Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eoin pulled Bram’s little finger back at an awkward angle as the man continued to press the dirk to Eoin’s neck. It was close enough to ensure Cairstine saw the effort it took, but not so close Eoin couldn’t speak without being nicked.
“Are you watching, Cairstine? Do you see how by bending back and down the little finger, I can make him drop the knife?” Eoin asked as Bram’s hand jerked away, trying to ease the strain on his smallest finger. They’d spent most of the morning outside, Eoin and Bram demonstrating. The men took turns practicing with Cairstine while the other gave directions. Cairstine nodded and stepped forward, preparing for Eoin to step behind her. She’d been apprehensive about training once they reached a spot outside the wall, away from anyone’s prying eyes. She was nervous that she would make a fool of herself in front of Eoin, but it was clear he’d trained many warriors over the years. He was patient in his instructions and corrections. She felt confident rather than awkward even when he had to explain something more than once or she didn’t master a move the first time.
They spent a couple more hours working through moves and drills before Eoin and Bram agreed Cairstine had had enough for her first day. Cairstine suspected they were tired too, having run through the moves over and over until they were both satisfied that she had the basics. She already felt sore, but the ache was more of a sense of accomplishment than pain.
“Cairrie, I need to go to the lists in the morning, but Bram will accompany us in the afternoon. You and I will practice while he stands guard. I’m comfortable with you going through the moves with no more demonstrations.” Eoin kissed her cheek and whispered. “I’m proud of you.”
“Ye did well, lass. Caught on faster than most lads,” Bram beamed. The praise bolstered Cairstine’s confidence, and she returned their smiles.
* * *
The next fortnight took on a pattern, with Eoin going to the lists each morning while Cairstine spent time with her mother and sister. She assisted them with the chatelaine duties. Both sisters had been trained nearly since birth to run a large household. They were efficient and in command of their various tasks. Cairstine oversaw the kitchens, but it was two days before she felt comfortable showing her face. Her mother spoke the truth when she said they were shorthanded. Davina let three women go for not showing the proper amount of remorse when she addressed the matter. The tension eased, but Cairstine was still embarrassed. Eoin encouraged her to act as though nothing happened and to maintain the same expectations as she had before. His suggestion built her confidence, and she found she relied on him more each day.
Fingal hadn’t grown warmer to Eoin, but he’d been friends with Cairstine their entire lives, and he begrudgingly admitted that Cairstine appeared happier and more relaxed than he’d seen her since well before she left for court. He even mentioned it had been five or six years since he remembered this carefree version of Cairstine. Eoin and Bram had been standing, wiping the sweat from their faces as they spoke with Fingal. They exchanged a look, but both pretended to consider Fingal’s idea as though it were a novel insight, not one that touched far too close to the truth. The men came to a silent truce, Fingal continuing to eye Eoin like a hawk. But rather than suspecting Eoin was a usurper, he was judging Eoin as a husband. By the end of the fortnight, Fingal appeared satisfied, which made Eoin feel even more guilty that the ruse would draw to an end soon.
Edward announced Fenella would wed Kennon at the beginning of the Highland Gathering, and the wedding feast would launch the fortnight-long clan meeting. There would be feats of strength and skill, an enormous market, music, and feasting. The Grants once again hosted the event, for the first time in six years. As the festival approached, Eoin sensed Cairstine’s growing trepidation. He continued their training sessions most afternoons with Bram standing guard. While Cairstine was an apt student and Eoin a patient teacher, the constant proximity was straining both of their nerves. Except for a few pecks on the cheek, they’d kept their physical distance when they weren’t sparring or dancing after the evening meal.
Eoin often went to the stables to visit Gun Eagalin the evenings while Cairstine bathed.He and Cairstine rode some mornings before Eoin went to the lists. Eoin’s heart wedged in his throat during most of the hair-raising jaunts. Cairstine was a daredevil, and she enjoyed racing even more than she’d shown the day she and Allyson bolted as soon as they cleared the Stirling gates. Eoin admitted she impressed him with her skill, but he scolded her each time for taking years off his life. It was at these moments that Cairstine would peck Eoin on the cheek and pat his chest. He’d hold her hand over his heart, and they shared a heated look before both snapped out of the trance.
Eoin took to bathing in the loch, praying the icy water would cool his ardor, but it never did. Rather than distract him from Cairstine, he resorted to taking himself in hand each night, hoping to ease the constant ache in his bollocks. He’d tried to picture other women, any woman, but his mind refused to conjure an image of anyone other than Cairstine. He was certain he would be baying at the moon, a madman, by the time he left. The more time they spent together, the more his longing grew to keep her by his side even after Fenella and Kennon’s wedding. At times, he thought Cairstine might be warming to the idea of a proper marriage, but he never pressed, especially when she retreated whenever Fenella’s wedding came up.
