Highlander Most Wanted

chapter 33





It was in the early hours of the predawn morning and Bowen lay in bed, Genevieve resting at his side, her head on his shoulder as he stroked the softness of her hair.

They’d both awakened but lay in the quiet, simply enjoying the intimacy and closeness of their embrace. Every once in a while, he pressed a kiss to her brow, because he was unable to keep from touching her and kissing her in even the smallest of ways.

Her hand idly rubbed his chest in an absent manner, but he liked her touching him. He never wanted her to stop.

“How did you become so skilled with a bow?” he asked, breaking the silence.

She lifted her head to look into his eyes, surprise wrinkling her brow.

“ ’Tis obvious you have great skill. You were able to fell four men in battle, and your aim is truer than that of any man I’ve witnessed.”

“My father taught me,” she said quietly. “He oft took me hunting with him. My mother despaired of him. She told him he was trying to make a lad out of me to compensate for the fact she never gave him the son he wanted.”

She blew out her breath softly, a look of sadness clouding her eyes.

“I miss him,” she admitted.

He squeezed her to him and pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“What will happen now, Bowen? Your brother is here.”

Careful not to broach topics that would only anger him, he responded in a manner he knew to be truthful.

“I do not know. We did not speak overmuch on the matter. Today he’ll tour the keep and will likely decide on the future of the McHugh clan.”

“Promise me you won’t allow me to be the cause of dissension between the two of you.”

Bowen stiffened. Had she read more into his mood the night before than she’d let on? Was she more intuitive than he’d thought?

“Nay, lass, I won’t.”

That much was true. He refused to allow Genevieve to be a point of strife. Graeme had made himself clear, but Bowen had made himself equally clear. If Graeme could not accept her, then Bowen would take her away from the Montgomery clan. It hurt him to think of being separated from his kin—his brothers and his sister, Rorie. But it hurt even more to imagine being parted from Genevieve.

“Clan is important,” she said, a note of grief in her voice. “I miss mine. I miss Mama and Papa with all my heart, but it soothes me to know that they’ll never learn of my disgrace. It would hurt them deeply.”

There was such sadness in Genevieve’s words that it tugged at Bowen’s heart. But, more than that, it gave him pause. Her words lay heavy on him, pricking at him.

It was an uncomfortable sensation, because he knew that ’twas a huge unresolved issue, her clan. He also knew that her solution was no solution at all, and yet if her parents knew that she was alive Bowen would lose her in an instant.

The thought discomforted him—nay, completely unsettled him—to the point of panic. He couldn’t think of such. He gripped her tighter to him to assuage the unease that stole over him at the very idea of losing her.

“I want you to remain in your chamber this day, Genevieve,” Bowen said in a grim voice. “There is much to be worked out, and ’tis best if you remain out of sight. I’d not have you hurt by the words or deeds of others.”

He’d protect her from his brother’s censure. In Graeme’s current state, Bowen couldn’t be certain that he would not confront Genevieve in his anger over what she’d done to Eveline. And if he ever did so, then brother would be pitted against brother, because Bowen would never allow Graeme to disparage Genevieve.

Sadness pricked at him and he shook it off, not willing to allow a shadow to be cast over him and Genevieve. He was determined to give her the love and happiness she deserved. Even if it meant choosing her over the people he loved and held close to his heart.

It was hard not to be angry at Graeme for forcing him to make that choice. He understood Graeme’s feelings, but he went too far. He’d condemned a match between him and Genevieve without ever meeting the lass. And he hadn’t really listened to her story. He’d reacted in anger, and now Bowen was forced to do the unthinkable.

The woman he loved or the clan he was fiercely loyal to.

It was a choice no man should ever have to make. And yet he faced it now.

God help him, but he could never forgive himself or live with himself or call himself a man if he turned away from Genevieve and left her to survive on her own. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at night for wondering if she was happy, scared, alone, or hurt. And the simple truth was, he didn’t want to be without her.

Nay, the lass had endured far more hurt than a lass should ever have to endure in one lifetime. If it was left to him, she’d never suffer another moment of unhappiness.

She leaned up and kissed him, her fingertips touching the side of his face. He captured her hand, holding it against his cheek as he returned her kiss.

His body leapt to life, already hungry for her again, and he’d had her over and over throughout the night. It would never be enough. He’d never have enough of her.

He hauled her into his arms, kissing her more aggressively. And then he rolled her underneath him, spreading her thighs with his knee.

“Again?” she whispered.

“Aye, lass, again.”