Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(93)

“Well done, lass. I see you’ve not lost your skill at all.”

She smiled back, and then nocked another arrow.

By the time the sun began to sink in the sky, they had a dozen rabbits tied to her father’s saddle and he turned them back toward the keep.

They rode into the courtyard, where their horses were taken by one of the McInnis men, and she followed her father around to where they skinned their bounty from hunts.

It wasn’t an unusual thing for Genevieve to take part in the cleaning and preparation of the animals, but at the very first cut into the hide her stomach revolted and sweat broke out on her forehead.

Nausea coiled in her belly and she swallowed, desperately trying to control her reaction.

When her father peeled back the skin of a rabbit, Genevieve lost the battle and bent over, retching violently onto the ground. The smell offended her. The sight of blood made her stomach recoil. Her eyes watered from the force with which she heaved.

Her father’s arm came around her, and he shouted an order to one of his men to take over the care of the rabbits. Then he led her inside the keep and to her mother.

“Elizabeth, do something,” her father said in desperation. “The lass is sick.”

“Hush now, Lachlan. I’ll tend to her. You go on and finish with the rabbits. ’Tis woman’s work to be done here.”

“She’s my daughter,” he growled. “ ’Tis nothing womanly about my concern.”

Still, Lady McInnis waved her husband off and helped Genevieve up the stairs to her chamber.

“There now, lass, lie down a bit and catch your breath,” her mother said as soon as she’d tucked Genevieve into bed.

“Tired,” Genevieve said faintly.

The bout of sickness had left her exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

Her mother ran a cool hand over her forehead. “I know, lass. Rest, now. I’ll check in on you later.”

“Love you, Mama,” Genevieve said in a drowsy voice.

Her mother smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “And I love you, my darling. Sleep now.”

Chapter 46

“How is the lass?” Lachlan asked when Elizabeth entered his chamber.

His expression was anxious and worried, and Elizabeth wished she could say something to ease him. But there was naught to do but tell the truth.

“She is with child. I’m sure of it,” Elizabeth said bluntly.

Lachlan blanched, his face going white as he stared agape at his wife. His huge hands curled into fists, and he looked as though he wanted to strike the wall.

“The bastard!” Lachlan seethed. “Never have I wished for a man to be alive so that I could do the killing. May Ian McHugh rot in hell for what he has done to our lass.”

“What are we to do, Lachlan?” Elizabeth asked in a worried voice.

Lachlan sent her a puzzled look. “Do? There’s nothing to do, Elizabeth. Except what we’ve always done. Love her and offer her our support, no matter what may fall. ’Tis not the lass’s doing that she is with child, and even if it were, I could never turn away from her.”

“Oh nay!” Elizabeth cried. “I did not mean that! I only mean that my heart bleeds for her. Just when we think she can start anew and put the past behind her, ’tis evident she is carrying a bairn, and now she’ll live with a constant reminder of all Ian McHugh made her suffer for the rest of her life.”

“Talk to the lass,” Lachlan said gruffly. “ ’Tis a matter for a mother to discuss with her daughter. A father has no place in such a conversation. But let her know that I love her and that she will always have a place here with us. As will her bairn. Do not let her think we are shamed by her. Indeed, I’m prouder of her than I could ever be of a son.”

Elizabeth laid her hand on Lachlan’s arm. “ ’Tis a wonderful thing you say. I am the most fortunate of women in her choice of husbands. I could never ask for a better protector for my only child, and yet you’ve never once held it against me that I could not bear you a son.”

Lachlan pulled her close, his eyes tender as they gazed down at her.

“ ’Tis hard to complain when you provided me a daughter to rival any in all of Scotland. What other lass could survive all she did and then seek vengeance on the man who wronged her? ’Tis the truth I could not be prouder of my lass. I only wish I could have been present to see her fell Patrick McHugh in battle. Surely it was a sight to behold.”

Elizabeth smiled and rubbed her cheek against his broad chest.

“Besides,” he said gruffly. “ ’Tis I who am fortunate, for you could have chosen any husband. Many vied for your hand, and yet you chose me. A savage with no manners, and you helped me build one of the strongest clans in the whole of Scotland. Men still gawk at your beauty after all these years, and many would give their life for one chance to share your bed.”

She grinned mischievously up at him. “Now, that would be awkward. ’Tis a hard enough fit with you in the bed, much less another braw lad.”

“Cheeky wench,” he said with no heat. “I love you, and you well know it, and I’d kill the man who ever dared touch the hem of your dress.”

She gifted him with a kiss and then pulled back with a sigh. “I must tell Genevieve. She does not know.”

Lachlan’s expression sobered. “Do not let her think this changes how we feel. I have no words to describe the joy in my heart at having my daughter back where she belongs. There is nothing she could do that would ever make me regret that.”