“Genevieve, is aught amiss?” Bowen demanded. “Is the water bad?”
“Just went down wrong,” she said, eyes still streaming. “ ’Tis nothing to concern yourself over.”
Suspicious, Bowen snatched the goblet before she could move it and took a cautious sip. He immediately grimaced, and he’d taken only the barest amount into his mouth. It was brine, so heavily salted that no one could possibly drink it.
His blood boiled at the insult leveled against Genevieve, and his fist pounded down on the table, causing several of the nearby serving women to jump and glance nervously his way.
“Bring me fresh water,” he roared.
A woman scurried to do his bidding, and he was careful to taste the water himself before handing it to Genevieve. She looked shocked, and slowly took it from his hand, raising it to her lips.
She gulped down several swallows and then eased the goblet down onto the table.
Salt was a precious and expensive commodity and that it would be wasted on a malicious prank when the clan had so little angered Bowen as much as the slight itself.
“Is the food always thus?” Bowen asked Genevieve and Taliesan.
Genevieve’s face flushed with color and she looked down, refusing to meet Bowen’s gaze.
“ ’Tis usual fare,” Taliesan said, seemingly confused by Bowen’s question.
But Bowen was focused more on Genevieve and her reaction.
“Genevieve? Do you not have an opinion on the matter?”
“I wouldn’t know, Laird,” she said quietly. “I was never allowed to eat in the hall. ’Tis the first time I’ve done so since my arrival here. I was always brought bread or cheese in my chamber. Sometimes gruel or an oatcake. The better fare was reserved for the clan.”
He was sorry he’d asked, because now he seethed with anger. Genevieve had been treated like an animal. A captive beast shown no regard or caring. It enraged him that any woman should be treated this way.
“Better fare?” Teague snorted. “ ’Tis more likely you had the better of it.”
Disdain was clear in his voice.
“I’ll be sure to bring staples,” Teague muttered. “Perhaps ’tis a good idea for you to lead a hunt while I’m gone. This meat tastes as though it was harvested months ago.”
Bowen nodded his agreement. One of his first priorities had to be stocking the larders.
“We had better,” Taliesan blurted.
Her face went dark red and she lowered her head.
“What mean you, lass?” Brodie asked in a gentle voice.
“ ’Tis disloyal of me to say,” she murmured.
“Speak freely. There’s no one to gainsay you here,” Bowen pointed out.
Still, she was reluctant as she raised her head. “The laird took most of the fresh stores, leaving the older meat behind. He packed two horses with meat from recent hunts. There was stag, boar, and lamb. He took it all.”
Teague scowled. “As soon as I’ve apprised Graeme of the situation, we lead a hunting party for Patrick McHugh. He has much to answer to.”
Again Bowen nodded. “ ’Tis true he is a priority, but our foremost concern is the care of the people of this clan. We cannot allow them to starve or be without adequate protection while we seek revenge on a coward who has fled.”
Aiden inclined his head. “ ’Tis true enough and you’ve the right of it, Bowen. ’Tis a good leader who thinks first of the clan.”
“I only do as I know Graeme would do if he were present,” Bowen said matter-of-factly.
He turned to Genevieve, who’d yet to touch her serving of food. She seemed afraid to try it after the water debacle. He couldn’t say he blamed her.
“What would you like, lass?” he asked in a low voice. “The fare they served the rest of us is not good. I can ask for bread and cheese if ’tis what you prefer.”
“I would like that,” she said quietly. “If ’tis not too much trouble. I do not want to cause strife.”
“And I care not,” Bowen said calmly. “They will obey without question or pay the consequences. They will offer you their respect and cease the childish jests against you. I will not be crossed in this manner.”
Her eyes warmed and a hint of a smile curved her plump lips upward until he was fascinated by the twinkle in her gaze. In that moment, she was beautiful. ’Twas easy to forget the scar that marred the other side of her cheek, for the rest of her face was smooth and silky, and so beautiful that it made him ache.
