“Where the devil have you been?” Edward demanded. “What were you doing with my daughter while everyone else was busy trying to keep the entire village from going up in flame? Sneaking off together.”
Eoin pushed Cairstine behind him as he stepped forward. “How dare you assume such aboot your daughter? She just saved six children’s lives and nearly lost her own in the process. If anyone should be ashamed, it’s you.” Eoin took a menacing step toward Edward, and Bram shifted to protect his laird, but Eoin shot him a look of disgust. He spoke so only the other two men could hear. “Speak to her or aboot her like that again, and I won’t care whose father you are.”
Eoin spun around and guided Cairstine toward her mother and sister, the women hugging as Davina stroked Cairstine’s hair. Eoin stood out of the way as mother and daughters continued to embrace. He felt out of place, more like an intruder spying on a private moment. He turned away, but Cairstine stepped away and came to take his hand. She entwined her fingers through his as she recounted the rescue to Davina and Fenella. It was nearly dark by the time they returned to Freuchie, having spent the rest of the day helping the injured, burying the dead, and building temporary shelters for the survivors.
Eoin and Cairstine discovered the children’s parents were alive. They’d all run out of their home when the fires began, but the three youngest ran back in to find their rag dolls their mother made them. The older girl had been holding the babe and couldn’t put him down, so she chased her siblings into the house just as it caught fire. The other child followed his siblings, not wanting to be alone. Then they’d become trapped. The mother and father wept with relief, and Cairstine couldn’t help the pang of jealousy as she watched the father cling to his children while remembering the indifference Edward had shown her. That indifference had quickly morphed into scorn, and that hurt even more.
Cairstine rode back to Freuchie, seated before Eoin on Gun Eagal.She was too tired to manage Twinkle while they galloped. She nestled against Eoin as her eyes dropped closed. He held the reins in one hand while his other arm secured her against his body. His heat comforted her in a way even her mother’s embrace hadn’t. Servants scrambled to lay out food and prepare baths when the filthy and exhausted party arrived home. Cairstine shook her head when she was offered food, but Eoin’s worried expression made her relent. She nibbled, then dragged herself to her chamber, where a maid awaited to help with her bath. She’d never been more relieved to have someone assist her than she was that night. Her arms felt too heavy to lift once she eased into the bath. Her eyes kept drifting shut, and her maid had to rouse her more than once until she could slip into bed. She was asleep before the maid left; the bathtub was forgotten until the next morning.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cairstine slept most of the next day. Her head and body ached from the physical exertion of the day before, and her heart ached for all that the villagers had lost. She was too weary to climb out of bed except for when it was necessary. Her mother visited and reported that Fenella was much the same. Davina showed signs of the toll the day before had taken on her, but she’d experienced such disasters many times over the years since she became Lady Grant. She reassured Cairstine that she should remain in bed as long as she needed. To her relief, Cairstine drifted back to sleep.
Eoin, along with a score and half of men, returned to the village the day after the fire. He worked alongside the Grants as they built crofts for the survivors, of which there were few. Most of the elderly had perished, unable to escape their homes in time. Several of the men fighting the fires suffered mortal wounds from the flames that they tried to subdue before the bucket lines formed. Eoin’s stomach soured as the stench of death lingered everywhere. He’d witnessed such devastation after fires in villages on Gordon land, and he was always reminded how much worse it was than even the most terrible battles he’d been in. Fires didn’t spare women and children, and the innocent lives lost seemed such a waste. By sunset, the Grants were confident that the surviving villages had enough food and shelter to last them until they could send more to help them before the fall harvest.
Eoin returned to the keep, appreciative when Davina whispered Cairstine was well but still abed. He’d thought about her incessantly all day, worrying about how she fared. It relieved him to know she was sleeping off the exhaustion he fought against as the evening moved into night, and he finally retired.
* * *
Soft knocking woke Eoin in the middle of the night. He was disoriented as he looked around the chamber, the banked fire showing him he wasn’t in his bed at Huntly. His memory surged back as he recalled greeting Cairstine in the bailey and the fire in the village. He hurried to wrap his plaid around his waist, foregoing his leine. He tucked in the length of wool as he opened the door a crack. It shocked him to see Cairstine standing on the other side in just her chemise and a plaid wrapped around her shoulder, her bare toes peeking out beneath the hem.
