Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

B onnie's eyes shot open only to find that everything was dark. There was little light around her, only what remained of the dying fire and the few rays of moonlight that penetrated through the branches of the trees. She didn't know at first what it was that had woken her. Could it have been a dream? Could it have been pain from her shoulder injury? Could it have been nothing more than the stress of the past few days?

But then she heard it. There was a sound not too far from her and Evan, a sound which reminded her too much of footsteps. It wasn't the natural rhythm of the forest. It wasn't a small critter, trying to find some prey in the middle of the night. No, Bonnie was quite certain it was a human and the only reason she could come up with regarding their presence was an attack.

Which could only mean there were more than one of them.

Slowly and quietly, she shook Evan awake, instantly motioning at him to stay silent. At first, he opened his mouth to speak, confused as he was so suddenly woken from a deep sleep, but Bonnie was quick to clamp a hand over his mouth silencing him.

Then, his gaze snapped away from her when another sound echoed around them and he, too, knew that there was someone watching them.

Bonnie pulled her hand back, knowing Evan would stay quiet. The darkness around them was thick, but it was even thicker the farther she looked from the fire, where whoever was watching them was hiding. It hid them better than it hid her and Evan, who were close to the small flames and every movement they made was much more visible to their attackers.

Just as several footsteps suddenly sounded, rushing towards their small clearing, Evan stood, his sword already in his hand. Bonnie saw three men, all of them large and armed, approach, circling around them as she cowered by the fire.

What was there for her to do? She had no weapons on her and even if she did, her dominant hand was useless. She couldn't fight. All she could do was hope that Evan could kill or at least chase away all three of them while she found a place to hide.

But she couldn't move. From the way the three men were circling them, there was nowhere for her to go without running straight into one and that would only make matters worse. It was safer, she thought, to stay where she was rather than try to hide or escape.

The only sound in the clearing was that of the men's footsteps and of the night—the rustling of the leaves, a nearby river whose gurgle could be heard even there. Before her, Evan stood perfectly still, waiting for the first attack.

"When I tell ye," he said, his voice quiet so that only she could hear him. "Run tae the horses. Untie them an' flee. I'll try tae follow."

Bonnie's voice died in her throat as Evan spoke those last words. She knew there was no time for arguing, not when death was so near, but the last thing she wanted was to leave him there all alone against three men. She couldn't flee without him. She couldn't go on, knowing that he would die there.

What she could do, though, was follow his orders and untie the horses at his command. It would give them a chance to escape, no matter how small, and so Bonnie pushed herself up but didn't stand quite yet, as she didn't want to make herself into a target. She only watched carefully, keeping her ears open for Evan's command.

The first man to attack was the one from the right, charging towards Evan. He was savage in his attack, swinging his sword wildly as the other two joined him in an unfair fight, the three of them quickly threatening to overwhelm Evan. With all of them occupied, though, Bonnie saw the same opening as Evan would and stood, muscles tense as she waited one moment, then another.

"Now!" Evan shouted and Bonnie shot into a sprint, rushing to the horses. No pain slowed her down. She could feel nothing but the wild beating of her heart even as she used her right arm, trying to untie them as quickly as she could. In that moment, she was certain she could have even shot her bow or fought with a knife. Such was the adrenaline that kept her going, allowing her to feel no discomfort from her injury, no fear from the attack.

"Go!" she heard Evan say, but she decided right then and there that she would go nowhere without him. The clanging of the swords and the shouts of the men, the grunts coming from Evan all filled the clearing with deafening sound. The horses, spooked as they were, reared and neighed, trying desperately to get away from Bonnie's grip as she held tightly onto the reins, trying to stop them.

Soon, they would overpower her, she knew. They were both young, strong horses and the only reason why they hadn't yet fled was because they were too confused and terrified to even flee in the dark. Behind her, she heard a grunt of pain and turned with wide, fearful eyes to see that one of the men dropped to the ground, dead, blood pouring out of the wound in his chest.

The other two men took a few steps back from Evan, who was looking at them as though he was issuing a challenge. Before any of them could move, though, Evan's horse reared once more and this time, it managed to escape Bonnie's hold on it, rushing into the clearing. Bonnie's eyes met Evan's for a moment so brief, it was almost as though she had imagined it. It was enough, though, for them to know they had both reached the same conclusion: there was only one way out of this that could almost guarantee the safety of them both.

Bonnie jumped onto her horse just as Evan swung around, grabbed the reins to his, and still running alongside it, heaved his body up to the saddle. Something akin to awe sparked within Bonnie as she watched him, the feat nothing short of impressive, a display of his physical strength that left even the two attackers stunned, unable to do anything but watch as she and Evan fled the clearing. They had no horses, after all, at least not nearby. It would take them too long to grab them and follow in pursuit, especially in the dark, and they knew it just as well as Bonnie and Evan did.

