Highlander Most Wanted

Her cheek itched, and she lifted her hand to rub at the scar before gathering the neck of the hood and pulling it tight so the material was pressed against her face.



She wanted to flee. Duck in the back and escape to her chamber. The last thing she wanted was to stand before Bowen’s kin as though she had the right to do so. She was nothing to Bowen and even less to his clan. She had no interest in being present when she was judged.



“Genevieve, ’tis all right,” Bowen said in a soft voice as they neared the courtyard.



“Pray can I be excused, Laird?” she asked, her lips stiff from nerves.



He stopped in his tracks and gathered her hands in his, not caring who looked on. She wanted to pull her hands away before they were seen. Desperation gripped her. The last thing she wanted was to present a spectacle.



For a long moment he stared into her eyes, and then his gaze softened. He touched a hand to her face and gently pushed a tendril of hair from her cheek.



“Return then to your chamber. I’ll see you later.”



She all but fled across the terrain, making certain she circled the keep so she could enter through the back entrance to avoid any confrontation with Bowen’s kin.



Her heart beat so wildly that she feared passing out as she became light-headed. At the top of the stairs, she nearly ran into Taliesan, and she was so grateful to see the other woman that she gripped Taliesan’s hands.



“The Montgomery forces have arrived,” Taliesan said. “I heard them arrive from my window. They bring food and supplies. We’ll be safe from attack now, surely!”



“Aye,” Genevieve said as she sought to catch her breath.



She glanced toward her chamber and turned, all but dragging Taliesan along with her.



“Keep me company,” Genevieve urged. “I find I have no desire to be alone this night.”



Taliesan good-naturedly complied and, with the door shut behind them, Taliesan sent a concerned frown in Genevieve’s direction.



“You look as though you’ve suffered a fright, Genevieve. You’re nervous, and your hands are shaking! Whatever is the matter?”



Genevieve sought to calm herself as she stood in front of the hearth. She debated setting a fire, but she wasn’t sure her hands were steady enough for the task. Still, it would do her good to busy herself with something.



“I heard Teague say he would not be surprised if Graeme Montgomery himself arrived with the party bearing supplies.”



Taliesan nodded. “Aye, I saw him below. He arrived with his men. Teague and Brodie went out to greet him.” Then she frowned. “I did not see Bowen. Were you with him?”



Genevieve’s face exploded with warmth and she turned her back to Taliesan as she set logs for the fire. She and Bowen had spent a great deal of time with each other of late, but they’d not done so in an obvious manner. Bowen had been careful to keep appearances, something for which Genevieve was grateful, even if she had no care for what the McHughs thought.



It wasn’t so much what they thought as what they would do. They would take any opportunity to disparage Genevieve. Many held her accountable for Ian’s death, and now Patrick’s. With Bowen killing her attacker and issuing his warning to the entire clan that anyone doing harm to Genevieve would suffer the same fate, their animosity toward her had only intensified.



Bowen hadn’t mentioned the abbey again. He hadn’t mentioned her fate at all, which made her more uneasy with every passing day. She knew she was a fool to allow herself to dissolve into fancy where Bowen was concerned. She was nobody. She was dead.



“Genevieve?” Taliesan asked in a soft voice. “What is between you and Bowen? ’Tis forward of me to ask, I know, but I sense that he’s infatuated with you. Do you return his feelings?”



Genevieve set fire to wood and then stood back, staring into the crackling flames. Then she slowly turned to face Taliesan.



“There is naught between me and Bowen Montgomery. He has been kind to me. Nothing else.”



Taliesan sighed. “I see the way he looks at you. He fair eats you with his eyes.”



Genevieve shook her head. “There is naught to look upon.”



“You are still a beautiful lass, Genevieve. The mark Ian put on your face does not take that away.”



Genevieve regretted that she’d been so impulsive in urging Taliesan to enter her chamber. Taliesan was a sweet and genuine lass, but right now Genevieve wanted only to be alone and away from Taliesan’s innocent prying.



“I would go to bed now, Taliesan,” Genevieve said quietly.



Taliesan shuffled awkwardly to Genevieve’s side and suddenly Genevieve was enfolded in Taliesan’s arms.



“I did not mean to hurt you.”



Genevieve turned and hugged Taliesan to her. “I know you didn’t. ’Tis my fault for being too sensitive. I’m just weary and nervous over the Montgomerys’ arrival.”



“I will leave you to rest. Would you like me to have food brought up to your chamber on the morrow?”



“ ’Tis kind of you to offer, but I will be fine. I cannot hide in my chamber forever.”



Taliesan withdrew and, offering Genevieve a reassuring smile, limped slowly out the door, shutting it behind her.



Genevieve sagged onto the bed and flopped backward, staring at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back over the many days spent in Bowen’s company.



They’d been magical. She’d been filled with a longing that instilled an ache deep in her soul.



She didn’t entirely understand it—she didn’t understand Bowen or his seeming interest in her. Had she imagined it? Nay, he couldn’t feign something like that, and what purpose would be served by deceiving her in such a fashion?



He acted as though he genuinely cared, which puzzled her because, given the sins she’d committed against his clan, he should be angry. He should want vengeance. Or, at least, for her to pay for those sins.



And there was the fact that she was no great beauty and Bowen was so beautiful to look at that it hurt.



She was damaged. The whore of another. She wore his stamp of possession on her cheek, and that would never change. Every time Bowen looked upon her scar he’d be reminded that another man had possessed her.



A sense of futility filled her heart until she could no longer bear the weight of it.



What would happen to her now that Bowen’s brother had arrived? Would she be punished? Would she be sent away?



