Highlander Most Wanted Page 0,57
with her gaze. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, and he was struck by the picture she presented, perched on the boulder, long damp hair streaming down her body. A mermaid. She reminded him of the mythical being from the sea.
“This water is frigid. What possessed you to bathe so early in the morning when ’tis so cold?”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t think anyone would be about so early.”
Her avoidance of the others made sense. He couldn’t fault her for wanting the one thing she’d been denied in the past year. Privacy and a moment’s peace. And yet he’d felt no guilt over intruding on that privacy. Indeed, his blood had quickened the moment he realized that she was in the stream and it presented the perfect opportunity to speak to her away from his kin or the Armstrongs.
“It would appear that I am indebted to you,” Bowen said.
She cocked her head to the side, her expression one of puzzlement. “For what, Laird?”
“What indeed,” he said with a snort. “It would seem you were busy while I was in battle. Your arrows were found in four different men. One of them being Patrick McHugh.”
She whitened as if all the blood had been leeched from her face. Her fingers gripped the ends of the blanket and she made herself even smaller, if possible.
“ ’Twas a brave thing you did,” Bowen continued. “One might wonder why you bothered. You put yourself at great risk by not seeking refuge, as you were told to do.”
The shock of the cold was beginning to wear off. He looked to see that the bar of soap he’d brought with him was still lying on the bank with his clothing.
He didn’t want to shock the lass by striding out of the water to fetch it.
“Will you toss me the soap?” he asked.
Genevieve glanced down and frowned, then looked back up at him. Careful to keep the blanket securely wrapped around her, she hoisted herself off the rock and then bent to fetch the soap. She underhanded it to him, and he caught it in the air.
As he began to cleanse himself, he found her gaze again.
“So why did you do it?”
Her shoulders heaved as she expelled a sigh. “Because I hated Patrick McHugh as much as I hated his spawn of a son. ’Twas my right to kill him. I was denied the pleasure of killing Ian, but ’tis glad I am all the same that he met his end.”
Bowen paused to rinse the soap from his arms. She was calm and unemotional about death and killing, something most lasses never had occasion to discuss, much less take part in.
“And why did you choose to intervene in my battle?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that a reprimand?”
He laughed at the instant fire in her eyes. The lass still had spirit.
“Nay. I can hardly reprimand you when I stand here whole and hearty instead of lying in a shallow, cold grave, now, can I?”
“It was the right thing to do,” she muttered. “ ’Twas a cowardly act to attack from behind.”
“You have my thanks, and that of my clan.”
She swallowed and her lips trembled as she spoke her next words. “We cannot pretend that our last conversation here in this same place did not happen.”
Bowen sighed. “Nay, we can’t.”
Her chin lifted, and again he saw that unflagging pride. And determination not to be beaten down.
“Tell me my fate, Laird. ’Tis not comforting not to know.”
Bowen sank into the water and tilted his head back to wet his hair. For a moment, he lost himself in the task of bathing, because the simple truth was he hadn’t decided the matter of her fate. He had no idea what to say to her. Not yet.
As he righted himself, he saw Genevieve turn and abruptly stand up. She began walking toward the keep, her pace determined, and he called out for her to stop.
She froze, still facing away, and then slowly turned, her eyes ablaze. “I’ll not play this game,” she said fiercely. “I’ll not be taunted. I’ll not have my fate dangled over my head like an axe about to drop. If you had any decency, you would not make me suffer so.”
There was so much hurt in her voice that it made him flinch. And her eyes. Pools of green so sorrowful he could drown in them. Ah, but he was making a muck of this.
“Don’t go, lass. ’Tis the truth I haven’t spoken of your