Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(87)

“Aye, that much is evident,” Graeme said in amusement. “How fare you?”

Eveline clutched Graeme’s hand. “I can hit the target! ’Tis amazing!”

“So can I!” Rorie interjected. “I’m quite good,” she boasted. “I aim to challenge you and Bowen to a match. I’ll best the both of you.”

Bowen chuckled. “It would not surprise me, sweeting. You’re determined and stubborn, if nothing else.”

“ ’Tis not a bad skill to have,” Graeme said in a more serious tone. “You have my gratitude for instructing them, Genevieve. I would have Eveline able to defend herself if I’m not within reach. She means everything to me. If knowing how to use a bow saves her life, I will be forever indebted to you. I’ll set to work having bows fashioned for both Eveline and Rorie.”

Rorie squealed her excitement and Eveline clapped her hands together in delight.

Genevieve glowed with happiness and pride. Bowen put his arm around her shoulders and held her close. His own pride knew no bounds. Genevieve was an extraordinary lass. She was a survivor. Even if she was to be here only a short time, he knew Rorie and Eveline would benefit from the time spent with her.

He kissed her again, because he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t be near her without wanting to touch her and hold her close.

Eveline and Rorie exchanged smug smiles, but Bowen disregarded them.

It then occurred to him that Genevieve wasn’t wearing her cape, nor was she attempting to hide her disfigurement. He squeezed her to him and pressed a kiss to the scar.

Maybe she was comfortable around Eveline and Rorie as well as him. She’d even shed some of the fear and nervousness that she’d exhibited every time she was in Graeme’s presence.

She’d gained confidence, even if it was only around a select few, but it made him feel triumphant that she could hold her head up with no shame. In his eyes, she had nothing to feel shame over.

“Why don’t you lasses show us what you’ve learned?” Graeme suggested.

“Oh yes, let’s!” Rorie exclaimed. “I think there should be a prize for the one with the truest aim.”

“Genevieve cannot participate,” Eveline interjected. “ ’Twould not be fair. You and I will try our hand.”

Rorie’s eyes gleamed with unholy glee. “And the prize?”

Eveline pondered a moment, then her face lit up. “If I win, you must do a reading after the evening meal. One of the stories Father Drummond has taught you. It would be a lovely end to the day.”

“And if I win?” Rorie challenged.

“If you win, I’ll send a missive to my father asking for scrolls from his personal library.”

Rorie’s eyes grew round and she clasped her hands together in excitement. “Oh, I must win, then!”

“Was there any doubt?” Graeme said dryly. “A more competitive lass I’ve never known. I’m still convinced you were born a lad and we just haven’t discovered it yet.”

Rorie stuck out her tongue at Graeme and turned to Genevieve.

“You set the target, Genevieve! ’Tis you who will be judge.”

Bowen observed the glow in Genevieve’s eyes. The shadows were gone, and there was not the haunted look he’d learned to associate with her. She looked happy, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

He wanted nothing more than to bear her back to the keep and make love to her for the next three days, until neither of them had strength any longer.

The men stood patiently and watched as the two lasses took their turns aiming at the target. Considering the short while they’d been practicing, both displayed impressive skill.

But it was Rorie who won the day, not that Bowen or Graeme was surprised. She edged Eveline about by the barest of inches with her very last shot. At which point she thrust her arms in the air and let out a bellow of victory that rivaled that of any warrior on the battlefield.

“Send word to your father, Eveline!” Rorie crowed.

Eveline smiled. “I’ll send a messenger on the morrow. My father’s library is filled with manuscripts. I’m sure there is something that will interest you.”

Rorie clapped her hands. “Anything he sends will be wonderful!” Then she threw her arms around Genevieve, and hugged her fiercely. “Thank you, Genevieve. ’Tis the most fun I’ve had in ages!”

Genevieve laughed and hugged her back. “You’re very welcome. If you continue to practice, you’ll be quite the marksman. Perhaps your brothers will seek to bring you into battle.”

Graeme scowled. “Not bloody likely. The imp finds enough trouble within the walls of the keep.”

The women laughed, and Eveline linked her arms through Genevieve’s and Rorie’s and they started back toward the keep. She turned and smiled sweetly at Bowen and Graeme.

“Be a dear and fetch Genevieve’s bow and arrows for us. I find I’m famished after so much exercise. We’re going to the kitchens to see what can be found to eat.”

Graeme sighed as the women walked back toward the keep, their chatter rising and filling the air. He shook his head and bent to retrieve the bow and the quiver that housed the arrows.

“I think my life will be anything but dull as long as they are together,” Graeme said in resignation.