Highlander Most Wanted: The Montgomerys and Armstrongs

by Maya Banks

  Lachlan pulled her close, his eyes tender as they gazed down at her.

  “ ’Tis hard to complain when you provided me a daughter to rival any in all of Scotland. What other lass could survive all she did and then seek vengeance on the man who wronged her? ’Tis the truth I could not be prouder of my lass. I only wish I could have been present to see her fell Patrick McHugh in battle. Surely it was a sight to behold.”

  Elizabeth smiled and rubbed her cheek against his broad chest.

  “Besides,” he said gruffly. “ ’Tis I who am fortunate, for you could have chosen any husband. Many vied for your hand, and yet you chose me. A savage with no manners, and you helped me build one of the strongest clans in the whole of Scotland. Men still gawk at your beauty after all these years, and many would give their life for one chance to share your bed.”

  She grinned mischievously up at him. “Now, that would be awkward. ’Tis a hard enough fit with you in the bed, much less another braw lad.”

  “Cheeky wench,” he said with no heat. “I love you, and you well know it, and I’d kill the man who ever dared touch the hem of your dress.”

  She gifted him with a kiss and then pulled back with a sigh. “I must tell Genevieve. She does not know.”

  Lachlan’s expression sobered. “Do not let her think this changes how we feel. I have no words to describe the joy in my heart at having my daughter back where she belongs. There is nothing she could do that would ever make me regret that.”

  “You’re a good man, Lachlan McInnis,” Elizabeth whispered as she kissed him again. “I’ll break the news to Genevieve in the morning. Right now, I wish you to take me to bed.”

  Lachlan’s eyes gleamed and his hold became possessive.

  “Bossy lass. You know I can deny you nothing.”

  When Genevieve woke the next morning, the first thing she did was make a run for the chamber pot and heaved the remaining contents of her stomach. For several long minutes, she leaned over, her body convulsing as she sought to gain control.

  Cool hands rubbed up and down her back and then pulled her hair away from her face, holding it at her nape as she shuddered with the last of her illness.

  “I was afraid you’d be sick this morning,” her mother said when Genevieve finally lifted her head and staggered back toward the bed.

  Her mother tucked her into bed and pulled the covers up around her, all the while rubbing her back in a soothing motion.

  “It must have been something I ate,” Genevieve croaked.

  Her mother’s smile was gentle, and her hand slid to her forehead as she smoothed the hair from her face.

  “Nay, lass, ’tis not something you ate.”

  Genevieve frowned. “Then what’s wrong with me?”

  “You’re carrying a bairn,” her mother said gently.

  Genevieve’s jaw went slack. Her hand covered the flatness of her belly as she stared at her mother in denial. But her mother nodded in confirmation.

  Joy exploded in Genevieve’s soul until she nearly burst with it. She wanted to cry. She wanted to laugh and shout her happiness to the world, but her mother would think she’d gone mad. And so she lay there, savoring the knowledge that she carried Bowen’s child. A tiny part of him that she’d always have.

  Her mother grasped her hand and held tightly to it.

  “Your father and I both want you to know that we fully support you and your bairn. You’ll always have a place to live. We love you with all our hearts. We know this is difficult for you. To bear the child of a man who so abused you is unthinkable, but we’ll help you in any way we can, and we’ll never forsake you, Genevieve.”

  Genevieve stared dumbfounded at her mother, as it dawned on her what she was saying.

  She leaned forward and put a hand out to staunch the flow of words from her mother.

  “Mama, ’tis not Ian’s child I carry,” she said softly.

  Confusion crowded her mother’s gaze. “You don’t mean … Genevieve, tell me it wasn’t someone he …”

  She broke off, too upset to continue, and Genevieve couldn’t allow her to think the worst.

  “I’m carrying Bowen’s bairn, Mama. ’Tis his child, not Ian’s.”

  Lady McInnis’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed. Then her lips thinned and she gazed sharply at Genevieve.

