Highlander Most Wanted (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #2)(96)

He stood there an hour, his gaze locked to the horizon. And then the first rider appeared, bearing the McInnis banner. His pulse kicked up and his breathing became more rapid. He leaned forward over the tower, straining to see each rider as they gradually came into sight.

His hands curled around the stone ledge and his jaw was locked. He was so tense that his muscles protested, but his entire being was on alert for that first sign of Genevieve.

“There is no litter,” Graeme observed, as more McInnis warriors poured over the hillside.

Bowen’s heart sank. He sagged, his body going slack as grief filled his heart all over again. He took a step back, prepared to descend the tower and retreat into the keep. Graeme could keep up the social niceties and discern the purpose of the visit.

As he started to turn away, one rider broke from the pack. The horse galloped forward at a faster clip than the others, and it was then he saw the long brown hair streaming behind her like a beacon.

His breath caught and he swayed and gripped the ledge to steady himself. His legs had gone so weak that he wasn’t sure they would hold him up.

Genevieve.

Beside him Graeme grinned and slapped him on the back.

“What are you waiting for? Go and greet your lass.”

Bowen bolted from the tower, nearly tripping in his haste to descend the stairs. He hit the courtyard at a dead run and bolted, racing across the rolling terrain as Genevieve bore down on him on horseback.

She pulled up a short distance away and slid from her saddle with a haste that nearly gave Bowen an attack of the heart. Her feet hit the ground, and then she was running just as swiftly as he did. Running to him, her smile so big it outshone the sun.

He held out his arms, and she hit him full force right in the chest. He lifted her, hugging her so close that he was sure he crushed her. He spun her round and round as he buried his face in her hair, absorbing the feel of having her in his arms again.

“Ah lass, I missed you so,” he breathed.

“I missed you as well, Bowen. So very much.”

He pulled her back so he could look upon her face. As she slid down his body and planted her feet back on the ground, he cupped her face and stroked her skin. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“If this is a dream, I never want to wake up,” he said hoarsely.

She smiled. “ ’Tis no dream. I am here.”

Unable to contain himself any longer, and uncaring that her father and hundreds of McInnis warriors now surrounded them, he fused his lips to hers.

He near devoured her mouth, so hungry for her that he ached. Her taste, her scent—just the feel of her, soft and willing in his arms. It was more than he could take in.

“Well, I suppose that answers one question,” Lachlan McInnis said dryly.

Bowen reluctantly tore himself away from Genevieve and looked up to see Laird McInnis looming over them, still astride his horse.

Genevieve’s cheeks were pink, but her eyes shone with happiness. Bowen didn’t even dare consider the reason she was here.

“I must speak with you, Bowen,” Genevieve whispered as she threaded her hand through his. “In private.”

He squeezed her hand and then focused his attention temporarily on her father.

“I bid you welcome to Montgomery Keep,” he said formally. “If you ride within the courtyard, your horses will be cared for and you’ll be offered refreshment in the great hall.”

Amusement crinkled the older man’s eyes, and he shook his head. Then he looked at his daughter.

“Now, don’t be long, lass. I have much to discuss with the lad.”

“I won’t, Papa,” she said, ducking her head shyly.

Bowen waited until the procession of McInnis warriors had filed past toward the keep, and then he turned back to Genevieve, crushing her in his embrace just so he would know she was real, standing here in front of him.

He swept her into his arms and carried her back toward the keep.

“You do not have to carry me, Bowen,” she teased.

“Lass, ’tis not likely I’ll let you go anytime soon, so there’s no sense arguing.”

She smiled and relaxed into his hold, laying her head on his shoulder.

He bore her around the side of the keep and toward the river, where they’d once bid their farewells. When he was a distance from the keep, he lowered himself to the ground, still holding her tightly against him.

“I cannot believe you are here,” he said in wonder. “Why are you here?”

’Twas a question he dreaded asking, for he wasn’t certain he wanted to know the answer. But he hoped. God in heaven he hoped, with all his heart, that he knew her answer.

She regarded him solemnly, her gaze earnest. “I have something to tell you, Bowen. ’Tis of great import.”

“Speak, lass. Whatever it is, it will make no difference in my feelings for you.”

Her eyes sparkled with sudden light. “I certainly hope ’tis not true!”

He cocked his head to the side, curious as to her mood. She seemed so … different. Joyous and yet shy. There was a glow about her that radiated to everyone around her. She looked happy. And was that not what he wanted for her above all else?

She touched his face, and he couldn’t help himself. He slid his hand over hers, trapping it against his jaw so her hand would linger there.

“I’m carrying your babe,” she said softly.