Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(31)

“Give aid to your laird!” she bellowed in a voice that carried across the courtyard.

One of his eyebrows went up at her forceful command. The lass would do well leading troops in battle. A man would have to be a fool to gainsay a woman with a growl like hers.

“Ah hell, Bowen, you’ve gone and managed to injure yourself.”

Brodie’s aggrieved voice echoed close to Bowen’s ears, but he lacked the energy to look up and find Brodie’s position.

“The lass saved me,” he said faintly, thinking that if he were to die Genevieve should at least be credited with prolonging his life a few more minutes.

“You’ll not die,” Genevieve snapped. “ ’Tis a paltry wound at best.”

“Now she mocks my pain,” Bowen said mildly.

Brodie’s face appeared in front of Bowen, worried, his eyes crinkled with concern. “You’re not making any sense. Babbling about like a drunken sot. And you’re bleeding like a slaughtered pig.”

“Am I?”

He looked down, surprised to see the entire front of his tunic turned scarlet. Then he tightened his jaw, bracing himself against the pain.

“I’ll not rest until every last McHugh is driven from this place,” Bowen vowed.

“They are retreating,” Brodie assured. “We suffered minimal losses. When ’twas obvious we were well represented, despite our smaller numbers, the McHughs and McGrieves beat a hasty retreat. Our men are pursuing them to our borders now.”

The matter-of-fact accounting soothed Bowen’s agitation and pain. The world was spinning with increasing frequency, and he feared losing consciousness before he could ask the most pressing question.

He opened his mouth, but it had gone dry. He licked his cracked lips, sudden thirst gripping him.

“Patrick,” he said hoarsely. “What of Patrick?”

Before there was any response, his knees buckled and he heard Genevieve’s cry of alarm just before the entire world went dark.

Genevieve made a grab for Bowen, but he was far too heavy for her to prevent him from falling to the ground. Brodie lunged and managed to save Bowen from eating dirt, hauling him up to hang Bowen’s arm over his shoulder.

“Take him inside the keep to his chamber,” Genevieve ordered briskly. “Post a man you trust to guard his door at all times. There are vipers in our midst. A McHugh tried to kill Bowen after swearing allegiance to him.”

Brodie gawked at Genevieve, his eyes narrowing.

“Go!” she directed. “He is losing more blood and his wounds must be tended. I must send word to his brother. We are in a perilous position, and now, with him wounded, we are even more weakened.”

Brodie nodded tightly. It was apparent he had no love of taking orders from a lass, but her commands were logical. This much she knew. He could hardly argue with her when Bowen’s life’s blood was seeping onto the ground.

Hauling Bowen over his broad shoulders, Brodie staggered slightly before gaining his footing and hastening toward the entrance to the keep. Genevieve looked warily around, ensuring no danger posed a threat, and then she went to seek out one of the senior Montgomery soldiers she knew to be trusted by both Bowen and Teague.

“You sir, by what name are you called?” Genevieve demanded as she strode up.

The hulking man frowned down at her, seemingly puzzled by the fact she carried a bow and a quiver half-full of arrows.

“I am called Adwen,” he said gruffly.

“You must ride to intercept Teague Montgomery with all haste. If you do not overtake him before he arrives on Montgomery land, you must go to their keep and apprise Graeme and Teague Montgomery of all that has occurred. We are vulnerable to continued attack from the McGrieves and the remaining McHughs. You may also tell the Montgomerys that Patrick McHugh is dead,” she said flatly. “We need reinforcements as badly as we need food and supplies. Bowen has been injured in the battle and ’tis unknown what his condition will be. Give his brothers a full accounting.”

Adwen straightened and then motioned for two others to join him. Then he glanced back at Genevieve with something that resembled respect gleaming in his eyes.

Almost too late, she realized that she was uncloaked. She hadn’t given care to anything but quitting her chamber as quickly as possible. There was no hiding her disfigurement.

She turned quickly, presenting her unmarred cheek as heat rose up her neck and suffused her jaw. The urge to rub her hand over the rough, puckered skin was strong, but instead she curled her fingers into a tight fist, determined not to give in.

It mattered naught what these warriors thought of her. She wanted no man anyway. What did it matter if none desired her or looked kindly upon her?

Bleakness assailed her, because though it shouldn’t matter, what lass didn’t want to be looked upon with favor? What lass didn’t want to feel beautiful?

“I will depart at once, mistress,” Adwen said, his tone still respectful. “I’ll give report just as you’ve outlined it to me.”

“Then go with God, and a safe return to you and your men,” she said.

He inclined his head and then turned sharply on his heel, barking an order to the two men accompanying him. They were bloody and looked battle-weary, but they didn’t flinch at their duty and Genevieve respected them for that. They hadn’t questioned her word.