Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(17)

Taliesan’s gaze was hopeful as she stared back at Bowen. “Then you’ll go after her?”

Bowen’s lips formed a grim line of determination as he rose. “I’ll not return without her.”

Chapter 9

Genevieve stared at the rolling hillside dotted with rock outcroppings that spanned as far as the eye could see. A feeling of hopelessness weakened her with its intensity, and she tried valiantly to shake it off.

It mattered naught where she was. Walking out of the keep had been freeing in a manner she hadn’t expected. As soon as she’d ventured beyond the walls, the oppressive weight bearing down on her had lifted.

No matter what happened to her from now on, she was no longer a helpless victim. Ian McHugh couldn’t use or debase her ever again. No more would the McHugh clan mock and revile her.

She pulled the cape closer around her face, though there was no one to see her. There wasn’t a single person or animal that she could see in any direction.

The keep had long since faded behind a hillside as she put more distance between her and her prison of a year.

Someone would help her. Someone would direct her to an abbey. She had to have faith, because at this point she simply couldn’t fathom any more cruelty in the world around her.

There were good people in this world. She knew it firsthand. Her family were the best kind of people. They would die if they knew of her circumstances, and that was why she’d die before ever divulging her fate. It was kinder to let them think she’d been killed than to have them know the truth.

Her kin were loyal to their bones and fiercely protective of everyone they called friend or clansmen. Though court was rife with deception and greed, Genevieve had never experienced these things herself. Everyone had been kind and courteous to her. Everyone save Ian McHugh.

She froze as a distant sound reached her ears. Faint vibrations tingled her feet. A horse’s hooves. Someone was close, and riding closer still.

She fled toward a small grove of trees nestled in the valley of two hills. A stream flowed through the middle, and congregated close to the banks were trees and other greenery. She all but dived into the bushes, praying that she hadn’t been spotted.

The sound grew closer and then it stopped. She held her breath and peeked through the branches to see the body of a horse on the path she’d been walking. She couldn’t see who was astride the horse because the foliage obscured her view.

Then the horse started forward again, and Genevieve sighed in relief. Still, she waited several long moments before extricating herself from the bushes and making her way back to the path.

The climb over the next hillside took more of a toll than the others. It was steeper and the rise was higher. When she topped the hillside and began her descent, she halted so suddenly that she nearly tripped and went tumbling down the incline.

Astride his horse just a short distance away was Bowen Montgomery. He was facing in her direction, calmly surveying her, almost as if he’d been waiting for her.

She had no idea what to do. No idea why he was here. Her first instinct was to flee, but she’d done nothing wrong. Whatever sins Ian committed had nothing to do with her, and she’d be damned if she was going to pay for them.

Pulling calm around her like a warrior’s armor, she walked stiffly on, her head down. She was past Bowen when she heard him sigh. Then the soft thud of his feet hitting the ground as he dismounted his horse.

It took everything she had not to panic and run.

“Damn it, Genevieve.”

Bowen’s soft curse reached her ears mere seconds before his hand curled around her arm and he pulled her to a halt, turning her so she faced him.

It was instinctive to ward him off with her hands, to put a protective barrier between herself and the much bigger warrior.

But the action sparked anger in his eyes. His jaw tightened with fury, and fear scuttled up her spine.

“Don’t look at me that way,” he growled. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you. I’m angry because you thought you had to defend yourself from me. No one is going to hurt you, Genevieve. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

She stared at him in bewilderment, wondering where this outburst had come from. For that matter, what was he doing here and why had he stopped her?

She finally found her voice—and her courage.

“What are you doing here?” she queried. “Why have you come after me?”

He cursed again, making her flinch with the vehemence of his blasphemies.

“Think you I’m going to let you walk out of that keep alone, unprotected, with no clothing, coin, or food? How do you expect that you would last even a day? A lone female with no protector? You’d be easy prey for any man who happened along, and no one would ever be the wiser.”

The blood drained from her face, because that was precisely what had happened with Ian. He’d slaughtered her escort and whisked her away to a life of captivity and depravity. No one had been the wiser. To this day, no one knew.

Genevieve McInnis was dead.

“I will not stay there any longer,” she said in as firm a voice as she could muster. But it lacked conviction. She was afraid, and it was obvious to Bowen that she was afraid. Any fool could hear the quiver in her voice and see that her hands shook. “I already humiliated myself when I swore never to allow myself that kind of humiliation again. There’s naught left but for me to go before I sacrifice what little dignity I have left.”