Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(42)

Genevieve wished she could be so relieved over the news. Worry was about to eat a hole in her stomach.

“Sit, Genevieve. Do you have need of anything?”

Genevieve settled on the edge of Taliesan’s bed and shook her head. “Nay, just your company.”

Taliesan, clad in only her nightdress, sat on the bed, dragging her lame leg up so that it didn’t dangle over the side.

“ ’Tis glad I am for your company. Things are so tense within the clan. I finally sought refuge in my chamber, because everywhere I turned there was naught but worry, anger, fear, and stress. The clan has no idea what to think or how they should feel. Many are resentful of the Montgomerys’ and Armstrongs’ intrusion, even as they realize the sins committed by Ian and Patrick and weigh this against the loyalty they feel they should have toward their own kin, regardless of their transgressions.”

“I suppose we’ll wait it out in your chamber together,” Genevieve offered faintly.

“Why don’t you try to sleep, Genevieve. You look exhausted. You can share the bed with me. No one will bother you here.”

Genevieve glanced at the pillow and then stifled a yawn.

“Come. I have a nightdress you can change into. No need to go back to your chamber. I’ll help you out of your dress, and then we’ll both have a long sleep.”

Chapter 21

Bowen let out a groan and then pushed himself up in the bed, surprised when pain set fire to his chest. He sagged back, all his breath leaving him in an excruciating rush. What the bloody hell?

His head hit the pillow and he reopened his eyes to see Brodie Armstrong looming over his bed.

“What are you doing here?” Bowen grumbled.

“Seeing how you fare. How do you feel?”

It was an odd question, but it gave him pause, because the fuzz was starting to clear from his mind, and the more it cleared the more the ache in his skull increased.

He felt as though he’d been thrown from his horse, dragged through the mud, and then stepped on repeatedly.

“I’ve felt worse.” And it was true enough.

He struggled to make sense of why he was lying abed with Brodie in his chamber. Beyond Brodie he saw Geoffrey and one of Brodie’s men, Deaglan, standing at the end of the bed.

It was a regular gathering in his chamber, apparently.

When he tried to maneuver onto his side, at least, his chest protested and it felt as though someone had driven a thousand tiny needles into his flesh. He glanced down to see a fresh wound, jaggedly cut across his chest.

It was stitched tightly and looked clean. The stitches were close together and had sealed the flesh completely closed. Whoever had performed the task had done an excellent job.

“What happened?” Bowen asked, still rubbing bleary eyes.

His head was a vast void of nothingness, and trying to think only made it ache more vilely. His mouth was overdry, and his tongue felt large and thick. Almost as if he’d consumed far too much ale and suffered in the aftermath. Only, he knew he had done no such thing.

Brodie frowned. “We were attacked. Do you not remember?”

Rapid images flashed in Bowen’s mind. It all came in one giant bombardment until he was dizzy.

“Tell me all,” Bowen said curtly. “I want a full report. How long have I been abed? What of the rest of the clan. Did we suffer losses?”

Brodie held up his hand. “Your brother has arrived. It would be far simpler if I only give an accounting once, and he’ll want to hear the whole of it.”

“Teague? What the hell is he doing here?”

“Genevieve sent for him,” Brodie said evenly. “The lass roared the order, in fact. She sent three of your men to intercept your brother. But I’ll explain all when Teague arrives. I expect him at any moment. He was dismounting just moments ago.”

Bowen simmered with impatience, but he fell silent, nodding his agreement that they would discuss all when Teague was present.

He remembered his confrontation with Genevieve on the bank of the river. He certainly remembered seeing her bathing, and how stunningly breathtaking she was. He also remembered well how pale she’d gone when he’d asked her if all he’d heard about her involvement in Eveline’s abduction was true. The lass hadn’t needed to say a word to confirm his suspicions. It was all there to see on her face and in her eyes.

But then he also remembered staring at her in the heat of battle and being convinced she was about to fell him with an arrow, only for her to take out a McHugh warrior behind him who’d been prepared to plunge a dagger into his back. And then she’d rushed to his side, refusing to let him fall to the ground.

After that, everything was a blank. He had no recollection of any of the events that had followed. And he still didn’t know long he’d been in bed out of his senses.

“How long has it been since the battle took place?” Bowen demanded.

“Two full days,” Brodie said.

Bowen swore. ’Twas certainly long enough to be abed with an injury as paltry as his.

The corners of Brodie’s mouth turned up into a slight smile. “If it makes you feel any better, you were abed for so long because we held you down and forced a sleeping draft down your throat.”

Only a little mollified, Bowen leaned back and then pushed himself upward to a sitting position.

They didn’t have long to wait, as Brodie had suspected. Only moments later, Bowen’s chamber door burst open and Teague strode in, his face drawn into grim, worried lines.