Highlander Most Wanted (19 page)

His expression lightened when he cast eyes on Bowen, and he hurried to his brother’s bedside.

“Are you all right?” Teague demanded. “I came as fast as I could. We were nearly to Montgomery Keep when your men overtook me.”

“Aye, I am well. ’Tis a paltry wound. Not worthy of two days abed. I’ll be up on the morrow.”

Teague turned to Brodie. “What in God’s name happened?”

Brodie pulled up a chair, turned it backward, and then straddled the seat, resting his arms along the back.

“Patrick McHugh attacked, along with the McGrieves. We beat them back, but not before Bowen was injured. There was an attempt by a McHugh who’d remained behind and sworn allegiance to the Montgomerys. He snuck up on him and nearly stabbed him in the back as he did battle with another warrior.”

Teague quirked up an eyebrow. “And yet he didn’t.”

Brodie shook his head. “Nay. Genevieve felled him with an arrow.”

Teague did an instant double take. “Wait. Genevieve did
what
?”

“She put an arrow straight through the man’s forehead, and then she finished off the soldier Bowen had been doing battle with. The lass was fierce in battle. And she has good aim.”

Teague glanced at Bowen, his eyebrows drawn together. “What say you about this, Bowen? And what of the matter we discussed before I left?”

Bowen sent Teague a look that instantly silenced his younger brother.

“I’m more interested in the fate of Patrick McHugh. I saw him not in the heat of battle. Is he still lurking out there, hiding in some dark hole? And what of the other members of the McHugh clan. There was one traitor. Were there others?”

Brodie grimaced. “Aye. We found at least three. They were executed at dawn. They aided Patrick and the McGrieves, as well as their kin who rode with Patrick.”

“And Patrick?” Teague asked. “What of him?”

Brodie took in a deep breath. “This is rather interesting. Patrick is dead.”

“Dead? How? And who killed him? Find me the name of the soldier who ended Patrick’s life so he can be handsomely rewarded,” Bowen said.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Brodie hedged. “We found two arrows in Patrick McHugh. One in his leg and one right through his neck. Both arrows belong to Genevieve.”

Bowen and Teague gaped at Brodie and then looked at each other in astonishment.

“Are you certain it was the
lass
who killed him?” Teague asked skeptically.

“I saw her shoot the two men in defense of Bowen. It’s not a stretch for me to believe she felled Patrick as well. The lass is calm under pressure. And she’s lethal with that bow of hers.”

“What happened after I blacked out?” Bowen asked.

He wanted to know all, because he was haunted by strange sensations. He could swear that Genevieve was at his side, her hand touching his face. It was a soothing balm to his pain, and he hadn’t wanted her to leave. Only, when he’d awakened Geoffrey and Deaglan were present and there was no sign of Genevieve.

“Genevieve propped you up so you didn’t plant your face in the ground,” Brodie said with thinly veiled amusement. “Then she started barking orders like a seasoned commander. ’Twas she who sent riders to fetch Teague. She was concerned that we might suffer another attack, and with Bowen hurt and losses during battle we were considerably weakened.”

Bowen shook his head, utterly perplexed by the lass. He should be angry—nay, furious—with her for her part in Eveline’s abduction, and yet he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for administering any sort of punishment for her crime.

At least, not until he heard her reasoning.

“She guarded you as fiercely as a wolf bitch with her pups,” Brodie said, admiration clear in his voice. “She stitched your wound and then stood vigil by your bedside for two days. I came in to find her sleeping next to
you during the night. The lass had exhausted herself and had fallen asleep. I left before I could disturb her, but she remained in that chair by your bed for two days straight, barely eating or sleeping the entire time.”

Teague was frowning harder by the moment, and Bowen could see that he battled to remain silent. Bowen shot him a warning look before turning his attention back to Brodie.

“How many losses did we suffer?”