He watched the sisters as they chatted after the evening meal, sitting at the hearth in the Great Hall. Some nights they played chess, and other nights they sewed. He immediately knew when they spoke about Fenella’s wedding and marriage because Cairstine seemed to shrink into herself, plastering a forced smile while retreating. She nodded often, but rarely spoke. Fenella babbled, happy to have someone’s ear while she prattled about her favorite subject.
It was during one of these evenings, while he sat playing chess with Fingal, that he noticed Cairstine’s real distress as she listened to her sister. It was one of the rare times Cairstine seemed forced to take part in the conversation, and her body language screamed to Eoin that she was growing more anxious by the moment.
“Can’t you keep your eyes off your wife long enough to lose properly?” Fingal muttered. Eoin’s attention shifted back to the game, noting that Fingal trounced him. He’d only halfheartedly been playing, his focus on Cairstine. “She’ll survive the length of a game without your attention. She’s a grown woman, as we all can tell from the way the two of you carry on.”
Fingal’s last comment brought Eoin’s attention back to the man sitting across from him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“No one can stop clishmaclavering aboot how in love you are with each other. They blather on and on aboot how good you’ve been for Cairstine and how no one imagined both Gordon twins could be tamed.”
“Tamed?” Eoin cocked an eyebrow.
“Aye. It’s no secret that you have a reputation as a rake. You’ve been through more women than a pig does slop,” Fingal chuckled when Eoin growled. He threw his hands up when Eoin leaned forward. “All I mean is, it surprised people how quickly you reformed. You’ve frustrated more than one lass in this keep because you look nowhere but at Cairstine. They’d banked on your brief attention span, hoping you’d tire of Cairstine and look further afield.”
“What?” Eoin didn’t like what he heard. It wasn’t the part about him being a reformed rake. He knew he was, and he didn’t miss his bed-hopping past, even if his cock remained hard as a pike the entire day. It bothered him that the women of the clan still thought Cairstine wasn’t enough to hold his attention.
“No one thought Cairstine would go willingly into a marriage. She balked at every proposed suitor, refusing to consider any of them. She begged off for years and even went so far as to run to a convent. You even took her. So when you showed up and suddenly demanded her hand, people wondered if the pair of you had gone daft. They're biding their time before she gives you the cold shoulder and you seek your pleasure with a more willing woman.”
Eoin fumed. He was insulted on both their parts, and it angered him that Cairstine’s clan refused to see how she’d changed. He nearly snapped that they would leave for Huntly soon, and their marriage would be no one’s concern. But he couldn’t. He would return to Huntly, but alone. Cairstine would either retire as a spinster or join an order. He opened his mouth to state the latter half of his thought when he noticed Cairstine was agitated as Fenella giggled and continued rambling. Eoin rose from his seat just at Cairstine cast him a desperate glance. Fingal spoke, but Eoin didn’t hear him. He mumbled “excuse me” before making his way to Cairstine’s side. He caught part of what Fenella whispered.
“Why won’t you tell me what the marriage bed is like? I’ve already told you what I know, but I want to know if it’s as divine as I hear the maids say. How can doing something like that feel good? It sounds awkward. But I admit I can’t stop thinking aboot it since my wedding is two days away.” Fenella’s giddiness made Cairstine’s head pound.
Eoin placed his hand at the base of Cairstine’s neck, his fingers and thumb rubbing the knots he had little trouble finding. Cairstine gazed up at him, relief flooding her expression. He continued to ease her tensions as Fenella greeted him, having the good graces to blush, certain Eoin heard that last of what she said. Fenella excused herself and dashed away.
“That was dreadful,” Cairstine murmured. “I didn’t know what to say. She kept pressing me, and I couldn’t come up with anything beyond ‘it’s pleasant.’ She thought I was being coy because she’s still a maiden and shouldn’t be discussing such things, even with her married sister.” Cairstine glanced around, trembling under Eoin’s touch. “Except I’m not really married, and I can’t answer any of her questions. It was hardly pleasant for me.”
“Cairrie, I’m sorry.Mo leannan, next time excuse yourself and say you need to speak to me, or give me a sign, and I’ll rescue you.”
“You’re always rescuing me. Always. I’ve done naught for you, and you do everything for me.” Cairstine stood from her chair and looked around as if she would flee. When her gaze swung back to Eoin, she whimpered and fell into the haven of his arms. She couldn’t figure out where else to go but to Eoin when she needed to escape. His arms came around her, and he tucked her head against his chest, kissing her forehead. Slowly her trembling abated, and she released his leine, not realizing she’d crushed it in her fists.
“Let’s get some air,” Eoin suggested.
Chapter Thirty
Eoin led Cairstine outside, the evening chilly but their plaids were sufficient. They walked to the gardens, where they sat on a bench and pointed out the various shapes the stars made. Eoin told her how his mother taught Ewan and him about the Greeks and all the constellations they named. They leaned against one another, making it easier to follow where they pointed. As though magnets, it wasn’t long before their mouths came together. Cairstine moaned, the sound filled with relief. Eoin swept his tongue along the seam of her lips, and she eagerly opened to him. Their tongues tangled and dueled as the kiss grew more and more urgent.
