Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(55)

He frowned when he noticed that a bruise was already forming on her chin and lower jaw, where she’d been struck.

“Where else are you hurt, Genevieve?” he asked.

“Nowhere. He hit me twice, but ’tis all he had time to do. You arrived in time to prevent more.”

His scowl deepened. “I should have been there to prevent him hitting you at all.”

She slipped her hand over his arm, holding it in place as he cupped her chin in his firm grasp.

“You came. ’Tis all that is important. You kept it from happening again. For that you have my thanks.”

His heart softened, and he rubbed his thumb over her cheek in a tender caress.

“I would that you never have to experience such again.”

She closed her eyes and turned further into his caress, rubbing her scarred cheek over his palm. Then, as if realizing she drew attention to her defect, she froze and tried to shrink away.

“Nay,” he protested. “Do not hide from me, Genevieve. Never hide from me. You have to know that the scar on your face matters not to me.”

She swallowed, and he could feel that she trembled beneath his touch. She looked at him with such hope that it was painful for him to see. This was a woman who was afraid to hope anymore. Time and time again, her hopes had been crushed, and now she gazed at him as though she battled with herself over whether to allow that hope to take flight.

“Come,” he whispered. “ ’Tis time to seek our bed. I would have you warm and comfortable this night.”

Her eyes widened, and she clutched at the hand covering her cheek.

“What will be said if I spend the night in your chamber, Laird?”

His lips curled, and his words were fierce. “I don’t give one damn what is said. These people have neither my respect nor my loyalty. They’ll not disparage you, for if they do they’ll suffer my wrath. I’ve let it be known that I’ll tolerate no insult to you. You have my protection, Genevieve. I’ll not have you leave my chamber this night.”

Though he meant every word he’d said, he also recognized the validity of her fear. It would be disrespectful of him to have her name bandied about as whore to him now that Ian was gone. He would give the clansmen no further opportunity to mock or demean her.

His voice softened as he gazed at her. “No one will know, lass. I will speak to Taliesan, who champions you fiercely, and it will be known that you rested this night in her chamber.”

The relief was stark in her eyes. Her entire body seemed to sag. He lowered his hand, with hers still holding on to it, and pulled her toward the bed so they could seek their rest.

Another knock sounded, and Bowen wanted to growl his frustration at the constant interruptions. Then he remembered Teague’s promise of food. His belly growled at the idea, and he sighed.

“Go on to the bed and make yourself comfortable. That will be food sent up, fresh from the hunt.”

Genevieve brightened and slipped her hand from his, placing it over her belly. Then she grimaced.

“ ’Tis the truth I’m near to starving.”

“Then go and I’ll bring the food inside to you. Fear not. I’ll not allow anyone to enter while you are present.”

The smile she gifted him with warmed him to his toes. Then she hurried by him and crawled into bed—his bed—and pulled the covers high around her.

Never had he seen a more wondrous or more beautiful sight than Genevieve McInnis snuggled sweetly in his bed, awaiting his attendance.

Chapter 26

Genevieve snuggled tighter into Bowen’s embrace and sighed in utter contentment. Lazily, she opened her eyes only to discover that it was already past dawn.

Dismay filled her that the night was over. ’Twas the most beautiful night she’d ever spent. Never had she felt such peace, nor had she ever felt as safe as she had wrapped in Bowen Montgomery’s arms.

“The lass has awakened.”

Bowen’s teasing voice slid like silk over her ears. She was reluctant even to answer for fear that he would immediately cast her from his chamber. She wanted this moment to last forever.

“Aye,” she finally whispered, knowing she couldn’t delay the inevitable.

But he didn’t hurry her, nor did he tell her to return to her own room.

Instead, he stroked a hand up and down her back until she nearly moaned from the pleasure of it.

“How do you feel this morn, Genevieve?”

She rubbed her cheek against his chest, savoring the smell and feel of him. It seemed so odd to her that she felt no fear in Bowen’s presence. She’d learned to fear all men. There was not one she trusted, and she’d been abused by many.

And yet Bowen was … different. From the very start he’d been different. He’d treated her with kindness and gentleness, and he’d defended her.

“Better,” she said, her words escaping on a sigh.

“ ’Tis good to hear. I hope your jaw isn’t paining you too much.”

She attempted to shake her head, because she was too content to speak.

His hand closed over her nape, massaging and caressing. Then he nudged her head upward, using his other hand to slide under her chin and prop her up as he examined her mouth.

He frowned a bit as he tilted her head left then right.

“There’s a bruise. And your lip is still swollen.”