“Not many, but with a force as small as what we had after the departure of Aiden and Teague with the bulk of our soldiers, even a few is too many. I lost one of my men, and two Montgomery warriors were killed in battle.”

Bowen swore. “I should not have sent Teague away.”

Brodie shrugged. “ ’Twas necessary. We had need of supplies. Food. This clan has little, and if they are to survive, they need aid. Even with fewer men, we were superior on the battlefield. The men with Patrick and the McGrieves outnumbered us, but their losses are far greater than ours.”

Bowen looked to his brother. “Did you arrive at Montgomery Keep, and were you able to tell Graeme all before you received the summons?”

“Nay,” Teague replied. “We were not far from our borders. I sent half the men to give report to Graeme and to tell him of all that had occurred. I brought the remainder with me as reinforcements in case another attack is launched.”

“He was watching,” Bowen muttered. “He was hiding like a thief and awaiting his opportunity to attack in an effort to regain the keep.”

“He was a fool,” Brodie said bluntly. “And he paid for it with his life.”

“Think you the McGrieves will rally support and seek to take McHugh Keep by force?” Teague asked.

Bowen’s lips curled. “Only a fool would have attacked in the first place. So, aye, I count the McGrieves as fools, and I think they see an opportunity to add to their lands.”

“I would send word to my own father,” Brodie spoke up. “I would apprise him of the events so that he too may render aid to us. I will need to inform him of the man we lost, and he’ll likely send reinforcements along with food and goods.”

It was on the tip of Bowen’s tongue to refute that he needed anything from the Armstrongs, but he must remember now that the two clans were now allies, bonded by marriage.

Teague didn’t look any happier about it, but he too remained silent. He’d already humbled himself enough by asking that Brodie remain behind to help Bowen.

“I will stay on until support from Graeme arrives and we receive his directive. He’d not want me to leave you when you’re injured and in danger of another attack.”

Bowen nodded at his brother. Then he turned back to Brodie. “Your father, as well as Graeme, will likely send immediate word to the king. Such an upheaval will surely reach his ears, and he’ll not like the clans warring when he went to such lengths to end the fighting between the Montgomerys and Armstrongs. He’s determined to bring peace to the Highlands now that his truce with England has been reached.”

Brodie scowled. “As long as our king doesn’t interfere. His meddling has become a nuisance.”

It was obvious that Brodie still had not forgiven their king for ordering the marriage between Graeme and Eveline, even if the end result had achieved precisely what the king had wanted and the marriage had resulted in a happy union for both Graeme and Eveline.

Bowen couldn’t say he blamed him. He’d not liked the
edict any more than the Armstrong clan had when it had first been rendered.

Brodie rose from his chair, swinging his leg over before pushing the chair back against the wall.

“ ’Tis time I seek my bed. Rest easy and heal, Bowen. There is still much to accomplish.”

Bowen nodded at Brodie. Teague offered his good night, and then the two brothers were left alone.

As soon as the door closed, Teague turned to Bowen, his brow wrinkled in consternation.

“What of Genevieve? Did you not confront her? What was her part in Eveline’s abduction?”

“I have not had the opportunity to discuss the matter with her,” Bowen said in a low voice.

It was a lie, and he had no love of deceiving his brother. But he knew if he told Teague the truth, the lass would be condemned in Teague’s eyes, and Bowen wasn’t ready to have judgment rendered on Genevieve. Not yet. Not when he had yet to discover why she would do such a thing.

He was still mulling over all that Brodie had related. If Brodie was to be believed, Genevieve had saved Bowen’s life. And she’d killed Patrick McHugh—a feat neither he nor his warriors had managed in the mayhem.

She was a perplexing puzzle, and one he had every intention of deciphering. He wanted time to do so before he made a rash and hasty decision on her fate. If he confided what he knew to Teague, Graeme would most assuredly find out, as would Brodie and the rest of the Armstrongs. They’d want to seek vengeance, and the idea of more pain being heaped on Genevieve turned his stomach.

