Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(32)

She hurried toward the keep entrance, anxious to see how Bowen fared. The blood worried her, but she knew not where he’d been injured.

She stopped first in her chamber to put the bow and arrows away. She slid a finger lovingly along the worn wood bends and then solemnly closed the trunk, pushing herself upward to her feet once more.

Swaying precariously, she closed her eyes momentarily and steeled herself against the inevitable reaction setting in. She’d not spend a single moment regretting her actions. Nor would she allow Patrick McHugh to cast a pall over her. He was dead. No longer a threat. Vengeance was finally hers.

Her eyes popped open as she remembered Taliesan, sequestered in the tower, likely terrified and wondering the fate of the keep and clan.

Gathering her composure and breathing deeply to reinvigorate herself, she hurried out of her chamber and traveled to the far end of the hall, where once she’d been imprisoned, and where she’d existed for an entire year.

She beat soundly on the door, calling to Taliesan to open. A few moments later, there was much scuffling heard and then the door creaked open, only the dim glow of a few candles emanating from within.

“Genevieve!” Taliesan cried.

She was enfolded in Taliesan’s hug. Beyond Taliesan, many of the women and children huddled inside the small room, their gazes anxious as they stared at the two women embracing.

Against her will, Genevieve’s heart softened a bit at the fear so clearly written on the faces of the women of the clan. And the children. Eyes so big and wide. Their lives had been turned upside down by the selfish actions of an inept laird.

She didn’t want to feel anything for these people. They’d all been a party to her misery and humiliation. They deserved nothing from her, and yet she couldn’t turn her back on them, even if it was what she wished to do.

“What has happened?” Taliesan asked, pulling away. “Are we safe?”

The other women leaned forward, eager to hear. For once, there were no disparaging looks, no insults hurled, no name-calling. They all looked … vulnerable.

It was a feeling Genevieve was well acquainted with.

“Patrick attacked the keep with the aid of the McGrieves,” she said without emotion.

There were shocked gasps all around the small chamber.

“Did he mean to kill us all?” one of the women demanded.

Her tone was angry, and a quick look around showed Genevieve that there was anger on more than one face.

Genevieve shrugged. “He is without care for his kin or his duty as laird. ’Tis difficult to say how the mind of a coward works. He is dead now,” she said in a dispassionate voice. “He is no longer a threat, but I have sent word to the Montgomerys, because now that Patrick is dead, we’ve sustained one attack and our numbers are lower than necessary to defend the keep from a larger attack. The McGrieves might very well decide to ally themselves with yet another clan in order to take over the McHugh holding.”

There were cries of distress, a series of murmurs, whispers, and louder objections that echoed down the hall.

“You did right, Genevieve,” Taliesan said, crushing Genevieve’s hand with her own. “You have my thanks for looking after our interests so well.”

None of the other women went as far as to express gratitude. Several still looked at Genevieve with consternation in their eyes, as if they were loath even to consider the possibility that she was the one who’d been wronged.

“Where is the new laird in all of this?” one of the women asked, suspicion heavy in her voice.

“He lies injured in his chamber, under tight guard. One of the McHugh men who swore allegiance to the new laird attempted to cowardly attack him from behind. He is also dead, and the laird will remain under guard by those he trusts until he is well enough to be up on his own.”

“Nay!” several whispered. “Who is dead? Who killed him? Who was it, Genevieve? You must tell us if it was one of our husbands.”

The questions peppered her from all directions. Genevieve knew there was no easy way to relate the news. She raised her gaze, seeking out the woman she knew to be the wife of the McHugh man who betrayed Bowen.

“ ’Twas your husband, Maggie,” Genevieve said quietly.

“You lie!” Maggie hissed. “He would never do something so dishonorable.”

Genevieve steeled herself for such a response. It wasn’t unexpected. Who, after all, wanted to believe such of their husband?

“I saw him with my own eyes,” Genevieve added gently.

Maggie stared at her with obvious scorn. “And we’re to believe the word of a whore?”

Genevieve flinched and took an immediate step back.

Taliesan rounded on the woman, her face flushed with fury. “You will cease your insults! Genevieve has done much for us, and I struggle to understand why. She should have washed her hands of us. She should have welcomed our deaths, and yet she saw us all to safety. Even now she has sent word because we are in danger of another attack, and all you can think to do is heap petty, childish insults on her. Enough, I say! Act the adult you claim to be and cease acting like a child. The children of the keep behave better than the women of this clan ever have.”

Several of the women had the grace to look abashed, but others regarded Genevieve with open hostility. She knew she’d gained instant enemies the moment she named the betrayer. But she would not lie. Not to save feelings. Not when the dishonorable person merited no respect or goodwill.