  “I knew there was something between the two of you. I sensed it when we were at Montgomery Keep. The man looked positively distraught when you left.”

  “He loves me,” Genevieve said softly. “He saved me. He let me go because he thought it would make me happy.”

  Her mother stared at her a long moment and then drew her legs onto the bed so she sat more comfortably next to Genevieve.

  “I’m hearing a lot about what he feels and what he’s done. But tell me, Genevieve, do you love him?”

  “With all my heart,” she said achingly.

  Her mother sighed. “You’ve not been happy here, have you?”

  Genevieve shook her head. “Nay. ’Tis not so! I wouldn’t have traded this time with you and Papa for anything. Bowen was right. He risked my ire by contacting you. He did it for me, even though it meant letting me go. And he was right. I needed you—both of you—in order to be whole again.”

  Her mother’s face crinkled in confusion. “He risked your ire? I do not understand.”

  Genevieve closed her eyes as shame crawled up her spine. “I did not want you to know that I was alive.”

  Her mother gasped and her eyes blazed with hurt. “Genevieve! Why ever not? Do you even know the hell we’ve endured thinking you dead all this time?”

  “ ’Twas selfish of me,” Genevieve said quietly. “I was so focused on my shame, and I feared the disgrace I would bring to our name. I never wanted you to know what all I endured. I would have spared you that if at all possible.”

  “Oh, dearling,” her mother said, her voice choked with tears. “Don’t you know that nothing you could ever do would make us ashamed of you? We love you. You are the light of our lives—especially your father’s. The sun rises and sets at your feet. When you were born, I feared he would be angry because I hadn’t given him a son. But he was so taken with you ’twas obvious to anyone with eyes that he cared not if you were a lass. And then, when it became evident that I could bear no more children, I worried that he would be angry. And do you know what he said to me?”

  Genevieve slowly shook her head.

  Her mother smiled through her tears. “He told me that I’d given him the fiercest, smartest, most beautiful lass in all of Scotland, and what could he possibly want with a son when he had a lass as clever as you?”

  Genevieve burst into tears and clung to her mother.

  “I’m sorry, Mama. I was so afraid and ashamed. I didn’t even feel like a person while Ian kept me prisoner. It was not until Bowen saved me and showed me how it could be between a man and a woman that I began to live again. He contacted you because he knew I would never be happy or whole without you. And he gave me up because he said he’d rather I be happy and with the people I loved than to remain with him and never truly heal.”

  “It would seem I owe this young man a great deal,” her mother said. “I’m just glad one of you has sense!”

  “Mama!”

  “Well, ’tis true. It horrifies me to think that you would have gone on and never come home to us.”

  “I would have,” Genevieve cried. “It would have taken me time, but I would have come home, Mama. I missed you and Papa so. I would not have been able to live long without you.”

  Her mother hugged her again and stroked her hair. “What is it that you want to do, Genevieve? Bowen deserves to know of his child. We cannot keep it from him.”

  Genevieve pulled back, her expression firm. “Nay, I’d never seek to do so. I—I love him, Mama. I love him so much, and I miss him every single day. I had to come home. I had to do this so I could be happy and whole. But I’ll never be completely whole without him. He’ll always hold a piece o
f my heart.”

  Her mother smiled that gentle, motherly smile that never failed to warm Genevieve’s heart and soothe all her hurts.

  “It would seem that we have another journey to make. Only this time the whole of our army will accompany you on the way to your betrothed. We’ll not chance your being set upon as you were before.”

  “What if he does not want to marry me?” Genevieve asked hesitantly.

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “Lass, the way that lad was looking at you when we departed, it was a wonder he didn’t grab you from the cart and haul you into the keep over his shoulder. I’d wager he was sorely tempted! If he loves you as you say, and if he did all this for you even knowing he’d lose you, then he’s a man above many. He’ll likely have you before a priest before you can blink. Now, the hard part is going to be convincing your father to let his baby go after he’s only had her back a month.”