Steering and controlling their frightened horses was no easy task. Bonnie felt the mare's fear, her panic as she galloped erratically down the path, eager to get as far away from the commotion of the clearing as she could. A less skilled rider would have already fallen off the saddle and the only reason why Bonnie could still hold on and even fought the mare's instincts was her early training and the fact that her father had encouraged her to ride instead of taking the family carriage ever since she was a young girl.

For a while, she rode alone through the narrow path that led away from the forest. Evan's own spooked horse had taken him somewhere through the woods, through a more treacherous path, and Bonnie kept her eyes open for any sign of him—but also for any sign of danger, which could still lurk in the shadows. The men who had attacked them didn't look like brigands. From the glimpses Bonnie had caught, they were well-groomed, with cropped beards or clean-shaven, in cloaks that may have been patched and mended, but had been done so with care and expertise. Their swords had glinted in the light of the fire, newly polished and sharpened.

No, those had been soldiers, not brigands. But that didn't mean that there were no brigands lurking around, waiting for the right moment to strike, and Bonnie was defenseless without the use of her arm.

It was then that her shoulder began to ache once more, that throbbing pain returning in waves of increasing intensity. At first, it did nothing more than bother her, distracting her attention from the shadows. As she rode, though, her arm stiffened, pain shooting down its length with every movement she made, as though the tip of that arrow sank into her flesh again and again, relentless in its search of a target.

A whistle cracked the silence around her, loud and clear, and Bonnie had to swallow back a cry of pain as her horse reared once more, forcing her to tighten her grip. Then, it stopped, idly turning to the left and right as Bonnie took a moment to catch her breath.

Evan found her moments later, bringing his own horse to a halt next to her. Sweat coated his brow, glistening on his skin under the light of the moon, and his cheeks were flushed with exertion, eyes wide as he reached for her arm and cradled it gently in his hand.

"Are ye alright?" he asked. "Were ye hurt?"

"Nay," said Bonnie, shaking her head. "Ye?"

"Nay," Evan assured her. "But we must keep ridin'. It's too dangerous tae stay here much longer."

"Aye," said Bonnie, already gripping the reins once more. "How far is Castle MacGregor?"

"We should be there by morn," Evan said. "But we could stop an' rest once we're far enough from Ruthven."

"I dinnae need tae rest," Bonnie said, knowing it would be for her benefit rather than Evan's. She would much rather keep going, riding as far as the horses would take them before they reached the point of exhaustion, putting as much space between her and Ruthven as she could.

Those men werenae brigands.

That thought had bothered her ever since it had first appeared in her mind. The only one who could have any reason to send men after them was Ruthven himself, but that had to mean that he knew the truth, at least partially.

Or was he simply so angry we left that the sent men after us?

It sounded absurd, but then again, she had found out plenty about Ruthven that would seem absurd at first glance. He had always seemed like the perfect gentleman, up until he wasn't.

"Let us continue, then," said Evan, his voice pulling Bonnie out of her thoughts. She didn't share any of them with him yet, though she would be surprised if he wasn't thinking the same things as she did, suspecting Ruthven just as much as her. It was the only explanation that fit.

What if those men who attacked us near the loch were his men, too?

But why would he risk the bride he so wished tae have?

Maybe the arrow that struck her was meant for Evan and not for her, after all. Maybe he was the one they were trying to kill, Ruthven eager to get him out of the way so he could have Bonnie under his thumb, doing as he pleased with her with no one around to stop him.

The thought sent a chill down Bonnie's spine. They had both been so much closer to peril than they realized.

For the rest of the night, they rode in silence, pushing their horses as much as they could to reach Castle MacGregor by the morning. The sun had just risen in the horizon when the hill appeared before them after a bend in the path, the castle sitting atop like a gleaming jewel in the morning sun.

"There it is," said Evan as he and Bonnie came to a brief stop, letting the horses drink from a small creek and munch on the grass that grew on its banks. "Home."

Bonnie gazed upon the castle, taking in the pale rock of its walls, the turrets and the steepled roofs, the green valley that stretched under the hill. It was a beautiful place, one that she would be happy to call home, though she didn't know if she ever would.

Evan had been clear: he had to speak with his council first, and that could either mean that he truly meant it and there was a chance his council would reject his decision or that he was merely trying to avoid any commitment by using them as an excuse. Either way, Bonnie feared her chances were lower than she would have liked.

