“There’s a difference between having fun and needless recklessness, Cairrie. Maybe if you were at Freuchie where you must know every inch of the land, riding like that would be fine. But there are too many unknown dangers here. You shouldn’t have gotten that far ahead of your guard. You could have been attacked, then taken or dead, before any of us got to you.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you so much. It was thoughtless of me, and I’m sorry. And you didn’t frighten me.” Cairstine and Eoin both knew it was a lie.
“I did.” Eoin searched Cairstine’s eyes for a silent explanation, but none was clear. “Someone hurt you. I don’t know how long ago, but I know someone did. I don’t want you to ever fear that I will take advantage of you. I’ll never force you to do aught.”
Cairstine swallowed and nodded. Eoin decided saying any more would push Cairstine too far, so he slid his hand into hers and led them toward the horses. Just before they reached the road, Cairstine stopped and turned toward Eoin.
“Why did you call me Cairrie?”
“I did?” Eoin’s brow furrowed. “I hadn’t realized that I did.”
“You did it thrice. No one calls me that. My sister and friends at home call me Cair but never Cairrie.”
“I shouldn’t have taken such liberties. I owe you another apology.”
“You don’t. I like it; I’m just not used to it.” Cairstine’s smile was shy as she tilted her head back once again to look Eoin in the eye. “You’ve very tall.” Cairstine clapped her mouth shut, chastising herself for sounding like a hen-wit.
“I am. Or perhaps you’re just very short,” Eoin’s grin eased the last of the tension between them.
* * *
Cairstine slipped away from the camp when Ewan and Allyson returned. They’d gone down to the riverbank, ostensibly so Allyson could bathe, but Cairstine had understood the heated looks the newlyweds exchanged as they dashed away from the others. Cairstine unlaced her boots and rolled her stockings down before slipping out of her kirtle. She kept her chemise on despite longing to scrub it clean after three days on the horseback. She’d packed only one other, knowing she would relinquish all of her worldly goods upon her arrival at the nunnery. She preferred her belongings be sent home where her sister could put them to use. She was saving the clean chemise so she could look presentable when she met the abbess.
She gathered the length of fabric and tucked the hem into her neckline, ensuring it was loose enough to cover what she wanted no one to spy. She waded into the icy water, sucking in a whistling breath as the water reached mid-thigh. The current was stronger than she expected, but she easily kept her balance. She bent over and dunked her head beneath the surface, before using the soap to scrub her face, neck, and hair. Cairstine hurried to finish her bath as her teeth chattered, and she didn’t want anyone to search for her. The sound of a twig snapping made Cairstine freeze as she turned toward the noise. She had a dirk gripped between her teeth, but she tossed the soap onto the shore and held the knife, prepared to defend herself against man or beast.
“Come out of there before you freeze or cut yourself,” Eoin’s barely lowered voice floated toward her. She shifted and caught sight of him standing on the bank with his hands on his hips.
“I’m almost done. Turn away while I finish.”
“You haven’t any soap now, so you’re done. Cairstine, come out before you end up soaked.”
Cairstine scowled, but Eoin was right. She’d finished before Eoin arrived, but she didn’t want him to see her as she climbed the riverbank. There would be no graceful way to exit the river, and she feared flashing him more than she intended.
“Turn away.”
“No.” Eoin said simply.
“Why not?”
“Because if the river carries you away, I want my eyes on you when I dive in to fish you out.”
“The river isn’t taking me anywhere, now turn around.”
“You’ll freeze before I turn away, so hurry.”
Cairstine grumbled but gave in. She picked her way, careful not to stub her toes on any of the rocks below the surface. She was nearly to the shore when an owl hooted and startled her. Her foot slipped on a rock, and she lurched backward. She landed in the water with a curse, then a splash as the water rose above her head. The hand that held her dirk stuck out as the current tried to push her. She refused to lose her knife, so she fumbled to stand up as the chemise tangled around her legs. Her head burst from the water as Eoin splashed in. He lifted her into his arms and carried her ashore.
“Put that bluidy knife down before you impale me in the throat,” Eoin grumbled. “I warned you.”
“And if I hadn’t been so focused on not flashing you my nether bits, that bluidy owl wouldn’t have startled me. I lost my balance and slipped on a rock.”
