He caressed the mangled flesh, her distress increasing with every second his fingers touched her with such gentleness.
“I propose that we both forget about what occurred in your chamber earlier. I acted reprehensibly.”
She shook her head, trying to free her cheek from his hand, but he palmed her jaw, holding his hand firmly in position.
“You reacted in disgust, as you should have. Who could blame you? What does a woman like me have to offer a man such as you? You’re beautiful,” she blurted out. “You could have any lass you crooked your finger at.”
Aye, ’twas true. The man was simply divine to look at. Not a single imperfection marred his body—or at least, what she could see of it. He was so beautiful to look at that she was sure many a lass had sighed upon setting eyes on him.
“I was once fair to look upon,” she whispered. “And now I am ruined.” She touched her face just above where his fingers rested and then offered a hoarse laugh that was abrasive in the still air. “Ruined in more ways than one. No part of me has survived Ian McHugh’s possession. I’ll never be whole again.”
There was blackness in Bowen’s expression that should have frightened her. Perhaps if she had anything left to lose, she would have been more afraid. As it was, she looked at him bleakly, resignation whispering through her veins.
“ ’Tis not your dishonor you wear,” he said darkly. “ ’Tis no shame for bearing what is done to you and working to preserve your dignity.”
She laughed again, the sound harsh and abrasive. “Dignity? I have none. None was allowed me. I proved that none remains when I offered to whore myself to you.”
She closed her eyes against a fresh surge of tears, humiliation chanting an awful litany in her head.
“You can’t imagine how it feels to have no other choice or to believe that all you’re worth is what you can offer a man through your body. I used to think I’d reached my absolute lowest point, and that I couldn’t possibly debase myself any more than I already had. I was wrong. ’Tis when I willingly offered my … s-s-services … to you that I realized I’d sunk as low as was possible. And yet I was so desperate for freedom that I was willing to debase myself, to face you with no shame or pride. I hate myself for that.”
She choked out the words, her anger and grief swelling with every passing second. She wanted to rage against the world. Wanted to scream at the helplessness of her situation and the unfairness of it all.
Bowen’s eyes glittered. He was furious. She couldn’t blame him.
“I wish with all my heart and soul that my brother hadn’t killed Ian McHugh,” Bowen growled.
Her eyes widened and her lips quivered. “Why would you want him to live?”
He pulled her close, until she was pressed to his body, his heat wrapping around her like the warmest fur in winter. He caressed her scarred cheek with a touch so tender that it was a physical ache in her soul.
His head lowered until his mouth was but mere inches from hers. His eyes were fierce, yet when he spoke his voice was quiet and resolute.
“So that I could kill him now for all he has done to you.”
Another tear crept over her eyelid and slipped unchecked down her cheek. He thumbed it gently away.
“Do not cry, Genevieve. ’Tis more than I can bear to see your tears.”
She bowed her head, staring downward, but he eased his palm down to cup her chin and then he carefully nudged upward so she was forced to meet his gaze again.
“I’m taking you back to the keep,” he said, his voice firm, brooking no argument. “You’ll be assigned a new chamber. I want your promise that you’ll not venture out alone again. I will not allow you to be ill-treated ever again, Genevieve. That is the promise I make to you.”
She couldn’t draw breath. She stared into Bowen Montgomery’s eyes, looking for any sign of deceit or treachery. All she saw was burning sincerity—and rage. Rage for her. Not at her, but on her behalf. It baffled her. He was a complete stranger. He owed her nothing. He had every reason to despise Ian McHugh and his whore. It would be so easy to lay siege to the keep and use her in any manner he saw fit. And yet he treated her gently.
The most unlikely of champions, and the most unlikely woman to inspire a man to champion her cause. She was naught but a scarred whore, and he was so handsome that he turned heads wherever he went. He was brother to one of the mightiest lairds in the Highlands, and he wielded much wealth and power.
It was absolutely true what she’d said earlier. This was a man who could have any woman he desired in all of Scotland.
