“Matins?” Cairstine parroted. “Mama said no one would expect us to appear until at least Terce, but most probably Sext or None.” Eoin rolled over and looked at her.
“Your mother expects us to remain secluded in a bedchamber for most of the day?”
Cairstine shifted uncomfortably and winced before nodding. “She said that’s what’s expected of any newly-wedded couple.”
“When have you ever done aught that’s expected?” Eoin grumbled. “Go to bed, Cairrie.”
Cairstine watched as he turned his back to her once again. She rushed to the side of the bed where he’d sat before. She pulled the pillows off the bed and grabbed an extra Grant plaid from the foot of the bed. She offered the pillows to Eoin as she covered him with her clan’s plaid. She stilled as she took in the sight of a man wearing her plaid. Something felt so right about seeing Eoin covered with it. It wasn’t so much that it was the Grant pattern, but because it was hers. Her heart ached as she wished yet again that the charade they were perpetrating could be real rather than make-believe. She went back to the bedside where his sword rested and tried to lift it. The beastly weapon was nearly as long as she was tall and weighed nearly as much as her. She stumbled, and the tip dragged along the floor. Eoin sprang to his feet, hand on his dagger until he realized what Cairstine was trying to do.
He reached out and took the sword from her, as she looked sheepishly at him. He tilted her chin up, pressing a quick kiss, one that was done all too soon, to her lips. “Thank you.”
Cairstine nodded before she climbed into bed and drew the curtains closed. She heard Eoin rest the sword against what she assumed was the hearth before he settled back on the floor. She listened to his steady breathing, and it lulled her into slumber.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eoin’s eyes fluttered open as he came awake to the sound of someone moving. For a second time in a row, he awoke disoriented, but he soon remembered he was in Cairstine’s room. And it was Cairstine shifting restlessly on her bed that forced him awake. He glanced toward the window, and the sky was still a deep blue, but the stars had disappeared. He lay still, listening as she mumbled in her sleep. Her disturbed slumber reminded him of the nightmares she had while they traveled to Freuchie. He waited to see if she would settle, but when he heard her call his name, panic lacing her voice, he bolted to her side. He ripped the bed curtains open as Cairstine sat up, her eyes glazed and unseeing.
“Cairrie,” Eoin shook her shoulder and roused her from her daze, but she turned fearful, unseeing eyes toward him. “I’m here,leannan. Shh.” Eoin perched on the edge of the bed as Cairstine sank into his embrace. She shuddered twice then quieted, making Eoin wonder if she’d fallen back to sleep. When he attempted to lay her back against the pillows, she clutched his leine.
“Don’t go,” she mumbled. “So scared.”
Eoin glanced to the hearth where he’d been sleeping, then back to Cairstine, who once again trembled. “Scoot over, lass.” Cairstine obliged and made room for Eoin, but when he laid on top of the covers, she twisted to look over her shoulder. “You’ll freeze.”
“I’ll be fine. Cairrie, go back to sleep.”
“But—”
“Cairstine, if you wish for me to keep my promise not to touch you, then leave be. It’s better this way.”
Cairstine looked at him for a long moment before nodding. She turned back but squirmed her way closer to Eoin, absorbing his heat and falling back into a deep and peaceful sleep. Eoin laid still until Cairstine’s even breathing assured him she had returned to the land of Nod. He drew her closer as he wrapped his arm over her trim waist. Roses and lemons were the last thing he remembered until light and a warm, womanly body woke him.
* * *
Cairstine was cozier than she ever remembered being as she yawned. She blinked her eyes open and discovered a male chest was a hairsbreadth from her nose. Blond hair peaked from beneath the loosened ties, and a deep rumble came from the sleeping giant beside her. It wasn’t a snore, so much as deep, even breathing. Cairstine found herself tucked beneath Eoin’s chin, his arm resting heavily across her. She dared not move lest she wake him and end the moment. She closed her eyes once more and drifted back to sleep.
Eoin kept still, maintaining the same breathing pattern he had when he woke to Cairstine curled beside him like a tiny kitten. He’d felt her breath on his chest, waiting for her to push him away, accusing him of taking advantage of her. But she sighed and continued to slumber. Eoin also discovered he was trapped. His left arm lay beneath Cairstine’s neck, and his right arm draped across Cairstine’s waist with hers on top of his. Unwilling to disturb her after her fitful sleep, he closed his own eyes. He intended to rest, but he was too comfortable to fight the tug toward the land of peace and dreams.
