Highlander Most Wanted Page 0,47
there are none of us left and we are but spoils of war, scattered to the winds, our name naught but a black memory carried to generations after us.”
“You take far too much on your shoulders, Taliesan,” Genevieve said gently. “You are wise for one so young, and you think deeper on matters than your kinsmen. You can only take responsibility for your own actions and act with honor in every encounter.”
“I know you are right. ’Tis not me who is wise, Genevieve, but you.”
“If I was wise, I would have found a way to kill Ian McHugh long ago and save us all the misery of his actions,” Genevieve said, her voice so cold it sent a shiver down her own spine.
And ’twas true enough. Killing Ian would surely have meant her own death sentence, and yet that would have been preferable to the life she’d endured. But she’d stubbornly clung to her existence, refusing to be beaten down. Her damnable pride would not allow her to concede defeat to Ian or any other McHugh, most especially not Patrick McHugh. She would not have given him the satisfaction of ordering her death. And that was supposing that she would have even been killed. Just as easily she could have been consigned a fate as bad as the one Ian had heaped upon her. Given to the McHugh men to play the unwilling whore. Passed from one to the other and perhaps given as bounty to another clan.
Nay, as long as she had hope of one day regaining control over her destiny, she had silently endured, knowing that one day … one day she would be in a position to seek justice. That time had come the day before, when Patrick had been in her sights and she’d let the arrow fly.
“How is the clan taking the news of Patrick’s death? Is it known who did the killing?”
Genevieve held her breath, feeling guilty over deceiving Taliesan. But if it was known that she had killed Patrick, the clan would only harbor more animosity toward her. She cared not if anyone ever discovered the truth.
“The clan is divided. There are those who are angry about Patrick’s betrayal, and they believe the Montgomerys and Armstrongs acted accordingly. He was buried this morn, but the Montgomery and Armstrong men bore his body beyond our borders, not affording him the honor of being laid to rest on McHugh land. There are others who, while confused and bitter about Patrick’s defection, still believe he should have been given the honor of being buried on his lands.”
That Taliesan hadn’t given voice to the fact that Genevieve had been the one who’d felled Patrick bolstered Genevieve’s spirits. It was one less thing the clan would blame her for—not that they needed other reasons.
Genevieve reached over to squeeze Taliesan’s hand. “I go to see how the laird fares. His injuries required stitching, and ’twas I who set needle to his flesh. ’Tis God’s truth my hand has never shaken as much as it did last night. I must now watch for signs of fever and pray that he recovers quickly.”
“If you have need of anything, summon me at once,” Taliesan said, her voice sincere. “I will be happy to give you aid.”
“Thank you, Taliesan. I never imagined finding a true friend among so many hostile faces, but ’tis glad I am to have you.”
Taliesan smiled, her entire face lighting up so sweetly that it made Genevieve instantly warm all the way through. She stood, pushing herself up awkwardly from the bed, and smoothed her skirts.
“You must be starved. I will send up food for you to the laird’s chamber so that you may eat while you watch over his recovery.”
Genevieve’s stomach cramped, and she realized that it had been a long while since she’d partaken of any food. She smiled gratefully up at Taliesan.
“My thanks. If you would, have water warmed and brought up in a basin so that I may wash the laird’s wounds and see to the dressings.”
“I’ll do it at once.”
Taliesan started toward the door, but then she hesitated and turned, her fingers gripping the edge.
“Things will be better now, Genevieve. You’ll see. No longer will you be forced to suffer such injustice. Bowen Montgomery seems a good and just man. He’ll do what is right.”
Genevieve nodded faintly, her stomach knotting not from hunger but from the knowledge that when the laird awakened he would demand an accounting from her. And what she told him