Once the horses were ready to continue their journey, they made their way down that hill, through the valley, and up the next, finally reaching the gates of Castle MacGregor. Upon seeing their laird, the guards threw the gates open while shouting for Alaric, who appeared in the courtyard before Bonnie and Evan had even had a chance to dismount, his face pallid and waxen with concern.

"Ruthven kens," was the first thing Evan told his brother, confirming Bonnie's suspicions that he had come to the same conclusion as she had. "He sent men after us. Or after me."

"Well, he certainly kens we're nae Bonnie's cousins," Alaric said, rushing over to Evan. "I dinnae ken how much else he kens but . . . I wouldnae be surprised if he kens everythin'."

"We must prepare fer?—"

A dry cough sounded around them as Bonnie jumped off her horse with Evan's help. It drew everyone's gazes on the source, and Bonnie turned to see a man standing a few paces away from them. He was tall and lean, his skin weathered by time but his body appearing robust still. His pale blue eyes found Bonnie first and then slid over to Evan, who stood a little straighter at the man's presence, a small, confused frown on his face.

He couldn't place him, Bonnie knew, and so was being careful with how he addressed him.

"Laird MacGregor," said the man before Evan could speak. He bowed to Evan, but despite the inherent submission of the gesture, he still held a haughty, unaffected air about him. "I am Dougal McIlroy, advisor tae the Lady Medea Buchanan. I am here tae discuss yer weddin' tae yer betrothed."

The pain that tore through Bonnie's chest was akin to that which she felt as the arrow pierced her flesh, leaving a gaping wound in its path. The word betrothed bounced around in her mind again and again, a torment which seemed to have no end. Evan was already betrothed to someone else. That man was not here to discuss a betrothal but rather a wedding, and now Bonnie knew Evan for the liar he was.

He had promised her he would speak to the council. He had promised her he would at least try to convince them, but what was there to convince them of when he already had a woman? This was an arrangement he couldn't change without a valid reason without risking the wrath of Clan Buchanan, and no man was foolish enough to put his clan in peril because of a woman.

He kent . . . he had always kent an' he lied tae me.

And he had even pretended to care about her virtue. How could he care when he so thoughtlessly ruined her when he knew there was no chance, they could ever wed? How could he be so cruel?

Bonnie looked at Evan and suddenly he, too, was as pale as his brother, the color drained from his face when their gazes met. Good, Bonnie thought. Perhaps it meant he could still feel guilt over what he had done. She hoped it would torment him for the rest of his days.

"I dinnae understand," Evan said, turning back to Mr. McIlroy.

"I think I was quite clear," the man said, turning on his heel and taking a few steps towards the castle. Then, he stopped and looked at Evan over his shoulder, seemingly puzzled to find him so far away. "Well? Follow me, Laird MacGregor."

It was a blatant disregard of etiquette, but Mr. McIlroy seemed to have no patience or desire to wait for Evan. He walked around the castle as if he owned the place, and Bonnie could only wonder what kind of clan the Buchanans were for one of their advisors to have such power over a laird.

As if dazed, Evan gave Bonnie another brief glance before he followed Mr. McIlroy into the castle. From where she stood, frozen in her spot, Bonnie couldn't hear them, but she could see Evan gesturing wildly as he spoke to Mr. McIlroy, who remained impassive as he listened. Then, they both disappeared inside, Alaric trailing quickly after them.

And then Bonnie was all alone, with nothing to hold onto but her grief.

"Lady MacLaren?"

It was a soft, melodic voice, one which befitted a girl just at the cusp of maturity, but when Bonnie turned around, she saw a young woman close to her age who towered over her. Her hair was ink-dark, spilling down her back in straight strands, and her green eyes held a softness Bonnie had seen in few people before.

"Isabeau MacGregor," the girl said when Bonnie didn't respond, curtsying elegantly. Bonnie rushed to copy her, remembering her manners, but compared to her, she felt like a clumsy drunkard who had never even seen a curtsy before. "It's a pleasure tae meet ye. Alaric has told me much about ye."

Isabeau . . . this is their sister.

Evan had spoken of her a few times and now that Bonnie was looking at her, she certainly saw the resemblance. Even though she was far more delicate in her features than her two brothers, who upon first glance seemed like brutes, she had the same colors, the same way of carrying herself with imperial dignity.

"Miss MacGregor!" Bonnie said, the words rushing out of her mouth. "Forgive me . . . I must be tired from the journey an?—"

"Please, dinnae apologies. An' call me Isabeau," she said. "A friend o' me brothers is a friend o' mine as well."

Bonnie smiled. "Then please, call me Bonnie."

"Come, Bonnie," Isabeau said, as she threaded her arm around Bonnie's. "Let us head inside."