“And nearly drowned with one arm waving that dagger aboot like a flag. You would have gained your balance faster if you’d used two hands to push against the bottom and to hold up your chemise.”
“I refuse to lose this knife.” Cairstine dropped the knife on her pile of clothes and wrapped her arms around her middle. Her chemise may as well have disappeared for the modesty it offered. It was transparent and clung to her like a second skin.
“Why’s it so important?” Eoin asked as he unpinned the broach at his shoulder. He dropped the emerald pin into his sporran before unfastening his belt. As the plaid unraveled, Cairstine backed away, her eyes wide. Eoin was quick to snap the plaid free of his hips, his leine falling to just above his knees. He wrapped the plaid around Cairstine’s shoulders before taking four steps back. “Why’s it so important?” he repeated.
“What?” Cairstine appeared dazed as she pulled the plaid tighter as Eoin’s scent wafted to her, drugging her nearly as effectively as his kisses had. She held up the plaid she had clenched in one hand. “Thank you. And the knife is important because it was my brother’s. Erskine gave it to me when he returned to Freuchie after his fostering ended. He came to say his goodbyes since he was remaining with the MacGregors, having agreed to marry the laird’s daughter. I barely know my brother, but he taught me how to hunt and fish when I was young and he returned for visits during his fostering. I skinned the first rabbit I caught with this knife. I suppose I’m sentimental.”
“There’s naught wrong with being sentimental.” Eoin reached into his sporran and removed the brooch. His thumb swept over the smooth stone in the center. “This was my mother’s father’s. He was the Seton laird. I told you aboot my aunt and what happened to her. My grandfather never blamed her, even if he couldn’t change how others saw my aunt. He was a kind auld mon with a bristly and bushy beard from what I remember. I was certain he was as tall as the Cairngorms when I was a child. My mother saw no value to worldly goods, but my grandmother ensured Ewan and I each had something to remind us of them. I received my grandfather’s brooch, and Ewan received my grandmother’s wedding ring. Allyson will wear it once we reach home.”
“Ewan was given the ring?” Cairstine puzzled as she considered what she knew of the twins.
“Aye. He’s the older twin. It had been a Seton family piece, given to my grandmother when my grandparents’ marriage formed the alliance between the Setons and Scrymgeours. There is no beginning and no end to a ring, so it symbolizes eternity. The alliance was meant to last forever, just like the one Ewan would forge with whoever he married.”
“That’s rather romantic and sentimental. It’s fortunate that he fell in love with Allyson because his auld views on marriage were no secret. The ring would have just been a piece of jewelry if he’d married someone else. Now that symbol of eternity means something again.” Cairstine looked toward the camp as she considered Eoin and why she sensed he would have been the better recipient of the ring before Allyson entered Ewan’s life. “I don’t think you shared your brother’s ideas on marriage.”
Eoin’s eyebrows shot up, surprised that Cairstine had deduced the truth. “I didn’t. While Ewan subscribed to our fathe
r’s belief that marriage was a business agreement, I saw the sacrament from the opposite perspective. It’s a vow made between two people before God and witnesses and shouldn’t be dishonored.”
“Your parents’ marriage influenced you both, but in very different ways. It surprises me since everyone assumes there is no difference between the two of you. I’ve heard many women say you’re interchangeable. Perhaps your looks,” Cairstine’s eyes narrowed. “And perhaps many of your thoughts and even mannerisms, but you’re not at all the same person, are you?”
“We’re not.” Cairstine’s assessment surprised Eoin. Few people differentiated between the brothers, and their uncanny ability to read one another’s minds meant it often felt like they were extensions of one another rather than unique individuals. “We’re alike in almost every way, but how we differ is our strength. We are the quiet voice of reason the other needs. Does that make sense?”
“It does. I can’t explain it either, but I understand.”