“I thought you were going to seek her out,” Teague said, still not satisfied with Bowen’s words.

“Aye, and I did. I found her bathing in the river. I was set to discuss the matter, but the call to arms was
sounded. I took Genevieve to the keep and ordered her to seek refuge within.”

“An order she clearly obeyed,” Teague said dryly.

“ ’Tis glad I am she didn’t. Mayhap I would not be alive if she had.”

Teague fell silent. Then he shifted in his chair, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Aye, if Brodie is to be believed, you indeed owe your life to the lass. If she killed Patrick McHugh, the Montgomerys and Armstrongs alike owe her a debt.”

Bowen could tell that Teague had no love for that admission. He was set against the lass, and Bowen couldn’t entirely blame him. She had betrayed Eveline. She’d endangered both Montgomerys and Armstrongs with her treachery.

Still, Bowen couldn’t help but think that he didn’t have the whole of the story, and, until he did, he refused to condemn her to the rest of his clan. Or Brodie’s.

Teague’s sharp gaze found Bowen. There was something akin to fear in his brother’s eyes, and Bowen’s brow furrowed as he stared back.

“How bad is it, really, Bowen?” Teague asked softly.

Perplexed, he answered, “What do you speak of?”

“Your wound. ’Tis the truth that my heart nearly stopped when we were chased down by the riders and told that the keep had been attacked and that you’d been injured. They knew nothing of your condition, and I feared to find you dead when I arrived.”

“ ’Tis naught but a scratch,” Bowen said.

Teague uttered a
hmmmph
. “A scratch that required extensive stitching, from what I can see. You scared me, Bowen. I’d not lose you. Especially not in a cause such as this. I’d rather lay waste to the entire clan and those who oppose us than have you struck down by a cowardly act.”

Bowen smiled. “Rest easy, brother. I’m harder to kill
than that. It would seem the lass was determined that I not go down that day. Though, even if I had suffered a dagger in my back, ’tis just as likely I would have survived.”

“I’d rather not chance it if ’tis all the same to you.”

Bowen nodded wearily. “Aye, neither would I. ’Tis the truth this paltry cut pains me greatly, but I’ll not say anything lest I have another potion poured down my throat. I’ve been insensible for two days from that poison they keep feeding me.”

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Teague said, rising to his feet. “On the morrow, I’ll meet with Brodie to determine if more needs be done to ensure the safety of the keep. If it’s not too much trouble, perhaps you could remain abed and out of trouble.”

Bowen grinned and raised his arm to clasp his brother’s. “I’m glad you returned, even if I have no liking for the circumstance that prompted it.”

Teague grasped Bowen’s arm in his firm grip. “Well, don’t be surprised if Graeme himself makes an appearance after he’s heard all there is to hear.”

Bowen groaned. “God help us.”

The next morning, Bowen slowly attempted to rise from his bed. Movement stretched the flesh sewn together, and he winced as he righted himself.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the wound and testing to see how tender it was.

While he certainly wouldn’t be back on the battlefield this day, he could at least take himself from the bed before he became a permanent part of it.

He staggered to the washbasin and cleaned his face. What he needed was a good bath. He still smelled of sweat and blood. There was a layer of grime on him that only a good scrubbing would take away.

Throwing a tunic on over his head, he searched for a clean pair of leggings and decided not to bother with boots. He’d retrieve them after he’d washed.

Geoffrey was alone in the hall, and he stood at attention the moment Bowen stuck his head out.

“Do you have need of aid, Laird?”

Bowen shook his head. “Nay, I’m going to bathe.”

Geoffrey fell into step behind him and the two went down the stairs to find the hall empty, not yet alive with the day’s activities.

Bowen continued out the back of the keep, deciding that he’d make use of Genevieve’s stream.

The chill would certainly wash away the remnants of sleep, and his head needed a good clearing.

The brisk morning air hit him as soon as he stepped outside. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the lavender-painted sky that heralded the coming sun.