* * *
“Why does he call you Cairrie?” Fenella asked as she settled on her stool, her embroidery needle and thread in hand as she continued to sew her wedding gown. They had set no date for her wedding, but Fenella continued to work on her gown, hoping Edward would agree to her marrying Kennon sooner rather than later.
Cairstine shrugged, but she couldn’t hide her smile. “I don’t know. He’s called me that since we left Stirling, and it’s just become a habit, I suppose.”
“Like how you call him Eo?” Fenella pressed. Cairstine nodded, but Fenella wasn’t through. “Did you notice you both did that this morn at the table?”
Cairstine’s head jerked up. She hadn’t realized that they’d used their pet names for one another in public. Her cheeks radiated heat, only made worse when her mother quietly chuckled from where she sat weaving near the window. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“I feared Fingal would expire at the table. His face was a shade of red it hasn’t been since we were children and you knocked him down in front of his friends.”
“Fingal only cares that Eoin is here because he fears he won’t marry the laird’s daughter,” Cairstine huffed. “It has naught to do with me and everything to do with him wanting to insure his inheritance.”
“Aye, and since Eoin isn’t a laird or a laird’s heir, Fingal feels threatened,” Fenella surmised.
“Eoin will never leave Gordon land or Ewan’s side. They’re inseparable and always will be. Eoin is Ewan’s second. It would devastate them both if he moved away,” Cairstine spoke as she threaded her needle, preparing to embroider the cuff of a sleeve to Fenella’s gown. She’d completed the other one before Eoin arrived.
“Does that mean you’re ready to move to Huntly?” Davina asked casually.
Cairstine bit the inside of her cheek as she nodded. She was prepared to leave Freuchie, but she’d never given serious thought to living at Huntly. It would never happen since their betrothal would end, and he would return home while she ended up somewhere else. She kept her eyes down as though she focused on her stitching, and Fenella moved the conversation in a different direction, but Cairstine sensed her mother watched her throughout the morning. Cairstine feared Davina would deduce Eoin’s attention was a ruse. Even worse, she might realize that Cairstine was falling in love with a manmon she would never marry.
When it was nearly time for the noon meal, Cairstine sat up, stretching her aching back. She hurried to put her sewing away, so she could make her way to the kitchens. She’d decided to surprise Eoin and attempt to avoid more uncomfortable conversations at the table.
* * *
Eoin swung the dulled sword as he used his targe to block Fingal’s attack. He’d begun his morning sparring with Bram, who attested to Eoin’s prowess, having seen Eoin train at Stirling Castle. He moved on to Edward as other warriors elbowed and teased him about earning Cairstine’s hand if he survived. Edward’s reputation preceded him, and he proved to Eoin that it was well earned. The man was fiercely competitive, but he was both nimble and astute. Edward studied Eoin and predicted his next strike, blocking it and pushing Eoin back each time. Eoin hadn’t wanted to be on the offensive. Attacking Cairstine’s father, even if only in simulation, felt wrong. But Edward left him little choice when he refused to make the first move. The Grant warriors goaded Eoin, Fingal calling out the loudest, that Eoin was too scared to fight. In the end, they came to a stalemate when their swords locked, and neither was prepared to yield.
Fingal fought dirty, using every tactic at his disposal to embarrass Eoin, but this was hardly Eoin’s first fight. When Fingal attempted to kick dirt into Eoin’s face, Eoin kicked him in the shin. When Fingal attempted to swipe Eoin’s legs out from under him, Eoin bashed his targe into Fingal’s knee. When Fingal spewed curses at him, hoping to anger him, Eoin laughed. They’d been going around in circles for nearly half an hour, evenly matched in skill and strength, but while Fingal was red-faced and panting, Eoin remained collected and breathing easily.
Movement at the corner of his eye distracted him when he recognized Cairstine. The flat side of Fingal’s blade smacked against Eoin’s ribs, and Eoin saw Cairstine’s eyes widen even from a distance, but it was almost too late when he realized that it wasn’t Fingal’s last strike that caused her expression. Fingal dropped his sword and targe, launching himself at Eoin. The men collided, landing on the ground in a cloud of dust as they rolled around. Eoin had expected their sparring to devolve into a fistfight, but he’d lost his focus when he’d spotted Cairstine. Now he pulled his legs up beneath Fingal in an attempt to thrust him away, but Fingal rolled back, landing a punch to Eoin’s shoulder. Once again, Eoin pushed Fingal away and made to scramble to his feet, but Fingal grabbed hold of Eoin’s belt and pulled him backwards. Eoin defended himself by avoiding Fingal’s punches, not wanting to land any of his own, but Fingal pushed Eoin too far when he taunted him about Cairstine.
