Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(61)

Her cheek itched, and she lifted her hand to rub at the scar before gathering the neck of the hood and pulling it tight so the material was pressed against her face.

She wanted to flee. Duck in the back and escape to her chamber. The last thing she wanted was to stand before Bowen’s kin as though she had the right to do so. She was nothing to Bowen and even less to his clan. She had no interest in being present when she was judged.

“Genevieve, ’tis all right,” Bowen said in a soft voice as they neared the courtyard.

“Pray can I be excused, Laird?” she asked, her lips stiff from nerves.

He stopped in his tracks and gathered her hands in his, not caring who looked on. She wanted to pull her hands away before they were seen. Desperation gripped her. The last thing she wanted was to present a spectacle.

For a long moment he stared into her eyes, and then his gaze softened. He touched a hand to her face and gently pushed a tendril of hair from her cheek.

“Return then to your chamber. I’ll see you later.”

She all but fled across the terrain, making certain she circled the keep so she could enter through the back entrance to avoid any confrontation with Bowen’s kin.

Her heart beat so wildly that she feared passing out as she became light-headed. At the top of the stairs, she nearly ran into Taliesan, and she was so grateful to see the other woman that she gripped Taliesan’s hands.

“The Montgomery forces have arrived,” Taliesan said. “I heard them arrive from my window. They bring food and supplies. We’ll be safe from attack now, surely!”

“Aye,” Genevieve said as she sought to catch her breath.

She glanced toward her chamber and turned, all but dragging Taliesan along with her.

“Keep me company,” Genevieve urged. “I find I have no desire to be alone this night.”

Taliesan good-naturedly complied and, with the door shut behind them, Taliesan sent a concerned frown in Genevieve’s direction.

“You look as though you’ve suffered a fright, Genevieve. You’re nervous, and your hands are shaking! Whatever is the matter?”

Genevieve sought to calm herself as she stood in front of the hearth. She debated setting a fire, but she wasn’t sure her hands were steady enough for the task. Still, it would do her good to busy herself with something.

“I heard Teague say he would not be surprised if Graeme Montgomery himself arrived with the party bearing supplies.”

Taliesan nodded. “Aye, I saw him below. He arrived with his men. Teague and Brodie went out to greet him.” Then she frowned. “I did not see Bowen. Were you with him?”

Genevieve’s face exploded with warmth and she turned her back to Taliesan as she set logs for the fire. She and Bowen had spent a great deal of time with each other of late, but they’d not done so in an obvious manner. Bowen had been careful to keep appearances, something for which Genevieve was grateful, even if she had no care for what the McHughs thought.

It wasn’t so much what they thought as what they would do. They would take any opportunity to disparage Genevieve. Many held her accountable for Ian’s death, and now Patrick’s. With Bowen killing her attacker and issuing his warning to the entire clan that anyone doing harm to Genevieve would suffer the same fate, their animosity toward her had only intensified.

Bowen hadn’t mentioned the abbey again. He hadn’t mentioned her fate at all, which made her more uneasy with every passing day. She knew she was a fool to allow herself to dissolve into fancy where Bowen was concerned. She was nobody. She was dead.

“Genevieve?” Taliesan asked in a soft voice. “What is between you and Bowen? ’Tis forward of me to ask, I know, but I sense that he’s infatuated with you. Do you return his feelings?”

Genevieve set fire to wood and then stood back, staring into the crackling flames. Then she slowly turned to face Taliesan.

“There is naught between me and Bowen Montgomery. He has been kind to me. Nothing else.”

Taliesan sighed. “I see the way he looks at you. He fair eats you with his eyes.”

Genevieve shook her head. “There is naught to look upon.”

“You are still a beautiful lass, Genevieve. The mark Ian put on your face does not take that away.”

Genevieve regretted that she’d been so impulsive in urging Taliesan to enter her chamber. Taliesan was a sweet and genuine lass, but right now Genevieve wanted only to be alone and away from Taliesan’s innocent prying.

“I would go to bed now, Taliesan,” Genevieve said quietly.

Taliesan shuffled awkwardly to Genevieve’s side and suddenly Genevieve was enfolded in Taliesan’s arms.

“I did not mean to hurt you.”

Genevieve turned and hugged Taliesan to her. “I know you didn’t. ’Tis my fault for being too sensitive. I’m just weary and nervous over the Montgomerys’ arrival.”

“I will leave you to rest. Would you like me to have food brought up to your chamber on the morrow?”

“ ’Tis kind of you to offer, but I will be fine. I cannot hide in my chamber forever.”

Taliesan withdrew and, offering Genevieve a reassuring smile, limped slowly out the door, shutting it behind her.

Genevieve sagged onto the bed and flopped backward, staring at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back over the many days spent in Bowen’s company.