Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(10)

Chapter 5

Bowen’s nostrils flared and his lips twitched as he stared at Genevieve, watching as the life literally left her body, her eyes, her very soul.

Never before had he seen death in the gaze of someone who wasn’t mortally wounded. But her eyes were wounded. The death blow was figurative rather than literal, but it had inflicted just as much damage.

All the color fled her face. She was dangerously pale, and she swayed like a sapling in the wind.

Tears filled her eyes, and he could see her biting into the inside of her cheek in an effort to call them back. Her hand went to her face, covering the scar, almost as if she sought to hide from the view and judgment of others.

Here was a woman who despised being weak before others, and yet a line had been crossed that even she couldn’t pretend indifference to.

Teague’s jaw twitched, and he glared a hole through the McHughs who’d been so loose with their tongues.

Bowen waited, fully expecting Genevieve to defend herself, and perhaps he wanted to know what it was she would say. She didn’t strike him as a woman who had any issue with stating her mind. She’d certainly done so with him.

Instead, she walked stiffly past him, her gait slow and painful, as if it took everything she possessed just to remain standing. It was the shuffle of a much older woman, one wizened with age, the weight of an entire lifetime bearing down on her.

Teague stared at the offending McHughs in disbelief. Brodie and Aiden both frowned, and then Brodie made a move toward Genevieve, but she glanced up, and when she saw Brodie take that step forward, she stiffened further and hurried at a faster pace out of the hall.

Bowen shook his head, still unable to believe the overt animosity directed at a woman who should inspire pity in others. Not such hatred.

The scar had been so vivid against skin so pale that, indeed, she’d looked more dead than alive.

“What the hell was all that about?” Brodie demanded, his jaw stiff with rage.

He advanced toward Taliesan, and she backed up so quickly that her lame leg buckled. Her limbs got tangled and she went down hard.

“Brodie,” Bowen said sharply. “You’re frightening the wits out of the lass.”

Brodie scowled harder, but he stopped his advance and then, to Taliesan’s obvious befuddlement, he reached down and scooped her up, setting her upright once more.

“Are you hurt?” Brodie demanded. “My apologies, mistress. ’Twas not my intention to frighten you. I am angered by what I just witnessed, and I’m puzzled as to why no one put a stop to it.”

Taliesan swallowed with visible effort, her eyes flashing nervously among the four men standing before her.

Behind Taliesan, Genevieve’s tormentors scooted discreetly in the opposite direction, but Bowen called them down.

“You’ll not leave this hall without my by-your-leave,” he said in an icy tone. “And I’ll not give it until I have an explanation for the disparagement of the lass.”

The McHugh man’s lips curled, and anger lit up the woman’s eyes. She fairly seethed, and her hands went to her hips.

“ ’Tis not disparagement if ’tis the truth,” the woman said in a haughty tone.

“And yet she championed you,” Bowen said softly. “I wonder why she bothered.”

The woman flushed, her cheeks growing red. Her eyes lowered in shame, and the man shifted uncomfortably beside her.

“She is naught but Ian’s whore,” the man muttered.

Bowen exchanged glances with Teague, Brodie, and Aiden. Then his gaze settled on Taliesan. It was obvious he would find no answers here. None that would satisfy him at any rate.

“Where would Genevieve have gone?” Bowen asked.

His brother looked surprised. Brodie looked puzzled by Bowen’s question, and Bowen supposed he could understand their confusion. He had very abruptly turned the topic of conversation. But the truth was, he couldn’t stomach standing in front of Genevieve’s tormentors. What measure of person would seek to humiliate another in such a fashion?

They had the matter of the McHugh holding to determine, as well as the fate of the clansmen, and yet he was inquiring as to the lass’s whereabouts. He wasn’t even sure himself why he’d asked, but the look in her eyes, the absolute desolation that had washed the color right out of her face, still haunted him.

“She oft spends her time alone,” Taliesan whispered. “Usually in her chamber.”

“And where is her chamber?” Bowen asked patiently.

“ ’Tis up the stairs,” Taliesan stammered. “All the way to the end of the hall. In the tower. Next to Ian’s chamber.”

Bowen noted the hesitation in her voice, saw the way her gaze skittered sideways when she mentioned the proximity to Ian’s chamber.

He wondered how much truth there was in the taunts of the others. The idea that this woman had been Ian’s mistress turned his stomach. How could she give herself willingly to an abuser of women? She well knew what had happened to Eveline. She’d been the one to point Graeme to the dungeon. And yet she’d willingly give her body to such a monster?

His disgust nearly choked him.

He glanced at Teague. “Have Taliesan give you a tour of the holding. Ensure that she suffers no pain or injury.”

Taliesan flushed, her eyes cloudy with embarrassment over Bowen’s matter-of-fact reference to her damaged leg.