So many questions that she didn’t have answers for. And she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to demand them from Bowen or his brother, the laird.



If she was truthful, she’d admit that she wished with all her heart to go back in time and relive the past days over and over.



She was struck by the fact that, for the first time in a year, she’d been … happy. It was astounding, but it was true. She’d been content. She’d smiled. She’d laughed. And she’d been happy.



How long had it been since she’d enjoyed a moment in time? Precious minutes filled with contentment?



Not since she’d left the bosom of her family had she considered herself happy.



A warm tear leaked from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek.



Happiness seemed impossible. A lifetime ago. Something she’d thought never to experience again.



But, just for a moment, Bowen had given her that, only for her to have it cruelly snatched away by the encroachment of reality.



Chapter 30



“Graeme!” Bowen called as he strode across the courtyard to greet his brother.



Graeme turned from where he stood with Teague and Brodie, his eyebrows furrowed as he took in Bowen’s appearance. As Bowen neared, Graeme pulled him into a hearty embrace and slapped him on the back.



“You look hale and hearty,” Graeme observed. “From the report I received, I expected you to be abed convalescing.”



Bowen smiled. “ ’Twas greatly exaggerated, my injury. ’Twas naught but a scratch.”



“That scratch required extensive stitching,” Teague drawled.



Graeme’s gaze sharpened. “Is this true?”



Bowen shrugged. “I am well. ’Tis all that matters.”



“Aye,” Graeme agreed. “Indeed, ’tis all that matters.”



“How fares Eveline?” Bowen asked. “And Rorie? Did you leave them at the keep?”



Graeme shook his head. “Rorie stayed behind. She was distraught over missing her reading lessons. But I bore Eveline to her family at Armstrong Keep. I worry that she is not over the upset caused by her abduction.”



“I just hope you brought us food,” Teague grumbled. “I’m nigh to starving!”



“I would know all that has occurred here,” Graeme said, ignoring Teague’s outburst.



Bowen flinched inwardly, knowing that he would have to tell Graeme about Genevieve and the part she played in Eveline’s abduction. ’Twas a task he didn’t relish. The last thing he wanted was to be the one responsible for having more anger directed at the lass.



Already he was determined that, even though he had to tell Graeme all, he would bring his brother around on the matter of Genevieve. No matter what it took.



He hadn’t set it in his mind exactly what his plans were regarding the lass. He knew only that he didn’t want to be without her. And, in order to ensure that, he had to convince Graeme to offer her sanctuary within the very clan that Genevieve had betrayed.



That was assuming that Genevieve bore any affection at all for him.



It was a matter he had to drive from his mind, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.



“Let us go within, where we may speak,” Bowen said.



Graeme started to gesture toward Teague to accompany him and Bowen inside when Bowen put out his hand to stop his brother.



“Nay,” Bowen said quietly. “What I have to say needs be said in private.”



Teague’s eyebrows rose and Graeme’s eyes narrowed as he studied Bowen. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.



“Very well. Then let us go and discuss what’s on your mind.”



Bowen issued an order for Graeme’s horse to be attended to, and then he and Graeme left Teague and Brodie standing in the courtyard.



Forgoing the hall, where he should have offered his brother refreshment after his travels, he instead stopped a serving woman and issued a command for her to serve him and Graeme inside his chamber.



“Your secrecy is making me extremely curious,” Graeme said as they mounted the stairs. “Is aught amiss?”



Bowen remained silent until they were behind the closed door of his chamber. He directed Graeme to make himself comfortable in one of the chairs by the fire.



Graeme shook the travel dust from his tunic before easing down to stretch his legs before the fire.



“You worried me, Bowen,” Graeme began. “ ’Tis the truth I suffered great fright when I received word that the keep had been attacked and you were injured. Eveline was distraught. ’Twas difficult to persuade her to remain behind under the protection of her kin.”



Bowen grimaced. “ ’Twas not a serious matter. Were it not for the fact that Brodie kept pouring a potion down my throat, I would have been up from my sickbed in much less than two days.”



Graeme pursed his lips and studied Bowen. “How have things worked with the Armstrongs?”



“All is well. Aiden departed with Teague, but Brodie remained behind to lend his aid. ’Tis fortunate for me that he did. We may not have survived the attack and been able to drive them back were it not for the Armstrongs who elected to stay.”



Graeme nodded his satisfaction. “ ’Tis a good thing this alliance, then. Perhaps this will be a new dawn for the Montgomerys and the Armstrongs. Eveline has united us. ’Tis a fact that still mystifies me.”



“Patrick McHugh is dead,” Bowen said bluntly. “He was killed in battle.”



Graeme’s face twisted into a savage expression. “Good. I’d not suffer him to live a minute longer. Did you witness his killing firsthand?”



Bowen shook his head. “Nay, I did not.”



“ ’Tis a shame. I’d know whom to thank.”



“ ’Tis known who did the killing,” Bowen said. “ ’Twas a lass.”



Graeme’s head reared back. “A lass? In battle? What mean you?”



“ ’Tis a long story, and one I have need to tell,” Bowen said.



Graeme stared at him with narrowed eyes. A knock at the door interrupted whatever would be said next. Bowen went to admit the serving woman, and she nervously brought in the food for the two men.



When she finished setting out the food by the hearth, Bowen saw her to the door and in a low voice said, “See that Genevieve has food brought to her chamber this night. She will be hungry.”



The serving woman dipped a curtsy, her lips pressed into a fine line.



“So tell me of this lass who felled Patrick McHugh,” Graeme said as Bowen returned to the fire.



“I would tell you the whole if it,” Bowen said. “ ’Tis too important not to.”