  Genevieve’s face fell. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”

  Her mother smiled and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll visit often, and I’ll come for the birth of your child. As will your father, I’m certain. He’ll not tolerate being left behind when his grandchild is being born. The Montgomerys will just have to become used to the presence of the McInnis clan.”

  Hope surged through Genevieve’s veins and flooded her heart. A way for her to have her heart’s desire and her family. ’Twas a dream come true.

  “I’m afraid to hope,” she admitted, her voice laced with fear.

  “Don’t you worry, lass,” her mother chided. “I’ve never failed in a task I set my mind to. If I were you, I’d be packing my belongings for the return trip to Montgomery Keep. I wager I’ll have your father talked around in less than a day.”

  CHAPTER 47

  “Bowen, the McInnises approach!”

  Bowen stopped in mid-swing and nearly lost his arm when the warrior with whom he was sparring nearly didn’t halt his advance. The warrior blanched and hastily backed away, horrified at what he’d almost done. But Bowen wasn’t paying him the least bit of attention.

  He whirled to see Rorie standing a few paces away, her eyes dancing with glee. The lass was nearly beside herself.

  “Do not jest with me,” he warned.

  “ ’Tis not a jest! The word was just delivered to Graeme. He comes to tell you himself, but I overheard and ran to tell you.”

  He pushed down his excitement. It might be nothing more than Genevieve’s father paying a visit. But why? He couldn’t allow himself to think that he would see Genevieve, because the disappointment would be crushing.

  He’d only half existed in the time she had been gone from Montgomery Keep. The weeks had seemed like years, and he threw himself into training. His men avoided him. No one volunteered to spar with him, and his family despaired of him.

  He was as a wounded wild animal seeking only to be left alone to nurse his injuries. He’d noticed the looks cast his way by Graeme and even Rorie. Eveline’s gaze was filled with sympathy, but even she stayed out of his path.

  He knew he was hard to live with and not fit company for anyone, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t miserable.

  He sheathed his sword and dismissed the warrior, who looked only too happy to take his leave. Then he turned to Rorie.

  “Tell me all.”

  Rorie wiggled in her excitement, a broad smile on her face. “A messenger arrived just a few minutes past, bearing word that the McInnises will arrive within the hour. They’re coming, Bowen!”

  “ ’Tis possible Genevieve did not accompany them,” Bowen said softly.

  Rorie snorted. “What purpose would they have in coming here if Genevieve were not with them?”

  Bowen remained silent, refusing to give voice to his hopes. Without a word, he strode toward the guard tower and climbed the steps to the top so he could have a bird’s-eye view of their approach.

  A moment later, Graeme arrived to stand beside him.

  “I see Rorie found you first,” he said dryly.

  “She told me the McInnises approach. Have you any other information?”

  Graeme shook his head. “The missive was short. They told of their arrival and requested our hospitality.”

  Bowen blew out his breath in frustration. What if she hadn’t accompanied them? And why had they traveled to Montgomery Keep?

  The questions burned in his mind, and he stood there, silent and brooding, as he waited for the first sign of their approach.

  He stood there an hour, his gaze locked to the horizon. And then the first rider appeared, bearing the McInnis banner. His pulse kicked up and his breathing became more rapid. He leaned forward over the tower, straining to see each rider as they gradually came into sight.

  His hands curled around the stone ledge and his jaw was locked. He was so tense that his muscles protested, but his entire being was on alert for that first sign of Genevieve.

  “There is no litter,” Graeme observed, as more McInnis warriors poured over the hillside.

  Bowen’s heart sank. He sagged, his body going slack as grief filled his heart all over again. He took a step back, prepared to descend the tower and retreat into the keep. Graeme could keep up the social niceties and discern the purpose of the visit.

  As he started to turn away, one rider broke from the pack. The horse galloped forward at a faster clip than the others, and it was then he saw the long brown hair streaming behind her like a beacon.

  His breath caught and he swayed and gripped the ledge to steady himself. His legs had gone so weak that he wasn’t sure they would hold him up.