Her courage and resilience gave her beauty that physical attributes—or the lack thereof—could never touch. She made such an effort to hide her deformity from him and the world that it was easy to forget it entirely, and it was always a shock when he was confronted with it.
More serving women came by the table, smiling shyly, some boldly in his direction, as they served him more ale and freshened his plate with warmer food. Not that he thought it would help.
He was surprised by the daring of a few. They coquettishly propositioned him with subtle hints—some less so than others. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to lasses making overtures. Graeme teased him about having more than his fair share of women, and Graeme and Teague both jested that Bowen would throw up the skirt of any willing woman.
It wasn’t entirely true, though he didn’t argue with their assumption. ’Twas no use when their minds were made up and their view of him had been sealed.
But he did gain a lot of female attention wherever he went, and while some men would welcome it, he found it inconvenient. Particularly when the women were married and he had to worry about irate husbands.
Genevieve’s lips grew tighter and tighter as the meal wore on. She looked pale, as though she were ready to retire before she dropped on the floor.
“Is aught amiss?” Bowen whispered, leaning forward so he could converse quietly with Genevieve.
“They are such hypocrites,” she bit out, every word laced with fury.
Taken aback by her vehemence, he lifted an eyebrow in question as he stared at her.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know precisely what they want from you,” she hissed. “And yet they would judge me and find me lacking for something that wasn’t my choice when they offer their bodies to you freely. ’Tis ridiculous.”
Her point was well taken, but Bowen also knew that nothing would change their opinions. Pointing out their blatant hypocrisy would only enrage them further and turn them even more solidly against Genevieve. If that were possible.
Genevieve gave an audible sigh of relief when the serving women began collecting the trenchers, signaling the end of the evening meal.
“I should like to go up to my chamber, Laird,” she said in a demure voice that didn’t quite fit the Genevieve he knew.
“You have been moved to the one adjoining mine,” Bowen said firmly. Let the clansmen make of that what they wanted, but they wouldn’t dare to speak out against him within his hearing or they would suffer the consequences. “You may go up as long as Taliesan accompanies you. I’ve moved her also, to the chamber on the other side of you.”
Taliesan looked surprise. “But, Laird, I’ve always resided in a cottage outside the keep. I’ve never been afforded the privilege of remaining inside.”
“Now you have,” Brodie said with a scowl. “You and Genevieve will reside in adjoining rooms.”
Taliesan clapped her hands together in excitement. “ ’Tis wonderful, Genevieve! No longer will you have to worry about unwelcome visits. You’ll have Bowen on one side of you and me on the other.”
Brodie was unsmiling as he said his next words, and yet there was something odd in his voice. “I will be across the hall from both of you. If you have need of anything, I expect you to come to me.”
“Or me,” Bowen said.
Taliesan smiled, her cheeks turning pink and her eyes sparkling with warmth. “We will.”
Chapter 11
Genevieve sagged onto the bed and placed her palms down on the soft mattress, caressing the linens in an absent manner. A bed was a luxury she hadn’t enjoyed in a year. Not since leaving her own chamber in her father’s keep.
She’d been spoiled. Shamelessly so. Her every need was seen to. She’d been loved, pampered, and doted on.
Sorrow plagued her, and she tried her best to shake it from her chest and heart.
The only time she’d been allowed on a real bed was when Ian was using her. She’d grown to dread such a thing as a mattress, for as long as she was on the hard floor with the thin mat she slept on, she was safe from his attentions.
Bowen had seen to her comfort by having someone light a fire in the hearth and leave a jug of water by the washbasin near the window. The furs had been tightly drawn and secured, and candles had been strategically placed and lit around the room, so that it was softly illuminated by the warm glow from the small flames.
She should crave the isolation. She should be relieved and grateful that no one would bother her. And yet she felt hopelessly alone. Fearful and edgy.
In all honesty, she had no idea what to do with herself.
She sat utterly still and absorbed the change in the direction of her thoughts. Her plans. Everything had been sorted out in her mind, and then Bowen Montgomery had changed it all with his bold directive.