And yet he seemed determined, whether she wished it or not, to see to her needs and … protect … her.
No one since her father and brothers had protected or sheltered her. No one had protected her against Ian, and Ian hadn’t protected her from the words and actions of his own clan.
She was so overcome that she couldn’t even put to words all that she was thinking.
“And when you leave?” she asked, fear already clutching her throat. “When you leave this place and I am naught but a memory, what then will happen to me?”
“I’ll not leave you to this fate,” he said in a quiet, firm voice. “If you have not changed your mind about sending word to your kin, then you’ll either be placed with my clan and offered the protection that extends to all Montgomerys or I’ll do as you asked and see you well placed at an abbey.”
Relief was sweet and swift. She sagged, her shoulders drooping, and closed her eyes to savor the promise of sanctuary.
Such a wondrous thing. Hope. Something she’d been so long without. And yet now it bloomed, like the first blossom in spring, spreading its petals to seek the sun.
It was overpowering in its intensity, and she welcomed it, savoring it like a lost friend.
Hope was the sweetest gift. It made her look to the future, not in dread or despair but with new eyes.
“Thank you,” she choked out.
Her fingers pressed into his muscular arms, her grip tight. She feared if she let go she would awake from a dream and find none of this was real.
“There is naught to thank me for. Now come. Let us return to the keep so that we may partake of the evening meal. You must be exhausted from your worries and the walk from the keep.”
“You are an angel sent from God at last,” she whispered. “I prayed for so long for one. I thought He had forgotten me, surely.”
Bowen’s features tightened and darkened. “I come too late. I have saved you from none of your misery. Would that I had known of your plight earlier. I would have come, Genevieve. I would have saved you.”
She put her hand on his forearm, noting the paleness of her skin against his much darker flesh. “ ’Tis not true. Your kindness is a beacon on the darkest night. I had forgotten that goodness exists.”
He seemed discomfited by her praise, but she met his gaze, never once looking away, so that her sincerity could not be questioned.
Then he slid an arm around her waist and guided her toward his horse a few feet away.
“Come. You ride with me. Let us return before the others become worried.”
Genevieve went gladly, marveling that she’d ever be happy about returning to McHugh Keep, a place that had been her hell for an entire year.
And she held his promise close to her heart, hugging it with every fiber of her being.
Chapter 10
When Bowen rode into the courtyard with Genevieve, he was treated to several knowing looks, which annoyed him. There were smirks from the McHugh clansmen, outright expressions of disdain from the McHugh women, and even his brother and the two Armstrong brothers raised their eyebrows.
Still, Teague, ever the gentleman, came forward to assist Genevieve from Bowen’s horse so that Bowen could dismount. Genevieve was wary of Teague and immediately put distance between them. Teague frowned at her as if she gave him insult for fearing he would harm her.
Taliesan limped heavily into the courtyard, her gait far too fast for a woman with a lame leg. He started to call out a warning to her when she stumbled.
Acting quickly, Brodie caught her before she went down. She came up, her face scarlet with embarrassment, but she didn’t allow it to deter her from her goal.
After murmuring a quick thank-you and a curtsy to Brodie, she continued on her way, at a more sedate but no less determined pace toward Genevieve.
“I would speak to you before I depart on the morrow,” Teague whispered so only Bowen could hear.
Bowen nodded his agreement. “After the evening meal.”
Teague stepped away and motioned for one of the Montgomery men to tend to Bowen’s horse.
Taliesan finally made her way to Genevieve and grasped both of Genevieve’s hands, her face reflecting her obvious relief.
“Thank God you’ve returned,” Taliesan said.
Then, as if realizing the absurdity of what she’d said, she flushed and clutched Genevieve’s hands harder.
“I sent Bowen after you. Please don’t be angry with me. ’Tis no place for a woman alone, out on her own with no protection. I know you are unhappy here, but ’tis my hope that this will change under the Montgomerys’ direction.”
