Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(60)

Bowen smiled. “I was only thinking that ’tis a beautiful night made only more beautiful by the woman who walks beside me.”

’Twas obvious she blushed, even in the glow cast by the moon. It was in her mannerisms, the way her gaze skittered sideways and she ducked her head in that shy way.

But he also saw her smile. It was a sight that never failed to tighten his chest. It had never been brought home to him the fact that she never smiled until finally she did. And now he sought to make her do so at every opportunity, because it was a sight he savored.

“You’ve a silver tongue, Bowen Montgomery,” she said, her teeth flashing with her smile. “A silver-tongued devil, you are.”

“I’d prefer to use my tongue for other purposes,” he murmured.

She paused, turning to face him as they topped the rise overlooking the river.

“And what purpose would that be?” she asked innocently.

The little imp was teasing him. It delighted him that she’d be so free with him. She’d always been so reserved and cautious. Careful never to make any overtures that could possibly be misconstrued.

Yet tonight she was looking at him with a devilish gleam in her own eyes. He may be silver-tongued, but she was developing one of her own and he loved it.

“I can think of several,” he murmured as he lowered his lips to capture hers.

Her breath caught, as if she’d swallowed his. This time she boldly returned his kiss, almost as if she’d grabbed hold of her courage and put it all on the line.

He was content to allow her to dictate the kiss. His hands slid up her neck, to just beneath her ears, and his fingers splayed out, his palms gliding over her jaw.

Kissing her was something he’d never grow tired of. It was like drinking warm sunshine or licking the sugary sweetness of honey from a spoon.

Smooth, silky-soft, and delicate and ultra feminine. She inspired possessiveness such that he all but screamed that she was his.

And the hell of it was she didn’t even know it.

He hadn’t told her.

Not one single word.

No “I love you.” No soft entreaty for the words to be offered to him in turn.

It was a vow he’d made before God and on her behalf. He’d pressure her into nothing. He’d not demand a single thing she was unwilling to give.

He’d wait for bloody ever if that’s what it took.

“Kissing is so very nice,” she said with a breathy sigh. “I never thought so before now. I always thought it rather horrid.”

She winced as if she regretted being so bold in her words. ’Twas likely she hated that she’d brought up a subject that was inherently shameful for her. But for Bowen, it was a signal that she was growing more comfortable with him, and so he embraced her willingness to discuss the terrible things that had happened to her.

“ ’Tis because you were not kissing me,” Bowen said smugly.

Genevieve laughed, and it was the most exquisite sound. It captivated him and made him want to pull it from her again and again.

“Mayhap you have the right of it,” she said in a rueful tone. “You are very skilled at it.”

He went quiet, not wanting to delve into the topic of why he was so skilled at kissing. ’Twas a dangerous topic. One he would be well rid of.

So he kissed her again, because he knew it would silence any further questions or comments. Besides, kissing her was no hardship.

They were deep into a breathless, bone-melting kiss when Bowen heard a shout in the distance. He immediately picked up his head, using one hand to shove Genevieve behind him while his other hand went to the hilt of his sword.

He strained to hear the voices while Genevieve clutched at his tunic, huddled against his back.

“Montgomerys arrive!”

The call was picked up and echoed through the watchtowers and around the perimeter of the keep. Bowen relaxed his grip on both Genevieve and his sword, and then pulled Genevieve back around to his side.

“ ’Tis my kin,” Bowen explained. “They bring supplies. Come. Let’s return to the keep so that I may greet them.”

Chapter 29

Genevieve’s heart was in her throat the entire walk back to the keep. Bowen was solicitous, slowing to match her pace even though ’twas obvious he seethed with impatience to greet his kin.

She’d heard Teague laughingly say that he was certain Graeme would arrive himself once he learned that the keep had been attacked and Bowen had been injured. With all her heart, she hoped that he’d remained behind and had not accompanied his men to McHugh Keep.

Her time with Bowen had been nothing short of perfect. Aye, she was living on borrowed time. It couldn’t last forever. She didn’t expect it to. If Graeme had arrived, it would be over a lot sooner. He would learn of all she’d done, and he’d want retribution. How could he not?

She’d done harm to his wife. She’d endangered his entire clan. It wasn’t something she expected to be forgiven for, even if Bowen had seemed willing to overlook her transgressions.

She clung tighter to Bowen’s hand as they neared the courtyard, where the Montgomery soldiers were even now piling in. Then she yanked her hand back, realizing the intimacy of holding Bowen’s hand and the fact that his clan would be looking on.

It was instinctive to reach for her hood and pull it over her head. She’d relaxed around Bowen. Something about him made her feel comfortable. She didn’t seek to hide from him.