Highlander Most Wanted Page 0,108

It would be a lovely end to the day.”

“And if I win?” Rorie challenged.

“If you win, I’ll send a missive to my father asking for scrolls from his personal library.”

Rorie’s eyes grew round and she clasped her hands together in excitement. “Oh, I must win, then!”

“Was there any doubt?” Graeme said dryly. “A more competitive lass I’ve never known. I’m still convinced you were born a lad and we just haven’t discovered it yet.”

Rorie stuck out her tongue at Graeme and turned to Genevieve.

“You set the target, Genevieve! ’Tis you who will be judge.”

Bowen observed the glow in Genevieve’s eyes. The shadows were gone, and there was not the haunted look he’d learned to associate with her. She looked happy, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

He wanted nothing more than to bear her back to the keep and make love to her for the next three days, until neither of them had strength any longer.

The men stood patiently and watched as the two lasses took their turns aiming at the target. Considering the short while they’d been practicing, both displayed impressive skill.

But it was Rorie who won the day, not that Bowen or Graeme was surprised. She edged Eveline about by the barest of inches with her very last shot. At which point she thrust her arms in the air and let out a bellow of victory that rivaled that of any warrior on the battlefield.

“Send word to your father, Eveline!” Rorie crowed.

Eveline smiled. “I’ll send a messenger on the morrow. My father’s library is filled with manuscripts. I’m sure there is something that will interest you.”

Rorie clapped her hands. “Anything he sends will be wonderful!” Then she threw her arms around Genevieve, and hugged her fiercely. “Thank you, Genevieve. ’Tis the most fun I’ve had in ages!”

Genevieve laughed and hugged her back. “You’re very welcome. If you continue to practice, you’ll be quite the marksman. Perhaps your brothers will seek to bring you into battle.”

Graeme scowled. “Not bloody likely. The imp finds enough trouble within the walls of the keep.”

The women laughed, and Eveline linked her arms through Genevieve’s and Rorie’s and they started back toward the keep. She turned and smiled sweetly at Bowen and Graeme.

“Be a dear and fetch Genevieve’s bow and arrows for us. I find I’m famished after so much exercise. We’re going to the kitchens to see what can be found to eat.”

Graeme sighed as the women walked back toward the keep, their chatter rising and filling the air. He shook his head and bent to retrieve the bow and the quiver that housed the arrows.

“I think my life will be anything but dull as long as they are together,” Graeme said in resignation.

But Bowen was staring after the women, his heart aching for what could be. Rorie and Eveline had welcomed Genevieve with open arms. This could be his future. Surrounded by his clan, the woman he loved, and a family so dear to him. This could be his life.

But Genevieve deserved to be with her own kin. He couldn’t imagine thinking Rorie dead and losing her. If she was alive, he’d want her back, and he’d move mountains to make it so. Genevieve’s family would be no different.

CHAPTER 42

Bowen held Genevieve close to him, nestled in the curve of his arm. He kissed her forehead and rubbed his hand up and down the silken skin of her arm as he lay contemplating the past few days.

They’d been idyllic. Borrowed time. Genevieve seemed so happy here. Her eyes were filled with a joy and light that he hadn’t seen when they were at McHugh Keep.

He knew the decision to take her away and have her reunited with her family here had been the right one. She needed distance from the place that had brought her so much pain and suffering.

But with each passing day, and each passing night spent in each other’s arms, he drew closer to the time when they would have to part, and a little piece of him died with every hour.

She stirred against him, whispered a sweet sigh of contentment, and then settled back into sleep.

The urgency with which he took her had increased with each stolen night. She’d barely settled into sleep before dawn had crept over the horizon, and he’d remained awake, watching her, soaking in every detail of her body, committing it to memory so that those images would sustain him through the coming years.

He knew he would never take a