Closing his eyes, he slid deeper, pushing inward until finally his hips met the backs of her thighs and the hair at his groin mingled with the baby-fine hair between her legs.
Her eyes were glazed. She looked as though she was overwhelmed, intoxicated. Her hands worked up and down his arms as if she couldn’t remain still, and then she lifted them upward to dive into the hair that streamed over his shoulders.
He withdrew, and they both groaned with the exquisite pleasure that assailed them. He thrust forward, a gentle push. He glided wetly through the tight tissues, and sweat beaded his forehead as he fought for control.
“Bowen, I need …”
“What do you need, lass? Tell me. I will give it to you if ’tis within my power.”
“I need … you,” she said in a desperate voice. “ ’Tis clawing my insides, this need. I don’t know what to do. ’Tis growing and growing until the pressure is an ache within me.”
He eased back and then thrust a little more forcefully, setting a rhythm as he rocked against her. His hands wrapped around her hips, holding her steady as he pumped in and out of her tight clasp.
Sliding one hand to her groin, he eased his thumb low, through the curls and into the V of her legs until he brushed over her quivering nub.
She tensed immediately, going so tight around him that he very nearly spent himself then and there. He groaned and halted, breathing rapidly to gain control.
Then he flicked his thumb over her again, eliciting another bone-deep shudder. She was close. Perilously close to finding her pleasure, and he wanted to take the plunge with her.
Pressing his thumb and then working in a sensual circle, he began to slide in and out, forcing himself deep. The friction was nearly unbearable. She was so tight that it was difficult to move with ease.
Her fingers dug into his arms. Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth opened in a silent cry.
She went wet around him, suddenly easing his passage, and he thrust harder and faster. She arched high off the bed, and then she did cry out, the sound garbled as it ended in a gasp.
Like a wild thing, she bucked in his grasp, and he let her, riding her as she writhed beneath him. His release gathered in his cods, tightening every muscle in his body until it bordered on pain. It raced up his shaft and exploded in a tumultuous burst. He pulsed forcefully, planting himself deeply within her only to withdraw and push himself deep again.
Finally he paused, buried inside her, his body flush against hers as he quivered and emptied the last of his seed within her.
He gathered her in his arms, wanting only to have her as close as he could manage. She was limp and sated, her satisfied sigh purring over his ears.
For a long moment, he remained buried inside her tight clasp. He had no desire to leave. If it was up to him, he’d remain this way for as long as he could, a part of her, connected in the most intimate way possible.
He kissed her temple, nuzzling her skin, and murmured again that she was the most beautiful lass in the world. They weren’t just words he offered. Platitudes he didn’t mean. He cared not about the scar that marred her face. In his eyes, she was the most beautiful lass he’d ever known and nothing would change that. Not a scar. Not circumstances. She was his, and he didn’t give one damn what others thought.
“I love you,” he murmured against her hair. “I’ll always love you, Genevieve.”
But when he pulled away, he saw that she’d already drifted into a deep sleep, her mouth curved into the tiniest hint of a smile. She looked at ease, the lines on her forehead replaced by smooth skin.
He kissed her again and gently eased himself from the warm clasp of her body. Then he pulled the covers over the both of them and gathered her close so that she would sleep in the safety of his embrace.
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.”
Chapter 34
It was well past the hour when he usually rose that Bowen made his way from Genevieve’s chamber and went in search of Graeme. Teague and Brodie weren’t within the keep, and it was likely that they’d accompanied Graeme on his tour of the McHugh holding.
The night with Genevieve had put him at peace with his decision. It had calmed and centered him when before his emotions had been in turmoil after his confrontation with Graeme. This morning he was better able to discuss the matter with Graeme, and he hoped he could make his brother see reason.
As he entered the courtyard, Graeme rode in with Teague and Brodie and dismounted. His sharp gaze found Bowen, and his features tightened.
Bowen approached with a determined stride, stopping a few feet away from Graeme. Brodie and Teague were just dismounting and Bowen hastened to say what he wanted before they came within hearing distance.
“I would speak to you privately.”
Graeme’s lips thinned. “You’ve had much to say already.”
“There is more. ’Tis information you should have before you set your mind on the matter.”
Graeme hesitated a long moment before finally nodding, and then he turned to order his horse taken care of. After his directive, he looked back at Bowen. “Come. We’ll walk to the hillside and speak there.”
Side by side the two brothers walked around the stone wall guarding the keep and a good distance away from the keep and the cottages that surrounded it.
’Twas like old times. Bowen always at Graeme’s side. Bowen always carrying out Graeme’s wishes. He was plagued by sadness over the rift between them, but it was one he hoped to have sorted.
Graeme paused, his gaze taking in their surroundings. The wind whipped around them, sailing over the hillside.
“What’s on your mind, Bowen? I assume you spent last night with Genevieve.”
There was strong disapproval in Graeme’s voice, but Bowen didn’t react. He fixed his stare on the distant river as he gathered his thoughts.
“Genevieve set Ian on a path that she thought would bring about the most likely chance of his death—and her rescue.”
“Aye, you told me. By encouraging his plan to abduct Eveline,” he said in disgust.
“Apart from the fact that you place the blame on the wrong person, Genevieve did not carry out the plan. She was not the longtime tormentor of Eveline. ’Twas Ian, and you well know it. There is more you do not know. I’ve told you that she was abducted by Ian, her face ruined by his knife, and that he raped her repeatedly. He also invited his men to do the same.”
Graeme’s face twisted in disgust and he issued a rare blasphemy.
“What I learned only last night, and I learned it because the lass was in tears and sorely afraid to confide in me, is that she was ashamed because she invited Ian to her bed, not once but twice. Do you want to know why, Graeme?”
A look of discomfort crossed Graeme’s face, but he didn’t respond. Bowen pressed on.
“She invited the bastard to her bed because he was set on raping and abusing Eveline as retribution for sins he thought she’d committed against him. Namely, ever daring to refuse him. Just as Genevieve had once done at court. Only Genevieve was not so fortunate to escape his revenge. But she could save Eveline, and she did so by willingly taking Ian to her bed in order to spare your wife. And, because she did so, she considers herself unworthy of me, my regard. Or my love.”
He finished the last fiercely, because he was gripped by rage all over again. He was furious that he’d misjudged her so, and that she still suffered the condemnation and judgment of his kin for wrongs she hadn’t committed.
Graeme’s lips formed a tight, resigned line. There was sorrow and regret in his eyes.
“ ’Tis a mess. The whole of it is a sorry tale. ’Tis disgraceful that one man caused so much suffering and grief because he was but a spoiled child deprived of all he wanted. His father is as much to blame as he.”
Bowen nodded. “Aye, he was. The lass put an arrow right through his neck. She sought retribution for the wrongs he allowed Ian to visit on others. She was full of hatred for them both.”
“ ’Tis not an easy matter before you, Bowen. Even if I grant my blessing and consent, there is the matter of her clan. You cannot hide the lass forever. ’Tis possible you’d even see them when you attend court. They would be hurt and furious if ’twas discovered that you’d kept the news of her being alive from them. They might even wage war with our clan over it.”
Bowen took in Graeme’s words, but they were not matters he hadn’t already considered. He well remembered the look on the lass’s face the night before, when she’d spoken of her family. How haunted her eyes had been. And the longing in her voice when she’d admitted she missed them.