Cairstine forced herself to focus on the last of the narrow trail as the sun passed its zenith and flatter land came into view. They were only another hour’s ride from Freuchie, and Cairstine wished time would slow. She glanced at Eoin, and an unfamiliar emotion tugged at her heart. It wasn’t the lust she’d experienced with Eoin when they kissed. She knew she would miss him. She would miss his affable smile that both reassured and teased her. She would miss his practical suggestions and the patience with which he offered them. She would miss his company both when they rode in silence and when they told their life stories. She ordered herself to put aside the useless emotions that would get her nowhere. She would arrive at the gates of her clan’s keep, and Eoin would continue on to his clan. The best she could hope for was that he would look back over his shoulder, maybe even wave.
Eoin called a halt as they neared the bank of a babbling stream. Allowing the horses to rest was the only reason to procrastinate that he could devise. The animals deserved the chance to drink after their labor clopping down the mountain, but he knew they could have carried on for another hour. He wanted any excuse to spend a little more time with Cairstine before he had to say goodbye. He knew that her family would host the annual Highland Gathering in a few weeks, but he feared her father would betroth her to another man by then. His heart urged his mind to find the courage to ask Cairstine if she thought she might ever come to care for him enough to consider a marriage to him that could produce children. But his conscience intervened, forcing him to remain silent lest he ruin the brief time they had left in one another’s company.
“Eo?” Cairstine came to stand beside Eoin as he splashed water on his face and neck. When he stood, Cairstine noticed droplets on the ends of his hair. She was tempted to brush them away, but she commanded herself not to touch him. It wouldn’t do either of them any good. “We’re nearly there. Will you stop for the night or continue on?”
Eoin had already considered this. He knew he should accept any offer of hospitality since his men deserved a hot meal and a bed in the barracks for at least one night. But he relied on their eagerness to return home to justify his decision to keep riding. He noticed the hopefulness in Cairstine’s eyes, and his resolve threatened to crumble. He shook his head.
“It would be a welcome rest after a lengthy journey, but my men and I need to return home.”
“Lengthy,” Cairstine murmured before looking Eoin in the eye. “That was my fault. Your family and the rest of your guards have been home for days while you and your men played nursemaid to a self-involved lass who wanted to get her own way.”
“Cairstine, none of us see you that way. I would know if my men did. They may not ken the reasons for your choices, but they respect that you want to take the veil. They’re disappointed for you. I can tell.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better, and you don’t have to,” Cairstine fretted. “I should apologize and thank them.”
“They would appreciate the thanks, but they don’t need your apology. They’re proud men who do their duty with honor. Both of them chose to serve as the laird’s family guards. They knew they would follow wherever we lead them, and they’re proud to do so.”
“Then will you at least accept my apology? I’m sorry for keeping you from your family and your duties. Your clan will be wondering where you’ve gotten off to. I’m certain you’re missed.” Cairstine attempted to sound casual. Saying goodbye was hard enough, but a surge of jealousy that other women would enjoy his attention cut through her.
Eoin lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss. “I don’t keep mistresses. I never have, and I never will. I may dally, but I don’t make false promises and I don’t lead women on.”
False promises. There it is. Plain and simple. The exact reason he couldn’t agree to the charade. And I can’t lead him on knowing I can never be the woman he deserves. Bluidy hell, this hurts. A pain Cairstine wished she could rub away settled in her chest.
“I suppose we should say our goodbyes now, if you’re to continue on.”
“I suppose so.” Eoin continued to hold Cairstine’s much smaller hand in his, but his gentleness still surprised her each time they touched. They stood together, neither looking away but neither moving closer. “Cairrie, if ever you need me, send for me. I will come. No questions asked.”
Cairstine nodded because the lump in her throat kept her from speaking. Eoin brushed away a tear that trickled down her cheek, his own eyes burning with unshed tears. He hadn’t cried since his favorite hound died when he was a child, but the floodgates were bursting. He cleared his throat before pulling Cairstine into his arms. She willingly stepped into his embrace, but it ended far too soon.
“Ma lady, yer father approaches, and his horse is fairly flying,” Bram warned. Eoin and Cairstine turned to see riders galloping toward them. Cairstine feared that if she could see her father that he could see her. And Eoin. And their embrace. They stepped apart as Cairstine prepared to greet her father.
“Cairstine, Eoin,” Edward’s terse greeting boded an uncomfortable ride to the keep. “I was on my way to retrieve you. I expected to find you in Dundee and not on my doorstep.”
Cairstine tried not to wince when her father referred to Freuchie as his home rather than theirs. “Hello, Father.” There was little else for Cairstine to say while they had an audience. Cairstine was unsure of what to do next, feeling lost in a sea of enormous men watching her.
“Would you like my assistance to mount Twinkle?” Eoin offered, hoping to ease the awkward tension. Cairstine nodded, too timid to speak in front of her father in case she made him suspicious about the nature of her relationship with Eoin. Once she was in the saddle, she spurred Twinkle on as the riders splashed through the stream. It felt like less than five minutes rather than an hour when they reined in just before they reached the gates.
“I understand you escorted my daughter while she gallivanted through the eastern Highlands. I offer you our hospitality in thanks, and I would reimburse you the expense.” Edward made no attempt to blunt his words in front of the guardsmen. Eoin narrowed his eyes at the laird. For a man who had once devoted his life to a monastic life, he looked more like a warrior than any monk he knew besides Bishop Graham. He was as tall and as broad as Eoin. Despite the years he had on Eoin, Edward looked like he would be a challenging opponent in the lists. Eoin also knew him to be shrewd, with a tendency to be a skinflint. He was certain it pained Edward to offer anything that took coins out of the Grant coffers.