  Genevieve.

  Beside him Graeme grinned and slapped him on the back.

  “What are you waiting for? Go and greet your lass.”

  Bowen bolted from the tower, nearly tripping in his haste to descend the stairs. He hit the courtyard at a dead run and bolted, racing across the rolling terrain as Genevieve bore down on him on horseback.

  She pulled up a short distance away and slid from her saddle with a haste that nearly gave Bowen an attack of the heart. Her feet hit the ground, and then she was running just as swiftly as he did. Running to him, her smile so big it outshone the sun.

  He held out his arms, and she hit him full force right in the chest. He lifted her, hugging her so close that he was sure he crushed her. He spun her round and round as he buried his face in her hair, absorbing the feel of having her in his arms again.

  “Ah lass, I missed you so,” he breathed.

  “I missed you as well, Bowen. So very much.”

  He pulled her back so he could look upon her face. As she slid down his body and planted her feet back on the ground, he cupped her face and stroked her skin. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  “If this is a dream, I never want to wake up,” he said hoarsely.

  She smiled. “ ’Tis no dream. I am here.”

  Unable to contain himself any longer, and uncaring that her father and hundreds of McInnis warriors now surrounded them, he fused his lips to hers.

  He near devoured her mouth, so hungry for her that he ached. Her taste, her scent—just the feel of her, soft and willing in his arms. It was more than he could take in.

  “Well, I suppose that answers one question,” Lachlan McInnis said dryly.

  Bowen reluctantly tore himself away from Genevieve and looked up to see Laird McInnis looming over them, still astride his horse.

  Genevieve’s cheeks were pink, but her eyes shone with happiness. Bowen didn’t even dare consider the reason she was here.

  “I must speak with you, Bowen,” Genevieve whispered as she threaded her hand through his. “In private.”

  He squeezed her hand and then focused his attention temporarily on her father.

  “I bid you welcome to Montgomery Keep,” he said formally. “If you ride within the courtyard, your horses will be cared for and you’ll be offered refreshment in the great hall.”

  Amusement crinkled the older man’s eyes, and he shook his head. Then
he looked at his daughter.

  “Now, don’t be long, lass. I have much to discuss with the lad.”

  “I won’t, Papa,” she said, ducking her head shyly.

  Bowen waited until the procession of McInnis warriors had filed past toward the keep, and then he turned back to Genevieve, crushing her in his embrace just so he would know she was real, standing here in front of him.

  He swept her into his arms and carried her back toward the keep.

  “You do not have to carry me, Bowen,” she teased.

  “Lass, ’tis not likely I’ll let you go anytime soon, so there’s no sense arguing.”

  She smiled and relaxed into his hold, laying her head on his shoulder.

  He bore her around the side of the keep and toward the river, where they’d once bid their farewells. When he was a distance from the keep, he lowered himself to the ground, still holding her tightly against him.

  “I cannot believe you are here,” he said in wonder. “Why are you here?”

  ’Twas a question he dreaded asking, for he wasn’t certain he wanted to know the answer. But he hoped. God in heaven he hoped, with all his heart, that he knew her answer.

  She regarded him solemnly, her gaze earnest. “I have something to tell you, Bowen. ’Tis of great import.”

  “Speak, lass. Whatever it is, it will make no difference in my feelings for you.”

  Her eyes sparkled with sudden light. “I certainly hope ’tis not true!”

  He cocked his head to the side, curious as to her mood. She seemed so … different. Joyous and yet shy. There was a glow about her that radiated to everyone around her. She looked happy. And was that not what he wanted for her above all else?

  She touched his face, and he couldn’t help himself. He slid his hand over hers, trapping it against his jaw so her hand would linger there.

  “I’m carrying your babe,” she said softly.

  At first he didn’t think he’d heard her right. Then he worried that ’twas not welcome news. He studied her intently, but all he saw was deep contentment and a peace in her eyes he hadn’t seen in all the time he’d known her.