Highlander Most Wanted Page 0,66
he said evenly.
“Think on your priorities between now and then,” Teague said. “ ’Tis not an easy path you’ve chosen in championing the lass.”
“Nothing good is ever easy. Or worth it.”
Brodie nodded his agreement. “ ’Tis true, that.”
Teague rested a hand on Bowen’s shoulder. “You have my support, Bowen. No matter what. That extends to the lass as well. Even though I know not the whole of it.”
Bowen extended his arm to overlap Teague’s, clasping his shoulder in a like gesture. He stared into his brother’s eyes, grateful that Teague had chosen not to condemn him for standing with Genevieve.
“You have my thanks, Teague. You and Brodie both.”
Brodie quirked a lip and grinned his amusement. “Did you ever imagine yourself saying such to an Armstrong? Did it leave a bad taste in your mouth?”
Bowen smiled. “I’ll admit to being reminded of the meals I’ve suffered through of late.”
Teague and Brodie laughed, then retreated down the hall with promises to send food up for Bowen and Genevieve as soon as the meat was prepared.
Bowen turned to go inside his chamber, but was stopped by Taliesan’s soft call. Leaving the door open, he waited for the lass to approach and then took the soft bundle of clothing from her.
“My thanks, Taliesan. You are a good friend to Genevieve. I’ll make sure she knows of your kindness.”
Taliesan’s cheeks colored and she dipped a curtsy. “Please tell Genevieve that if she has need of me I am but a few doors away.”
Bowen nodded and then withdrew into the chamber, closing the door behind him.
Genevieve was sitting up in bed, the bed linens pulled to just underneath her chin. Blood had dried at the corner of her mouth and along her jawline, and her bottom lip was swollen.
“Taliesan brought you clothing,” Bowen said as he approached the bed. “Let me build up the fire and then you can dress in front of the hearth. I’ll not look. I promise.”
She smiled faintly. “ ’Tis too late for modesty, I think. You’ve seen all.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, her clothing on his lap. “ ’Tis not too late for respect,” he said in a serious tone. “And ’tis respect that I give by offering you privacy in which to dress and make yourself more comfortable.”
Damn if the lass’s eyes didn’t tear up again. It was like a fist to his gut, and suddenly it was hard for him to breathe.
He touched her cheek as if to ward off the tears.
“You’ve not had much to smile about, lass, but I plan to remedy that. I would give anything to make you happy again.”
“You are a good man, Bowen Montgomery,” she said hoarsely. “I was not wrong about you.”
He took the clothing from his lap and laid it next to Genevieve on the bed. “Let me go add logs to the fire so you’ll be warm. Your flesh is cold to the touch. When I am done, you can dress by the hearth.”
He stood and strode toward the bin where the pieces of wood were stacked. When he glanced back at Genevieve, she presented a sight that affected him deeply.
Hair tousled. Vulnerability reflected in her eyes. Covers drawn up to her chin and knees hunched against her chest. But the look on her face as she stared back at him … It was a look filled with wonder. Gratitude. Of discovery. As if she were seeing him in a whole new light.
It was a look that men coveted from women. A look that said he was her champion and that there was no other man in the world for her.
He reprimanded himself for letting his thoughts grow so fanciful. Aye, Genevieve may be grateful, but it didn’t mean she looked at him in any other way than that of gratitude. It was a look she would give to any man who’d defended her.
He busied himself building the flames, so that it became uncomfortably warm in the vicinity of the hearth. But he knew that she was chilled, that the traumatic event had given her the kind of bone-deep cold that was difficult to recover from. He’d see to her comfort even at the expense of his own.
When he was satisfied with his effort, he turned back to Genevieve and gently pried the linens from her tightly balled fists.
“Go and warm yourself by the fire, lass,” he said in a gentle voice. “I’ll stand by the door with my back turned, or, if you prefer, I’ll wait