It should chafe her that he ordered her to stay within the keep. For an entire year she’d been subjected to the authority and rule of a man who had no care for her other than the misery he could cause her. And yet something about Bowen Montgomery made her stupidly … hopeful.
Ah, that word again. Hope. How sweet it was.
A knock sounded at her door, and she frowned. But before she could rise to answer the summons the door opened and Taliesan stuck her head inside.
“May I come in?”
Genevieve relaxed and motioned for Taliesan to enter.
The other woman carefully navigated her way into the room and limped heavily toward the bed where Genevieve sat.
“Is aught amiss?” Genevieve asked in concern.
Taliesan sank heavily onto the edge of the bed, rubbing her thigh through her skirts. “Nay. I was too excited to sleep, and the room is quite beautiful. ’Tis nearly as large as the entire cottage where I lived with my kin.”
Genevieve took in the tightness of Taliesan’s lips, despite the fact that nothing else in her demeanor suggested that anything was wrong. “Your leg is paining you, aye?”
Taliesan grimaced and looked down to where the heel of her palm was planted into her thigh. “Aye, but ’tis nothing I haven’t dealt with before. ’Tis the way of things and naught to do about it.”
“I’m sorry,” Genevieve said softly.
Taliesan sent her a startled look. “Whatever for?”
“That you suffer pain. I wouldn’t wish such a thing on anyone.”
“You’ve a good heart, Genevieve McInnis,” Taliesan said. “ ’Tis glad I am that we are friends.”
It was still an odd sensation to think of having an actual friend among the McHughs. It made little sense. The McHugh clan represented everything that was evil in the world. ’Twas true enough that Ian was but one man and that she couldn’t hold the rest of his clan responsible for his actions, but no one had stepped forward to help her. No one had said this isn’t right.
It was foolish of her to expend any anger or resentment over the matter. What, really, could any of the clansmen have done?
But simmering in the back of her mind was the memory of how they’d treated her. With such disdain and venom when they’d known full well that she was a victim. And that was what she couldn’t forgive.
They could have shown her compassion. Even if they couldn’t go against their laird and his son, they could at least have looked kindly upon her.
She wanted to hate them all and be done with this place, yet she couldn’t conjure any dislike of Taliesan—nor could she ignore Bowen’s edict that she remain.
And so here she was, treated as an honored guest in the very keep that had been her hell.
Taliesan tentatively touched Genevieve’s arm, and it was then that Genevieve realized that Taliesan had been speaking to her while she’d been lost in her thoughts. She blinked rapidly and turned her attention to the other woman.
“What will you do now, Genevieve?” Taliesan asked softly. “I’m sorry for sending Bowen after you.”
She shook her head and withdrew her hand from Genevieve’s arm to twine it with her other hand in her lap. Her voice was so low that Genevieve nearly couldn’t hear her.
“Nay, that’s not truthful. I’m not sorry, because I worried greatly for you when you left alone and on foot. I know it was not my place to intervene, but I couldn’t let something happen to you like what happened a year ago.”
Taliesan glanced up, her eyes awash in earnestness.
“Pray forgive me, Genevieve, for truly, I had only your best interests at heart.”
Genevieve sighed. “ ’Twas a foolish thing for me to attempt. I wasn’t thinking clearly and had no plan or means to travel to my destination. I only wanted away.”
“I know it’s been horrible for you here,” Taliesan said in a low voice. “But no longer do you have to suffer. Bowen has championed you. He and his kin seem like good men. Nothing like Ian.”
Genevieve shuddered in revulsion. “Nay, not like Ian. At least, not yet.”
Taliesan’s gaze was sharp, her eyes narrowing as she stared hard at Genevieve. “Think you ’tis a trick?”
“I know not what to think,” Genevieve said truthfully. “But ’twould be foolhardy of me to blindly put my faith in Bowen Montgomery—or any other man. He seems to be genuine and fair, but then Ian could be charming and convincing when he wanted.”