Bowen watched Genevieve closely, hoping she wouldn’t hurt the lass’s feelings, particularly when Taliesan had been so worried for her. Her heart had been in the right place, and she’d been genuinely concerned over Genevieve’s fate.
He needn’t have worried. Genevieve managed a half smile and she returned Taliesan’s squeeze. “I thank you for your concern, Talie. ’Tis true enough that Bowen fetched me back, and for now ’tis glad I am to be here.”
But Bowen saw the uncertainty and fear in her gaze as she surveyed the McHughs who dotted the courtyard and beyond, watching from the steps to the keep. There was scorn and derision in their stares that Genevieve would have to be a simpleton to miss.
She notched her chin upward, her face becoming bland and indecipherable. It was her mask, one he had quickly identified as her way of blocking out the shame and humiliation she experienced at the hands of others.
The lass may have said she no longer had pride, but she was dead wrong. She possessed more determination than most warriors of his acquaintance. She’d so perfected the “you can’t hurt me” shield that she resembled an ice princess whose features were implacable.
After hearing of all that Ian McHugh had done to her—and he was sure he hadn’t heard the whole of it—he wouldn’t blame the lass if she had no spirit or will left. But she did, and he couldn’t fathom how.
He would keep his promise to her to see her protected by his clan or well placed in the abbey of her choosing. But first he would attempt to change her mind about her family, because a lass needed her family above all else. He couldn’t imagine Eveline without the support of her family, as well as that of the clan she’d married into.
And, he realized, he wanted Genevieve to be happy, because when he looked at her he saw a sadness and resignation so deep that it weighed heavy in his chest. ’Twas not a comfortable sensation.
Her fate could have been Eveline’s. He’d grown to like his sister by marriage very much. She’d gained his respect and affection. Were it not for her resourcefulness, she would even now be wed to Ian McHugh.
The thought struck him that if Eveline had been married to Ian some years ago, as she was poised to do, it was likely Ian would never have met Genevieve. Never have become obsessed with her. Never have abducted and abused her for an entire year.
It was a sobering realization, and he felt guilt over his relief that Eveline had escaped unscathed.
“ ’Tis past time to be eating,” Bowen announced loudly.
Genevieve regarded him hesitantly and hung back, watching as he started toward the entrance to the keep. But he stopped beside her and extended his arm, waiting patiently as she surveyed him nervously.
Finally, she slipped her hand over the top of his arm, resting it delicately, as was proper, and then he started forward, escorting her into the hall.
When he glanced back, he was satisfied to see that Brodie had waited patiently for Taliesan to make her way and shadowed her every step, watching carefully that she didn’t fall.
Taliesan was a good lass, earnest and perhaps too trusting and good-hearted. Time had made Bowen cynical, and he knew it wasn’t a falsehood that Taliesan would eventually be hardened by her experiences with others.
He sighed, because it would be a sad day indeed for a lass such as Taliesan to learn such a hard lesson. It was one that Eveline had learned firsthand from his own clan. It shamed him to admit, but his clan had been horrid to her when she’d first come to them.
Bowen seated himself at the high table and placed Genevieve on his right, while Teague took the seat on his left. Aiden and Brodie sat across from each other, and Brodie positioned Taliesan next to Genevieve. Bowen nodded approvingly at Brodie for placing a friendly ally beside Genevieve.
The serving women began to bring out food, and Bowen frowned as he sampled the fare. It was cold. Not at all appetizing, and it tasted old. A glance around the room signaled that no one else seemed to have issue, but one look at his own table told a different story.
Teague nearly choked on the first bite of his food. Aiden didn’t even bother disguising his reaction, and promptly spat a mouthful onto the floor. Brodie swallowed with much difficulty, while Taliesan shoved the food around with her spoon.
Genevieve simply stared down at her plate, her face pale, her mouth set into firm lines. She reached for her goblet and took several swallows of the water she’d requested instead of ale.
She instantly choked and sputtered, water nearly spewing from her mouth. She bent her head and coughed harshly into her skirts. Her eyes watered and she couldn’t seem to gain her breath.