Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(47)

Bowen paused to rinse the soap from his arms. She was calm and unemotional about death and killing, something most lasses never had occasion to discuss, much less take part in.

“And why did you choose to intervene in my battle?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that a reprimand?”

He laughed at the instant fire in her eyes. The lass still had spirit.

“Nay. I can hardly reprimand you when I stand here whole and hearty instead of lying in a shallow, cold grave, now, can I?”

“It was the right thing to do,” she muttered. “ ’Twas a cowardly act to attack from behind.”

“You have my thanks, and that of my clan.”

She swallowed and her lips trembled as she spoke her next words. “We cannot pretend that our last conversation here in this same place did not happen.”

Bowen sighed. “Nay, we can’t.”

Her chin lifted, and again he saw that unflagging pride. And determination not to be beaten down.

“Tell me my fate, Laird. ’Tis not comforting not to know.”

Bowen sank into the water and tilted his head back to wet his hair. For a moment, he lost himself in the task of bathing, because the simple truth was he hadn’t decided the matter of her fate. He had no idea what to say to her. Not yet.

As he righted himself, he saw Genevieve turn and abruptly stand up. She began walking toward the keep, her pace determined, and he called out for her to stop.

She froze, still facing away, and then slowly turned, her eyes ablaze. “I’ll not play this game,” she said fiercely. “I’ll not be taunted. I’ll not have my fate dangled over my head like an axe about to drop. If you had any decency, you would not make me suffer so.”

There was so much hurt in her voice that it made him flinch. And her eyes. Pools of green so sorrowful he could drown in them. Ah, but he was making a muck of this.

“Don’t go, lass. ’Tis the truth I haven’t spoken of your fate because I haven’t decided it.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked incredulously.

“Sit down, please. ’Tis likely the only place we can have a private moment to converse.”

“ ’Tis hardly an appropriate place,” she said. “I should not be here watching as you bathe. If others knew of it, I would be painted a whore all over again. Only this time I would be the Montgomery laird’s whore.”

She was right, of course, and yet he didn’t want her to walk away. He had a pressing need to get to the heart of the matter, for his own peace of mind. He didn’t want to condemn her. He wanted … He wasn’t sure what he wanted. He wanted her not to be guilty of what she was accused, but she hadn’t denied what he’d confronted her with.

“Turn away so that I may fully rinse and dress. Then we’ll discuss the matter.”

For a moment he thought she might refuse him, but then she turned away and stood rigidly, waiting for him to finish.

He quickly rinsed the last of the soap from his body and then walked from the water. God’s teeth but it was cold. Colder than normal for an early summer morning. The sun was only just creeping its way over the horizon, a distant ball of orange painting the sky in shades of gold and amber.

He grabbed the drying blanket and quickly toweled off before dragging his leggings and tunic back on. At least his body was behaving normally now. His c**k had shriveled to nothing as soon as he’d touched the water.

“You can turn around now,” he said.

She took a cautious peek over her shoulder and, seeing him fully clothed, turned and went back to her rock. He sat on the one across from her and leveled an intent stare in her direction.

“Tell me why,” he said simply.

Her eyes lowered, and she fidgeted with the ends of the blanket held firmly in her grip. “Does it matter why? I did a terrible thing. You and your clan rightfully deserve justice for my sins.”

“Aye, it matters,” he said in a low voice. “It matters to me, Genevieve. I would know what drove you to such.”

She lifted her gaze and stared directly into his eyes, her voice earnest and passionate, almost as if she was pleading with him to understand.

“Because you were my only hope.”

The faint whisper sounded loud in the calm of the morning. He didn’t know what to say. How to respond. What could she mean? He shook his head in confusion.

“I do not understand.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she clutched the blanket even tighter around her, as if it were all that protected her from grave harm.

“I knew if Ian were to take Eveline, his deed would not go unpunished. The Montgomerys and Armstrongs are two very powerful clans. They would never stand for such a wrong being done to one of their own, and Eveline was both Montgomery and Armstrong.”

Bowen continued to stare at her as understanding slowly dawned. He let out his breath in a long exhale, as he finally realized her scheme.

“You wanted us to come.”

“Aye,” she whispered. “I did not know if my fate would be any better at your hands, but it could not be worse than what I endured with Ian. It was a chance I had to take.”

Bowen’s head was swimming with all that she’d related. “I do not know whether to applaud your genius or condemn a plan that was so fraught with danger to an innocent woman.”