Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(94)

“You’re a good man, Lachlan McInnis,” Elizabeth whispered as she kissed him again. “I’ll break the news to Genevieve in the morning. Right now, I wish you to take me to bed.”

Lachlan’s eyes gleamed and his hold became possessive.

“Bossy lass. You know I can deny you nothing.”

When Genevieve woke the next morning, the first thing she did was make a run for the chamber pot and heaved the remaining contents of her stomach. For several long minutes, she leaned over, her body convulsing as she sought to gain control.

Cool hands rubbed up and down her back and then pulled her hair away from her face, holding it at her nape as she shuddered with the last of her illness.

“I was afraid you’d be sick this morning,” her mother said when Genevieve finally lifted her head and staggered back toward the bed.

Her mother tucked her into bed and pulled the covers up around her, all the while rubbing her back in a soothing motion.

“It must have been something I ate,” Genevieve croaked.

Her mother’s smile was gentle, and her hand slid to her forehead as she smoothed the hair from her face.

“Nay, lass, ’tis not something you ate.”

Genevieve frowned. “Then what’s wrong with me?”

“You’re carrying a bairn,” her mother said gently.

Genevieve’s jaw went slack. Her hand covered the flatness of her belly as she stared at her mother in denial. But her mother nodded in confirmation.

Joy exploded in Genevieve’s soul until she nearly burst with it. She wanted to cry. She wanted to laugh and shout her happiness to the world, but her mother would think she’d gone mad. And so she lay there, savoring the knowledge that she carried Bowen’s child. A tiny part of him that she’d always have.

Her mother grasped her hand and held tightly to it.

“Your father and I both want you to know that we fully support you and your bairn. You’ll always have a place to live. We love you with all our hearts. We know this is difficult for you. To bear the child of a man who so abused you is unthinkable, but we’ll help you in any way we can, and we’ll never forsake you, Genevieve.”

Genevieve stared dumbfounded at her mother, as it dawned on her what she was saying.

She leaned forward and put a hand out to staunch the flow of words from her mother.

“Mama, ’tis not Ian’s child I carry,” she said softly.

Confusion crowded her mother’s gaze. “You don’t mean … Genevieve, tell me it wasn’t someone he …”

She broke off, too upset to continue, and Genevieve couldn’t allow her to think the worst.

“I’m carrying Bowen’s bairn, Mama. ’Tis his child, not Ian’s.”

Lady McInnis’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed. Then her lips thinned and she gazed sharply at Genevieve.

“I knew there was something between the two of you. I sensed it when we were at Montgomery Keep. The man looked positively distraught when you left.”

“He loves me,” Genevieve said softly. “He saved me. He let me go because he thought it would make me happy.”

Her mother stared at her a long moment and then drew her legs onto the bed so she sat more comfortably next to Genevieve.

“I’m hearing a lot about what he feels and what he’s done. But tell me, Genevieve, do you love him?”

“With all my heart,” she said achingly.

Her mother sighed. “You’ve not been happy here, have you?”

Genevieve shook her head. “Nay. ’Tis not so! I wouldn’t have traded this time with you and Papa for anything. Bowen was right. He risked my ire by contacting you. He did it for me, even though it meant letting me go. And he was right. I needed you—both of you—in order to be whole again.”

Her mother’s face crinkled in confusion. “He risked your ire? I do not understand.”

Genevieve closed her eyes as shame crawled up her spine. “I did not want you to know that I was alive.”

Her mother gasped and her eyes blazed with hurt. “Genevieve! Why ever not? Do you even know the hell we’ve endured thinking you dead all this time?”

“ ’Twas selfish of me,” Genevieve said quietly. “I was so focused on my shame, and I feared the disgrace I would bring to our name. I never wanted you to know what all I endured. I would have spared you that if at all possible.”

“Oh, dearling,” her mother said, her voice choked with tears. “Don’t you know that nothing you could ever do would make us ashamed of you? We love you. You are the light of our lives—especially your father’s. The sun rises and sets at your feet. When you were born, I feared he would be angry because I hadn’t given him a son. But he was so taken with you ’twas obvious to anyone with eyes that he cared not if you were a lass. And then, when it became evident that I could bear no more children, I worried that he would be angry. And do you know what he said to me?”

Genevieve slowly shook her head.

Her mother smiled through her tears. “He told me that I’d given him the fiercest, smartest, most beautiful lass in all of Scotland, and what could he possibly want with a son when he had a lass as clever as you?”

Genevieve burst into tears and clung to her mother.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I was so afraid and ashamed. I didn’t even feel like a person while Ian kept me prisoner. It was not until Bowen saved me and showed me how it could be between a man and a woman that I began to live again. He contacted you because he knew I would never be happy or whole without you. And he gave me up because he said he’d rather I be happy and with the people I loved than to remain with him and never truly heal.”