnin' home fer his lassie, he can also take over fer a while, until I can return."

"Ye can return at any moment, surely," said Ruthven, and it was the first time that day that his tone was so strained. "What is keepin' ye here?"

Bonnie's heart came to a halt, skipping a beat, then another. Fear ran cold in her veins, the implications of Ruthven's words not escaping her.

He wanted Evan gone—or perhaps he wanted an explanation for his presence other than the fact that he was there for Bonnie. Did he not believe this excuse anymore, she wondered? Or had he simply tired of Evan's presence, wanting Bonnie all to himself, with no one there to stop him from finally getting what he wanted?

Would he force me tae wed him were Evan tae be gone? Would he care about what I desire? What me council desires?

He had the council's approval, though. They had sent Bonnie there for the explicit purpose of marrying him and she doubted there would be something they could do if Ruthven forced her into a marriage, even if they found out the truth about him.

"Me cousin," Evan said gruffly, his gaze glued straight ahead. "Until Bonnie wishes me tae leave, I will stay."

Silence stretched over them for several moments as they rode down the path, Bonnie right in the middle of it. Though she, too, looked straight ahead, she could feel Ruthven's gaze as he looked just past her shoulder and at Evan, the tension he radiated almost palpable in the air around them. She wrung her mind for something to say, anything that would take the attention off Evan and back to herself, but she didn't know how to subtly change the subject.

In the end, she gave up on the subtlety, as the silence lasted too long.

"Tell us more about the lake, me laird," she said. It took Ruthven a few moments, but he finally tore his gaze away from Evan to look at Bonnie instead, his lips stretching into a tight, thin smile. "Is it big? I've never seen a very big lake . . . the ones near me home are all quite small."

"It's quite big," Ruthven confirmed and his tone held the same cheery quality as it did at breakfast, only now Bonnie recognized how artificial it sounded. "There's even a small waterfall that feeds it. It's a lovely place."

"It sounds marvelous," said Bonnie, mustering a smile of her own. It wasn't entirely sincere, she knew, but she hoped it was enough to convince Ruthven she was as excited about this short trip as he was. "Is it possible tae swim there?"

"Och aye," said Ruthven. "Though the water is very cold. Perhaps too cold fer a lady."

"I find it pleasant," Bonnie assured him. "Just as ye visited yer loch with yer faither, so did me sister an' I with our maither. When we were young, our parents took us there often an' we swam with our maither fer hours an' hours."

Bonnie remembered those days fondly, though any mention of her parents brought a familiar ache in her chest, one that had never ceased ever since their demise. When she glanced over at Evan, he found him clenching his jaw, the change in his mood hardly perceptible. She noticed, though; there was no mistaking it for anything else now that she knew about his parents.

As they entered a part of the path that ran through the forest, Bonnie couldn't help but notice the way Evan glanced around them, gaze searching through the trees and bushes as though he had caught a glimpse of something. She saw the way his fingers curled around the reins. She saw how his other hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword, seemingly in a casual way. There was little that betrayed the tension in him, and the only reason why Bonnie could recognize it at all was because it reminded her of the way she tensed momentarily when catching a glimpse of game while hunting, before relaxing into her hunting stance.

Is he huntin' or is he hunted?

Something told Bonnie the latter was more likely. Evan said nothing, perhaps not wanting to alarm her, but Bonnie was alarmed nevertheless. She, too, began to look around, wondering if she could see whatever it was that he was seeing. To her left, Ruthven continued his leisurely ride, showing no signs of concern.

Perhaps there is nae reason fer concern. Ruthven kens these parts better than anyone. If somethin' was wrong, he would ken, surely.

And yet now that all her senses were alert, Bonnie couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. The short hairs at the back of her neck stood straight, a shiver running through her that left her feeling chilled to the bone in a way that had nothing to do with the gentle breeze.

This is a thick part o' the forest. If someone were tae attack us, this is where they would dae it.

And yet no attack came. The forest only became thicker and thicker, the tree branches growing closer together. Sparse sunlight shone through the lattice of the leaves, dappled and dim, shadows growing dark and long around them.

"Is there nae other way tae reach the loch?" she asked. This seemed like a dangerous path, one which should be avoided if possible.

"There is," Ruthven said. "But it is much longer. It goes around the forest an' takes hours. This way is the fastest."