It was midmorning and sunlight filled the bedchamber as Cairstine stretched and slammed her head into the underside of Eoin’s chin. He grumbled and rolled away, but drew Cairstine with him. She found herself tucked against Eoin’s side, the arm she’d flung across Eoin’s waist while sleeping now rested on his chest. She felt his thumb sweeping over her shoulder, signaling he was awake too. Neither was inclined to ruin the moment, but a knock on the door did it for them. Eoin grumbled again, disentangling himself from Cairstine and sliding off the bed. He looked at Cairstine, cocking an eyebrow before he whipped his leine over his head and flung it on the floor. He rearranged his plaid so it sat low on his hips.
Cairstine’s eyes followed every movement, every ripple and bunch of muscle as Eoin moved. She nodded absentmindedly, understanding Eoin’s actions. He moved to the door but glanced back at Cairstine to ensure she was presentable. Her sleep mussed hair made his already aching cock strain beneath his plaid. He drew in a deep breath and opened the door a crack. He was less than pleased to see Davina and a troop of servants outside the door.
“It’s midday, and you haven’t called for any food. I confess I grew concerned,” Davina admitted as she attempted to peer around Eoin’s broad shoulders to catch a glimpse of Cairstine. “I thought you might be hungry and that—ah—Cairstine might appreciate a warm bath.”
Eoin understood what Davina implied, and he had a moment of trepidation because he hadn’t considered Davina might come for the bedsheet. He backed away from the door, allowing Davina to enter, but he turned his back as maids once again entered with a tub and steaming buckets of water. Davina went to Cairstine’s bedside, and Eoin caught her eyes sweeping over the rumpled bedding, but she registered no surprise that there wasn’t a streak to prove they’d consummated the handfast. Cairstine noticed her mother looking at the bedding, and her eyes widened as she darted her gaze to Eoin. He flexed his hand by this thigh, giving her a staying gesture.
Eoin feared Davina questioning Cairstine while listening ears and lips ready to spread gossip filled the chamber. When Eoin approached, Cairstine pulled the covers up as she slid from the bed. She felt the blood slide from her face as she noticed the pillows and plaid laying before the fire. Eoin knew what she saw because he’d thought of it too late. The scene looked incriminating for a couple who were supposedly celebrating their wedding night. As if the pillows and plaid before the hearth weren’t bad enough, it was a Grant plaid that laid on the floor. Eoin feared Davina and the servants would assume he’d made Cairstine sleep on the floor while he took the bed.
Davina noticed Eoin’s and Cairstine’s attention was focused on the hearth, so she looked too. Her eyes narrowed as she turned to look at Cairstine, then Eoin. He noticed the plate he’d set aside in case one of them grew hungry. He knew that would be noticed soon too.
“It’s a nice play for a midnight snack, but,” Eoin shrugged as he watched Cairstine’s face flush. Eoin came to stand beside Cairstine and flashed Davina a look of warning before lifting his chin toward the women setting up the bath and table for the couple to break their fast. Davina hung back as the servants left. Eoin chose a preemptive approach. “I came to Freuchie to court Cairstine and to secure a betrothal. It was impetuous of us to handfast, but I won’t rush Cairrie.”
Davina cast a speculative look at Cairstine, who couldn’t meet her mother’s eyes. The morning after her supposed marriage was as bad as she feared; she just didn’t have an irate groom. Instead, she had no proof of her maidenhead having been in place when they retired for the night, and Eoin all but announced that he hadn’t bedded her.
“You’re a lucky young woman,mo ghruagach,” was all Davina said before she moved to the door. She met Eoin’s gaze and mouthed “thank you” before closing the door behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eoin had returned to the hell from the night prior. Cairstine was in the bath, and he was cloistered away on the bed. He’d snatched a linen square from the stack while Cairstine pulled fresh clothing from her chest, setting them on the stool. As Cairstine scrubbed herself in the tub, Eoin eased his painfully hard rod. He clamped his lips shut and ground his teeth as his release swept through him. He breathed easier, but he suspected he would be taking himself in hand often now that he shared a chamber with Cairstine but couldn’t touch her. At least not more than he had the night before.
