Highlander Most Wanted Page 0,32

him, and the more he learned, the more intrigued he became.

“Take Taliesan to break her fast,” Bowen directed. “I have need to speak to Genevieve.”

Taliesan’s eyes were stricken. “I beg you, Laird. Be merciful with her. She’s so fragile that she could break at any moment. I don’t know how she’s managed to remain so stalwart for so long.”

“I’ll do my best, but, Taliesan, what you must realize is that if she’s a traitor to my people, she will have to be dealt with accordingly.”

Taliesan’s face crumbled and she looked away, her hands wringing in obvious distress. Brodie touched her arm and guided her back toward the keep.

Bowen sucked in a deep breath and turned in the direction of the stream that snaked through the back of the keep beyond the protective stone walls. It was foolhardy for a woman alone to venture out to bathe in the stream. Anyone could happen upon her and either abuse her on the spot or spirit her away and she’d never be seen or heard from again.

But then if she’d had to endure constant escort from Ian’s men, he could well understand why she’d seek privacy to wash herself. He paused a moment, guilt overtaking him at the idea of intruding on her. He could wait until she finished, could he not?

Then he stalked forward again, angered that he was allowing this slip of a lass to rule his thoughts and actions. She was a manipulative deceiver and he would not be taken in by her sad eyes any longer.

When he topped the slight rise that looked over the stream, he was not prepared for the sight before him, even though he well knew what he might encounter.

Genevieve was rinsing soap from her hair, and Jesu, she looked like a goddess. Her right side was turned toward him, her face arched into the sun as she poured water over her head from a clay jug.

There was such contentment, a visible sigh puffing from her lips, and the sun shone over her features, illuminating every beautiful line of her face and body.

She was small and delicate, her features tiny but lush. A gently curved waist, plump buttocks, rounded hips, and her breasts … A hot flush traveled through Bowen’s body and his breath came in ragged spurts as he took in the sight before him.

She was stunning. So beautiful that his cods ached. His hands fair itched to touch her, to caress her sleek flesh and coax sounds of pleasure from her lips.

The moment she turned her face and he saw the ravages of all that had been done to her, he went cold, and guilt surged through his veins.

He was acting no better than Ian McHugh, staring at her with lust in his eyes and heart. Thinking that she was no better than a vessel for his pleasure. He should not be here, intruding on her privacy. There was no honor in making a woman feel unsafe.

Before he could retreat, she looked up, as if feeling his gaze on her body. Her eyes were startled, and yet she didn’t move. Perhaps she saw the foolishness of trying to hide now when she was in plain view.

Heat crawled over his cheeks. It brought him shame that he stood staring at her even once his presence was known. And yet he drank his fill of the vision before him. Aye, her face was scarred, but somehow it didn’t matter. The lass’s beauty could not be denied.

Or maybe it was her calm courage. The way she faced him, unwilling to flinch or play the shy maiden. She utterly fascinated him, and that was troublesome given his doubts about her.

’Twas true the lasses always paid him extra attention. His brothers teased him about his looks and his charm. He knew women found him comely and were eager to invite him to their beds.

He was used to the attention and could shake it off when there were more serious matters to attend to. But he did enjoy a warm, willing lass in his bed, and he’d never had to go without when he desired one.

But Genevieve didn’t look at him with lust or a teasing glint to her eyes. There were no coy mannerisms or come-hither looks.

She merely stared back at him, as if unwilling to be the first to blink in their silent standoff. There was false bravado in her expression, as if she’d steeled herself for whatever was to come. Almost as if she fully expected