It had infuriated him. He wanted to break her, had become obsessed with coming up with more ways to humiliate her, to hurt her, to demean and debase her.
She’d become immune to the remarks of others, and Ian had allowed them to speak to her and of her as they liked. They could look, but not touch. They could torment her, but she was Ian’s possession—obsessively coveted to the point of madness.
She existed in a world that had become her public and private hell. In the first months, she’d spent an inordinate amount of time questioning. Why? Why was this being done to her? She was obsessed with knowing what sin she’d committed to merit such treatment. Animals were treated with better regard than she.
Every word, every comment, every dig, she’d taken to heart. Until the day she’d become numb to it all. It worried her on a distant level that she’d become so … inhuman. Like a thing. A ghost with no feelings, no emotions. Her body remained, but her spirit had long since departed.
But how else was she to survive? Moreover, why was she so determined to survive? It seemed so silly that her pride wouldn’t allow Ian to fully break her. She wouldn’t give him or his clan the satisfaction of knowing they’d completely destroyed her. Nay, she’d survive this, and after she left this place? Then she could die or not die. Survive or not survive. It mattered not, because no one would know.
She sucked in several breaths as they jerkily left her body in ragged spurts. She’d very nearly lost control of her emotions there in the hall, in front of everyone.
Her humiliation had been so great that she’d been tempted to tears. To let it all unravel there and finally let go.
Thank God she hadn’t. Thank God she’d kept it together just long enough to seek solace in the tiny chamber that was her only sanctuary. If only she could bar her door against the world, but Ian had allowed her no bolt, no lock, no loops in which to place a slat of wood to secure the door shut.
She had no privacy save that afforded by others. She had no rights, no privileges, not even the basest, most inconsequential things that others took for granted.
The mat was hard and uncomfortable. Her leg was prickly and numb from the awkward position in which she sat, so she drew her knees upward until she hugged them to her chest and hunched over to rest her cheek over the tops.
She closed her eyes and wondered what bargain she could strike with Bowen Montgomery that would gain her the freedom she craved above all else.
There was only one skill she possessed that a man like Bowen Montgomery might be interested in—if one could even call it a skill. And the idea of whoring herself willingly sickened her to the point that her stomach rebelled and protested vehemently.
But what else was she to do? What else did she have to offer?
Nothing.
What was one more coupling compared with gaining her freedom? Surely Bowen could not be as brutal as Ian. There was kindness in his eyes. She hadn’t imagined it. Perhaps he would be gentle with her, or, at least, not as sadistic as Ian.
It was a hope that she clung to when there was nothing else to hold on to.
Fear struck her as she remembered Bowen’s brother and the two Armstrong warriors who’d accompanied Bowen on his quest. What if they demanded her services as well? What if Bowen wanted to share her with them?
A low moan escaped her. It was a pitiful sound that came out as more of a soulless wail. She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to give in to the abject despair that clawed at her.
She wouldn’t give up. Not now. Not when she’d survived so much.
She had hope, no matter how unlikely it might be. It was more than she’d had in the past. Ian was dead. He couldn’t hurt her, couldn’t control her, any longer. Now she just had to trust that not all men were as evil as Ian. And pray to God they didn’t prove her wrong.
Chapter 6
Bowen stood in the doorway of Genevieve’s room, staring through the three-inch opening to where she sat on a shabby sleeping mat.
Her legs were drawn protectively to her chest, and he wondered if she had any idea how vulnerable such a position made her look.
Then she let out a low wail that was so filled with despair that it clutched at his throat, squeezing until it was difficult to draw breath.
He hesitated, his earlier determination to speak to her waning. She was suffering. Privately. Away from prying eyes and the disparagement of others. He should walk away and not let on that he’d been here at all.
But he couldn’t. It made no sense to him that he was fascinated by this particular lass. She intrigued him. She was a mystery he was determined to solve.
And he owed her a debt for the aid she’d given his brother in finding Eveline. Aye, he did, and he left no debt unpaid.
He pushed her door open wider and took a step forward. When she didn’t stir, he cleared his throat, alerting her to his presence.
Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing in alarm. Her stance was immediately defensive, and so automatic that it seemed she’d had much practice in defending herself. That thought made him frown.
“Why do you take it from them?” he asked bluntly, because there was no subtle way for him to ask what he wanted to know.
Her eyes widened, as though she couldn’t believe that he’d been so forthright.
“Why do you suffer their abuse and allow their words to go unchecked. You don’t strike me as an overly meek lass.”
She lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug that shrouded her in a look of utter defeat. Exhaustion swam in her eyes and there was such resignation that it made him flinch.
Never had he witnessed such expressive eyes, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Every emotion was there to see in the aqua-green pools. Her early stoicism was gone, and now he realized how hard she’d had to work at keeping her face expressionless. The façade had crumbled. One had only to look closely to know exactly what she was feeling. She’d never make a warrior. She gave away entirely too much.
“They only speak the truth,” she said in a brittle voice. “Should I rail at them for daring to say what is true?”
Bowen frowned, his stomach revolting at the thought. And yet he still couldn’t quite accept it.
“You were Ian McHugh’s whore?”
She flinched at the baldness of the question, but Bowen had never been one to mince words. Graeme was far superior with honeyed words. Bowen had the disconcerting habit of speaking his mind.
Then she raised her gaze to meet his, and he blinked at the dullness that had replaced the wash of emotion. It was as though someone had doused a lit candle, plunging a room into darkness.
“Aye, I was Ian McHugh’s whore,” she said bitterly. “ ’Tis common enough knowledge. Ask anyone in the keep. They’ll tell you the way of it.”
He couldn’t help his expression or the distaste that crept into his mouth. He shook his head, unable to comprehend why.