It made sense, then, Bonnie thought, that Ruthven would choose this one. They didn't have all day ahead of them, after all. They were meant to be back before nightfall.

From the corner of her eye, Bonnie saw Evan looking at her, his gaze flitting back and forth between her face and her bow—a silent warning.

Bonnie's hand hovered just over her bow as the first arrow whizzed past her head. The sound of it splitting the air right next to her ear forced her to freeze for a moment, every muscle in her body seizing up in shock, her breath rushing out of her lungs in a terrified exhale. Immediately after, though, her bow was in her hand, along with an arrow that she quickly strung, firing it towards the general direction of her attacker with no hesitation.

In the chaos, she didn't know where the archer was, but it didn't matter. She only wanted to create a distraction, to make it harder for the other to find the mark.

Within seconds, more arrows followed, coming from several directions. A cry tumbled out of Bonnie's lips as some of them came too close, her horse—now filled with terror—rearing at the face of imminent threat.

"Stay behind me!" Evan called as he positioned himself between her and the arrows, grunting as he tried to steer his equally fearful horse into position. It was no easy task, keeping them from running away towards any direction they wished, and as much as Bonnie tried to keep her balance on her mare while stringing another arrow, she was close to slipping off her saddle with every movement the horse made.

"Bonnie!" Ruthven called. It was the first time he had called her by her given name, and even in the middle of the fight, Bonnie couldn't help but think it sounded odd, coming from him. "Come with me, quickly!"

As he spoke, Ruthven made to turn back and head out of the forest, towards the castle, but Bonnie refused to move. She was not going to follow Ruthven, the two of them fleeing. She was not going to leave Evan there alone.

Instead of responding, she began to fire arrow after arrow once more, taking the chance when Evan came close and grabbed the reins, steering both their horses expertly. Suddenly, unburdened by the task of keeping her mare still, Bonnie could focus on picking out her targets where they were hidden between the trees. One of them was to their right, she saw—a man whose arrows landed too close for comfort. Taking a deep breath, she aimed and let her arrow fly through the air, hitting her target fractions of a second later.

The man collapsed immediately, but the rain of arrows didn't stop. Neither did Ruthven's shouts as he commanded Bonnie to follow him, his voice ringing clearly in her ears even as she ignored him. Evan, on the other hand, remained silent save for the grunts of effort as he controlled the horses, using his body as a shield for Bonnie.

She had to take out the others quickly. One of those arrows could find their target in Evan at any moment.

She spotted another man up in one of the trees ahead, standing on a sturdy branch. From where she sat on her horse, Bonnie had a clear view of him, and all she needed to do was twist her body to the left, firing another arrow. When he moved, though, to grab another of his own, Bonnie's flew straight past him, embedding itself on the tree trunk behind him, splinters flying everywhere.

In the time it took the man to utter a curse, Bonnie had reached for another arrow, this time determined not to miss. The horses' hooves were deafening as they stomped against the ground, demanding to be released from Evan's control—so was Ruthven's voice, echoing all around them. Still, Bonnie shut everything but her target out, exhaling as she let the arrow fly and tear through the man's chest, sending him tumbling to the ground.

There was only one archer left, she knew. He was somewhere up ahead of them and her gaze scanned the area around them, looking into the bushes and the trees for any sign of him.

"I dinnae see him!" she called, hoping Evan or at least Ruthven could spot him.

It took a few moments of futile search before Evan shouted, "There! In the bushes!"

Bonnie followed Evan's directions, catching a glimpse of the last archer in a thicket several meters ahead of them. Relieved, she strung one last arrow, sending it towards the man.

Her relief was short-lived. Just as the arrow left her grip, a searing pain exploded in her shoulder, a cry of agony tearing itself through her chest. When she looked down, she saw blood trickling steadily down, soaking her tunic, an arrow sticking out of her right under the end of her clavicle.

No pain she had ever experienced could compare to this. The muscles torn by the arrow's tip burned, the ache radiating down her arm and chest. The bow fell from her hand, her fingers letting go of their grip on their own accord, and her vision began to go dark at the edges with every pulse of pain that shot through her.

Distantly, she heard Evan call her name, but with every passing moment, his voice grew dimmer and the ringing in her ears louder. The last thing she felt before darkness finally swallowed her was her body slipping off the saddle of her horse. Before she met the ground, the world went dark.