“She’ll lead you around like a lovesick cow, but she’ll leave your bollocks bluer than the midday sky.” Fingal taunted Eoin once again. “She’s naught but a tease.”
Eoin rose to his feet when Fingal stood up. They locked shoulders as they tried to push against one another. Fingal tried to land an uppercut to Eoin’s face, but Eoin squeezed Fingal’s wrist until he felt something pop. The men broke apart only to come back swinging at one another.
“I’d never pictured Cairstine as a slut until I saw her with you. Has she given away all her favors, or did she save some for your brother?” Fingal’s barbs were loud enough this time for the men and Cairstine, who’d stopped at the edge of the lists, to hear. Eoin growled and finally went on the offensive. He rained down one blow after another until Fingal lay in an unconscious heap at his feet.
“Are you all right?” Cairstine asked, as she hurried to Eoin’s side. She barely spared a glance at Fingal, who groaned but remained unmoving.
“I’m all right, Cairrie.” Eoin smiled, but his split lip made him wince. Cairstine carried a waterskin with her, which she handed to Eoin. When he finished drinking, she poured water onto her cuff and dabbed her sleeve against his lip, wiping away the trickle of blood. Eoin retrieved his training sword and targe, giving them back to the man in charge of the armory before strapping his battle sharp claymore to his back.
“I packed us a picnic,” Cairstine explained as she retrieved the basket she’d been carrying. Eoin lifted it from her arm as she led him away from the lists and the men teasing Fingal, who came round after someone dumped water on his head. They made their way to the postern gate and left the bailey. A loch lay to the right, and the village was directly ahead of them. Eoin could see the market Cairstine had mentioned that morning. He assumed they would find a table amongst the stalls where they could eat, but Cairstine led them toward the loch. Eoin looked over her head to the far side of the village where he could see the treeline. He realized it was amongst those trees that men attacked Cairstine. Eoin nearly stumbled when she seemed to read his mind. “I can still go into the woods here, just not that spot. I hunt with Fingal and Bram, and I collect medicinals with Mother and Fenella. I’m just careful never to go there.”
Cairstine didn’t look at Eoin or toward the woods, instead guiding them to a meadow beside the loch. The bluebells and heather made the expanse appear more like a sea of rippling waves than grasslands. Cairstine led Eoin to a spot of flattened grass. It appeared as if little had grown there in years.
“An auld woman once had a croft here. They say she had the gift of second sight. Whether she chose to live out here by herself or they shunned her into living apart, I don’t know. But the croft fell down when I was still young, and we have built nothing here since. The grass doesn’t grow, and some say it’s Ailis’s spirit that keeps it that way, ensuring we never forget her.” Cairstine shrugged as she spread the blanket she brought. She liked the spot because she could see for miles around but still have a space where few noticed her.
Eoin took Cairstine’s hands before she began unpacking the food. He squeezed them, running his thumb over the backs of them. “Thank you for this, Cairrie. This was thoughtful, and I appreciate the effort. It’s probably for the best that I’m not in the Great Hall taking the noon meal.”
“I never dreamed Fingal would attack you, but I should have known he wouldn’t let it rest,” Cairstine said bitterly. “He’s surely convinced you are trying to usurp his inheritance.”
“But you know I’m not, don’t you?” Eoin asked doubtfully.
“Of course, you’re not. You’ll never leave Gordon land or abandon your duties as Ewan’s second. How anyone can forget that is beyond me.”
Because there is much a mon would give up for the woman he loves. Perhaps there is much I should consider giving up.Eoin remained quiet even as his mind spun in circles.Mayhap Ewan was right that a family of my own with a woman I don’t love isn’t as important as being with the woman I love. Perhaps a family of two is all that I need.
Cairstine watched Eoin, unable to tell what he was thinking, but certain he was lost in thought. When she made to pull her hands away, his attention snapped back to her. He gazed down at her, and she waited for him to speak.