She pushed herself from the mat and paced a few feet away before turning, her arms securely folded over her chest. Again, he noted the protectiveness of her stance. It was as if every movement were for the sole purpose of self-preservation.
“I would speak to you on a personal matter,” she said in a careful tone.
Perplexed by the abrupt change of topic, he merely nodded, curious as to what the lass would say to him.
“I do not wish to remain here any longer,” she said. “I have nowhere to go. No family to aid me. The McHughs are not my kin and they will not care what happens to me. I cannot depend on their generosity to provide for me.”
Bowen started to interrupt her, to say that the McHughs had little say in what happened at this keep, but Genevieve continued in a trembling voice, the only hint of how unsettled she was.
“Please, good sir, pray let me continue before my courage leaves me.”
Bowen nodded his agreement, and Genevieve took in a deep breath. She turned her face away, so that the scarred cheek was hidden from view. He didn’t know if she did it apurpose or if it was purely instinctive to hide that part of herself.
“I should like to seek refuge in an abbey, but I would need transport and … coin … neither of which I possess,” she whispered. “I aided your brother, and though it was not why I did such a thing, I would be ever appreciative if you would see fit to provide for my entry into the abbey.”
His brows drew together as he stared at her in disbelief. It was the very last thing he imagined her requesting.
Her hands fluttered nervously and she rubbed self-consciously over her scarred cheek before pulling her hair forward to hide the deformity.
“I would be willing to stay for as long as you need assistance in assuming leadership over the McHugh clan. I can give you information. I can also give you … ease.”
Her cheek colored and her gaze fell. She wiped her hands down the skirts of her dress over and over as she waited.
“Ease?” he echoed, not at all sure what she’d just offered. He had an inkling, but surely not.
“I would act as your leman,” she blurted. “For as long as you want or need, provided at the end of our … liaison … you would escort me to an abbey so that I may seek entrance.”
He gaped incredulously at her. And then he laughed, because what else was there to do? She spoke of entering an abbey and in the next breath offered to act the whore for him.
Perhaps he hadn’t fully believed the truth of what she was to Ian until now. She bargained with her body like a seasoned whore, and he was disgusted by the idea that she would sell herself to him, bartering as if this were a common exchange of goods and services.
More color stained her cheeks, and her eyes flashed with … hurt? How could she possibly be hurt? Nothing about this woman made any sense to him, and he had the idea that he’d never fully know the whole of her. It would likely infuriate him to ever try to understand the inner workings of her mind.
“I know I am naught to look at,” she said quietly. “I do not blame you for your disgust. ’Tis said I have skill in … bed.”
She choked out the last word as if it were suffocating her. The color had fled from her face, and she looked ill.
Jesu, but this became messier all the time. Now the lass was convinced that his disgust was over the scar on her face.
He sighed, angered by the whole of it. And more than a little appalled that she’d offered herself without care. She hadn’t displayed even a modicum of self-respect.
Aye, it didn’t just make him angry. It made him bloody well furious.
“Do you not have more pride?” he demanded. “Do you offer yourself to every man who crosses your path, or is it because you find yourself without a protector now that your lover is dead. Would any man do?”
She went utterly white. “Protector?”
A hoarse, dry laugh escaped her, and the sound was guttural and ugly in the silence. He thought that she would say more, but she clamped her mouth shut and leveled a stare at him.
Her eyes were cold, unfeeling. The façade was back. No emotion reflected whatsoever. It was like looking across the waters of a loch in winter.
“What say you, Bowen Montgomery? Will you accept my proposition? Do we have an agreement or nay?”
He shook his head, distaste foul in his mouth. “I have no desire for Ian McHugh’s leavings.”
He spun on his heel and stalked from the room, but not before he saw the flash of anguish replace the coldness in her eyes.
Chapter 7
Bowen strode through the keep and into the courtyard. The hall was devoid of people and eerily quiet. They’d all been summoned by Teague to hear their fate.
It was a damnable mess. There wasn’t even that much to claim. Patrick had fled and taken all that was in the coffers, leaving his clansmen to fend for themselves.
The cowardly act was incomprehensible, for when a man took the position of laird to his clan he made a vow to provide for and to protect every last person under his leadership.
What was Bowen even to do with the McHugh people and what was left of the keep? He would have to petition Graeme for supplies and coin in order to care for those who remained.
He stepped into the sunlight and surveyed the assembled clansmen. As soon as his presence was detected, all eyes went to him. There were more McHughs than Bowen had originally thought. Not as many had fled with Patrick as assumed, and perhaps they’d known better.
But their wealth was gone. Most of the horses and livestock had been taken. And now Bowen was left with a mess to clean up.
He found Teague, Aiden, and Brodie, who stood by the steps leading into the keep. He put his hand on Teague’s shoulder so he could address his brother.
“I would send you to Graeme with an accounting of what has occurred. We have need of supplies, coin, food. Graeme will need to know exactly what has happened here and make a decision on the matter. I will voice my recommendation through you, but, ’tis ultimately his choice. The king will also have need to know what has occurred. Rumors will circulate rapidly through the Highlands, and I’d rather Graeme and our king know firsthand what is the truth.”
Teague nodded his agreement, but then he frowned and turned to Aiden and Brodie.
“We discussed that you would return to your father’s lands and take back your soldiers. I will be returning part of our army to my brother so that our clan is not left unprotected.”
Brodie nodded.
Teague glanced back at Bowen, and then again at the Armstrong brothers.
“ ’Tis something I never thought would happen, but I have a boon to ask.”
Brodie’s eyebrows went up, and he and his brother exchanged quick glances of surprise.
“If I am to journey back to Montgomery Keep with the majority of our men, and you are to return to your father’s keep with the whole of your army, Bowen will be left in a vulnerable position here.”