Eoin pulled Cairstine’s hair free from the plaid and squeezed the water from it before rubbing her arms. When her teeth chattered, he pulled her into his embrace and held her, hoping his heat would warm her. His cock threatened to stir, but he forced his lower half not to take control. He refused to scare Cairstine again and ruin the moment as he had days earlier in the woods. She huddled within his arms and rested her head against Eoin’s chest. There was a rightness to the feeling that neither wanted to dissect, so they stood together and enjoyed the moment. Cairstine’s hand crept free of the plaid and rested on Eoin’s chest beneath her head and over his heart. Eoin pressed a kiss to her forehead, and when she tilted her head back to look up at him, their mouth came together. The frenzy that consumed them during their last kiss was absent, replaced by tenderness. Eoin didn’t move his hands, keeping his arms wrapped around the middle of her back. He pulled away when he could no longer keep his rod from swelling. When she furrowed her brow, he offered her a rueful smile.
“I can’t keep kissing you and holding you without risking scaring you again.” Eoin confessed. Cairstine’s mouth formed a perfect circle of surprise, and lust shot straight to Eoin’s cock, making it twitch. He was thankful his leine was loose enough to hide the movement at his hips. He turned away and spoke over his shoulder, “Get dressed while I ensure no one approaches. Once you’re on your way back to camp, I’ll pleat my plaid and put it back on.”
Cairstine nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her. She scrambled to shuck off the chemise that stuck to her before slipping her kirtle back on. She didn’t bother with her stockings or boots. “Thank you,” was all she said before dashing back to the camp. Eoin watched as she disappeared, but he heard her greet Allyson, reassuring him that she’d made it safely. He stripped off his boots and leine before plunging into the frigid river. Even the bracing temperature of the water did little to cool his ardor. He turned his back to the camp and eased his discomfort as he took himself in hand, ruing his desire for a woman who would soon be a nun.
Chapter Nine
Trepidation filled Cairstine as Dundee Priory came into view on the outskirts of the town. The scent of saltwater from the Firth of Tay filled her nose, and the sound of men working on the docks floated to her. She glanced about, seeing the peak of Craigowl Hill in the distance, the highest of the Sidlaws. They’d passed a shrine for St Curetán as they approached from the west along the Lochee burn, and it reminded her of her choice to become a nun. She’d almost been able to forget during the week of travel with the Gordons. No one brought up Cairstine’s destination, and she could push her decision to the back of her mind.
Cairstine had visited the coast near Aberdeen as a child, but she hadn’t been to a port village like Dundee. The bustle reminded her of Stirling, but it smelled minimally better. The pungent fish odor was an improvement upon the sewage stench that clouded the Stirling streets. She watched as a group of monks walked along the streets, recognizing them as Trinitarians, or Red Friars, because of their white scapular with the horizontal blue shaft and the vertical red shaft that made the cross. It surprised her to see members of the lesser Franciscan order. She expected to see Greyfriars in their traditional dark habit.
“The Red Friars offer the local people medicinals and healing,” Andrew spoke up. Cairstine looked toward the older man as he continued to explain. “Sir James Scrymgeour founded their branch in the year of our Lord twelve hundred and eighty-three. They live and worship alongside their Greyfriars brothers at the Priory.”
Cairstine nodded as she turned her attention back to the monks, who walked with their arms crossed, hands buried in their sleeves. She supposed she would soon walk much the same way since nuns wore similar loose-fitting robes. The large crosses bumped against the men’s chests as they weaved their way through the crowd, and the realization that a similar lanyard would hang from her neck made her want to tear at the invisible noose threatening to choke her.
“Second thoughts?” Eoin whispered as he maneuvered his horse beside hers.
“Not at all,” Cairstine lied. She kept her eyes forward, signaling she wasn’t interested in discussing her feelings with Eoin, but he refused to take the hint.
“It’s understandable if you are,” he offered.
“What do you want me to say, Eoin?” Cairstine cast him a sidelong glance. “That I’m terrified of the unknown life ahead of me? That I wish there was another choice besides marriage and the Church? That I wish I could run away? What’s the point in admitting any of that? It changes naught.”
“It changes everything, Cairrie. You don’t have to go through with this. There must be another way.”
“There isn’t. Don’t you think I’ve tried to come up with something, anything, else? Leave it alone, Eoin. Your duty to escort me is over,” Cairstine finished as she pointed toward the priory a scant distance in front of them. He could see the knocker on the gate.
