Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(66)

There was nothing more he wanted to do than to march back to his chamber, confront Graeme, and tell him the whole sordid truth, but he’d not leave Genevieve to shoulder her grief alone.

He would show her this night how it could be with a man who loved her.

“I am not angry with you, lass,” he said, his words muffled by her hair. “I’m shamed at how much time I spent being angry with you before.”

“I was willing,” she whispered. “I played the whore he made me that night. And the next. Oh God, I hated myself. ’Tis only then I contemplated the sin of suicide. Not before, when he raped me. When he had others hold me down and witness my humiliation. Not even when he let others h-hurt me. But then. Oh God, ’tis a sin to even admit this, but I was so broken by what I’d done that I wanted to throw myself from the tower.”

“Oh, my love,” Bowen whispered in a tortured voice.

He rocked back and forth, holding her in his arms as her tears wet his chest. He kissed her hair, her temple, then pulled her away long enough to kiss her cheeks, her nose, and her lips as he sought to comfort her.

She fused her lips to his hungrily, the heat and salt from her tears on his tongue. She clutched at his neck, holding him fiercely as she returned his kiss.

“If I should never be with another man again, I would want you to be the last,” she whispered. “Show me, Bowen. Show me what it’s like. Take away the memory of Ian.”

“You’ll not ever have to beg me for anything, my love. If you ask me for the moon, I’ll fetch it for you.”

Her eyes softened and the tears stopped as she stared back at him, her forehead pressed to his.

“Show me,” she whispered again.

He rose from the chair, bearing her with him as he hefted her into his arms. He carried her to the bed and laid her gently atop the mattress.

Not wanting to ruin a single moment of what was to come, he leaned down, planting his palms on either side of her shoulders as he stared intently into her eyes.

“I’ll be gentle, lass. I’ll go slowly and woo you as sweetly as a lass ever deserved. But if I go too fast, if I do anything to frighten you, if you want me to stop for no other reason than you’re afraid, you must tell me. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I’d cut off my right arm before ever making you suffer pain.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes glowing like twin emeralds.

“I trust you, Bowen. Only you. Love me now. Make me forget all that is in the past.”

He lowered his body to hers, his mouth pressing warmly to hers. “Aye, lass. Tonight all I want you to think on is the present.”

Chapter 32

Genevieve absorbed Bowen’s kiss hungrily. Such sweetness she’d never known. Never had a man been so tender and patient with her. Her heart was filled with such an ache that she was nearly overcome.

She knew not what her future would hold, but for tonight she wanted only this. To be in Bowen’s arms. To know, just for a moment, what it felt like to be cherished and … loved.

She could pretend the past had never happened. That her face was unmarked and that sins hadn’t been committed. That Bowen was her love—her only love—and that he was the first to ever touch her.

Instinctively, she pressed the scarred cheek into the mattress so that his lips danced across the unmarred flesh of her other cheek. But he wouldn’t allow her to do so.

Gently, he turned her so that the scar was bared to him, and pressed tiny kisses over the rough line, leaving no part of the mark untouched.

“I would be content to do naught more than kiss you for the entire night,” he murmured.

“And I you,” she whispered back.

His hands delved into her hair. He ran his fingers through the long tresses, stroking and smoothing them from her face and forehead.

“Sit up, lass, so that I may attend you.”

Her body trembled as she did his bidding. He positioned her on the edge of the bed and he began to slowly divest her of the shift she wore. His gaze held hers all the while, as if he were looking for any sign that she was unwilling or frightened.

’Twas true she was nervous. She didn’t want to disappoint him. But she was not afraid. Not of him. Never of him.

She held her breath when he tugged the shift over her head and she slid her arms around her body, covering her br**sts, as she was suddenly bare before him.

“Do not hide such loveliness from me,” he chided gently.

He carefully pulled her arms away from her body. She was shocked to discover that his hands trembled against her. It was as though he was every bit as nervous as she.

Her heart clutched. She found it endearing that he was so sweet and gentle, and that he seemed unsure of himself.

She loosened her hold on herself and allowed him to pull her arms away so that he could view her nudity. The immediate look of satisfaction in his eyes bolstered her flagging courage.

She was no stranger to lust. Ian had looked upon her like a man determined not only to possess her but to own her, to insert himself into every part of her mind, body, and soul.

But the way Bowen gazed upon her was different. She soaked it up, holding it close and savoring every look, every touch.

“I would undress you as well,” she said huskily, but she hesitated, because she didn’t want to seem overbold.

He took her hands and guided them to his tunic, to the lacings securing the neck.