“Will you let me in?” She whispered as she glanced back at the stairs. Davina had given Eoin a chamber on the third floor, one above the laird’s family’s chambers. He stepped aside as she eased into the chamber.
“Cairrie, what are you doing here?”
“I slept all day and missed you coming and going. I woke and realized it was the middle of the night, and I hadn’t seen you. I knew I wouldn’t fall back to sleep until I was certain you were well.” Cairstine looked down at her toes, which she wiggled. “I was worried aboot you.”
Eoin tucked his forefinger beneath her chin and nudged it up. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then her lips. “Sweet lass,” he murmured.
“I feel guilty that I didn’t stay awake on the way back, and I didn’t inquire aboot any injuries you have. You would’ve gotten them because you chased me.”
“Don’t feel guilty, Cairrie,” Eoin murmured. “I don’t love your willingness to rush into danger, but I admire your courage. You did what most people couldn’t. And because of that, you saved those children.”
“And you saved me,” Cairstine gazed at Eoin.
“Always,” Eoin murmured as he lowered his mouth to hers. It began as a slow kiss, but as was always their case, it exploded into passion. Eoin lifted Cairstine and carried her to the bed. “I won’t do aught you don’t want. I won’t touch you anywhere except for where you tell me I may.”
Cairstine nodded, trusting Eoin without reservation as she settled back on the pillow, and he laid on his side. He cupped her jaw as she turned her head to him. His hand didn’t move, but Cairstine grew restless, her breasts heavy and achy. Eoin supported his weight on one arm, so Cairstine drew the hand away from her face, trailing it down her chest until Eoin palmed her breast. She sighed as he kneaded the mound and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tunneling into his hair. Eoin skimmed his hand down her ribs until he reached her hip. He rested his hand there a moment before pulling her body toward his. He shifted so his upper body hovered over hers.
“What do you want, Cairrie?” Eoin’s voice was a seductive purr.
“I don’t know,” she answered guilelessly. “I don’t understand the way my body reacts to you. I don’t know what to say or do.”
“Wheest, little one. I’ll show you. Tell me to stop if you don’t like it.”
“I trust you, Eo.” Cairstine realized she meant what she said. She trusted Eoin not only to protect her and be her friend, but she trusted him never to take advantage of her, to always respect her limits, and to never make her feel guilty for what she wanted and what she couldn’t do.
Eoin ran his hand over her thigh, her chemise blocking him from the satiny skin he remembered lay beneath the linen. When she didn’t balk, he inched the shift high enough for him to tickle the back of her knee. She giggled, but he felt her relax. She smiled at him, appreciation in her eyes. He slipped his hand higher until he could dip his fingers between her thighs just beneath her sheath. He rolled her further toward him and draped her leg over his, waiting for her to object, but she nodded.
“Do you want me to touch you? Like I did at the before?”
“Yes,” Cairstine sighed.
Eoin eased his fingers along her slit, the dew already collecting on her heated nether lips. As she squirmed to get closer, Eoin pressed her onto her back, her legs falling open. She stilled when his fingertip dipped inside her entrance, and Eoin watched her, waiting for her to call a halt to their tryst. But she nodded, inching the chemise to her waist, offering him a view of her mons. Eoin was certain he’d seen nothing as enticing as the brunette thatch of hair at the juncture of her thighs. His thumb grazed her pearl, and her hips lifted to meet his hand, unbidden by her mind.
Eoin understood better than Cairstine how her body reacted to her need. His movements were unhurried, ensuring she could anticipate his next move. Cairstine’s hands explored the bare expanse of his back and chest, her fingers spread as she ran them through the light blond hair that covered his chest. She could tell he spent an impressive amount of time outside without his leine on; the hairs were so blond she nearly couldn’t see them.
Eoin shifted to kneel between her legs, but he kept his body away from hers. He expected the moment of panic that flashed across Cairstine’s face, but when he did nothing to bring their bodies closer, she relaxed. His hands rested on her hips before sliding to her waist where he stilled, letting her grow accustomed to his hands beneath her chemise, where she could no longer see them. She nodded, and the heat from his palms lit a blaze along her ribs until he cupped both breasts in his bare hands. Her head fell back as she arched, pressing into his hands, encouraging him to increase the pressure as he kneaded her breasts.