“We shall stop here for the night. I will secure chambers at the tavern,” Andrew announced. He turned his gaze toward Cairstine, and it softened. The sympathy that shone from the laird’s eyes surprised her. “If you’d like a chance to refresh yourself and have a proper meal first, I’m certain Eoin will escort you to the gate afterwards.”
“My thanks, Laird Gordon.” Andrew’s offer was a welcome opportunity for Cairstine to gather her thoughts. Between the priory being so nearby and Eoin acting as her guard, she felt unsettled. She looked forward to slipping into a chamber with the door closed to collect herself. It would likely be the last bedchamber she would enter that wasn’t a convent cell. Cairstine followed the others into the Leg of Mutton and took the seat Eoin offered. He eased his chair close enough that their elbows grazed one another as they ate. She sensed, more than saw, Eoin’s constant surveillance of the crowd. It was neither large nor rowdy, but various men gawked at Cairstine and Allyson. She noticed Ewan was just as alert, and he kept an arm wrapped around Allyson’s waist, his territory clearly marked. Cairstine suspected Eoin longed to do the same, if for no other reason than to ensure her safety. She found herself shifting to bring their bodies closer, and Eoin’s sharp inhale assured her that he wasn’t immune to her presence despite his focus on everyone else.
“You don’t have to accompany me, Eoin. Bram can do that,” Cairstine murmured as she lifted her mug of ale to her mouth.
“It would be an honor,” Eoin reassured before taking a large bite of pottage. Once he swallowed, he washed it down with a gulp from his mug. He appeared at ease, but he didn’t fool Cairstine. “You’ll be safer having a nobleman with you than just guardsmen when you arrive. I’ll remain silent, if I can, but without your dowry in hand, there is little to keep the abbess from treating you like a whore who’s run away. I can’t protect you once you’re in the cloister, but I can be sure they don’t misunderstand who has entered.”
“You can’t take your sword inside!” Cairstine gasped in horror as she pictured a sword-wielding Highlander storming through the priory.
> “Look at me, Cairrie. Do I look like I need my sword to prove my strength? I’m not looking to terrify the nuns, but I want them to understand that you aren’t without resources or support. Promise me, if you’re unhappy or mistreated, you’ll get a message to me. I’ll come, no questions asked. I’ll take you wherever else you want to go, but I won’t leave you somewhere to be abused.” Eoin glanced at Allyson, who leaned against Ewan as she whispered in his ear. His sister-by-marriage’s family had treated her abominably before the twins uncovered a long-kept secret, and they helped restore her place within her family.
“The prioress is a woman of God. She sees to the safety and care of all the sisters, including novices and postulates,” Cairstine reasoned.
Eoin’s expression didn’t hide his disdain for her naivety. “Cairrie, the prioress may have the best of intentions, but that doesn’t change the fact that men come and go from the priory every day.”
“They’re not men,” Cairstine laughed. “They’re monks.”
“And unless they’ve been gelded, they are still men. Most abide by their vows of chastity, but not all do. I won’t allow any of them to think they can molest you.” The color drained from Cairstine’s face so rapidly that Eoin’s arm shot around her and pulled her against his side. Her body trembled as she clung to Eoin, her hand gripping the front of his leine. “Shhh, leannan.” Eoin murmured “sweetheart” as he helped her out of her seat. He cast a staying glance at Andrew and Ewan before putting his hand out for the chamber key. He guided Cairstine above stairs, and to the chamber he and his father would share that night.
“I—I never thought aboot the monks coming and going from a convent. I assumed they would remain at the abbey.”
“Cairstine, the nearest abbey is close to an hour’s ride from here. You’re going to a priory that houses both monks and nuns; it’s not a convent. I know you saw the Trinitarians earlier. They have their own dormitory and refectory at Dundee, which they share with Greyfriars. But the monks and nuns worship together, and it’s inevitable that they pass one another on the priory grounds. You’re a beautiful woman, Cairrie, and a habit and veil won’t hide that. Your guards will leave as soon as you’re settled, and that leaves you unprotected in a way that you’re unused to. If it’s clear that you are a Grant and have the protection of the Gordon laird’s family, they’re less likely to take advantage of you.”
A Rake at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Four Page 6