“It was my honor to serve as your daughter’s escort as she explored devoting her life to Christ, a most admirable vocation.” Eoin didn’t blink as Edward silently challenged him to look away. “Unfortunately, I must decline your invitation of hospitality. And there is no need for aught else.”
The two men stared at one another for a long moment before Edward nodded. “Then we bid you good day and Godspeed.” The laird didn’t wait to see if Cairstine followed, nudging his horse to trot under the portcullis.
“Thank you, Eoin,” Cairstine whispered.
“Remember my pledge, Cairrie. I’ll never break it.”
“I will, Eo. Goodbye,” Cairstine’s voice broke on the last syllable as she struggled not to cry.
“Goodbye, Carrie.”
Cairstine watched Eoin and the Gordons turn their horses northeast and gallop away. She feared her heart had galloped away with them.
Chapter Sixteen
“Cair!” Fenella’s eager voice carried as she bounded down the steps to greet Cairstine in the bailey. Just like the last time she returned home, Davina made her way more gracefully, but her smile matched Fenella’s. Cairstine slid from her saddle, gripping it for a moment, unsure if her legs would hold her. She still trembled from the brief exchange with her father and the rawness of Eoin leaving her behind. She took a deep breath and composed herself before opening her arms to hug both her mother and her sister.
“Remain quiet, Cair. Do what you can to ag
ree with him, and we will sort it out once his anger blows over,” Davina whispered beside Cairstine’s ear. “Just for the love of all the blessed saints and archangels, don’t argue with him.”
“Aye, Mama,” Cairstine murmured.
“Come inside,” Fenella bubbled. “You must be famished.”
“I am a wee peckish,” Cairstine admitted as her stomach growled.
“You intended to live on far less. You can wait a little longer to eat,” Edward’s voice boomed from behind her.
“Aye, Father,” Cairstine kept her head bowed as she followed her mother and father into the keep. Fenella wound her arms around Cairstine’s and squeezed.
“He’s furious, but he’s calmed significantly from a couple of days ago. Don’t argue with him, and it should all blow over once your betrothal is secure.” Fenella and Davina warned her not to argue, and she supposed she had a habit of doing that when she recalled the last conversation she had with her father in his solar.
“Once my betrothal is secured? Has Father decided?” Cairstine feared she would retch on the fresh rushes as they passed through the Great Hall.
“No, but I ken he dispatched four messengers yesterday,” Fenella responded.
“Four? Any idea to who?” Cairstine asked.
Fenella shook her head, but she had no opportunity to answer as Edward stood by the door to his solar, glaring in their direction. Fenella squeezed Cairstine’s arm again.
“Come find me afterwards, Cair. I have so much to tell you. I want to show you the fabric Mother convinced Father to buy for our wedding gowns.”
“I will, Fenny.” Cairstine mustered no excitement at the opportunity to see anything to do with her wedding.
* * *
“Cairstine, can you imagine my surprise when a messenger arrived with a missive from the abbot of Dundee Abbey demanding--oh no, he did not ask, he demanded—that I send your dowry to the priory? Can you imagine my greater shock to learn that not only were you no longer in Stirling but at Dundee Priory attempting to become a nun when I expressly forbade you to do that very thing? And as if those two bits of news weren’t enough, I discover you arrived at the priory with young Gordon beside you.”
Cairstine remained silent as Edward ranted. She recognized the questions were rhetorical, and she wisely kept her mouth shut. Her father made the same circuit around the desk and table that he’d made the last time he dressed down Cairstine. He shook his head before standing beside his desk. He lifted a stack of folded parchment. “These are rejections to my inquiries aboot betrothing you. Not a single eligible mon wants to marry you. Why might that be, Cairstine?”
When Edward cocked an eyebrow but said no more, Cairstine couldn’t avoid answering. “I can’t be certain, but I suspect none of them took a liking to me if they met me. I suppose I’m not always friendly.” She’d been more than friendly with several courtiers, but the brief kisses seemed inconsequential after what she shared with Eoin. But to other men—and women—she’d been as off-putting as she could.
“Unfriendly? None came out and directly said it, but I read between the lines. You have a waspish tongue, little between the ears, and are vainglorious.” Edward shook the stack of missives before tossing them onto the desk. “They described a woman foreign to me. That is not how your mother and I raised you, and that’s not the woman I know you to be. Explain yourself.”
Cairstine flinched at the demand, but she couldn’t avoid it. “Father, I’ve told you I’m not suited to marriage. I liked the days I spent at the priory. They were peaceful and filled me with a calm I’ve never experienced before. I suspected around the time I arrived at court that I didn’t want to marry, but I also understood I was there only in part to serve the queen. I knew you expected me to look for a husband. But Father, you would never approve of the men who lurk at court. Besides being mostly Lowlanders, they are disingenuous and manipulative. They would have married me for my dowry, and what they thought they could siphon from our clan. Between attempting to discourage them and fitting in with the other ladies-in-waiting, I became someone I’m not proud of, but neither am I ashamed. I don’t belong there any more than I belong as someone’s wife.”
“That’s a pretty little speech. But it means naught. You have a duty to this clan, and you will fulfill it. Your selfishness is hurting your sister.” Edward lifted his chin, knowing his barb struck Cairstine between the eyes. “Her life is on hold until you realize there is more to life than what you want.”
“Yes, Father.” Cairstine murmured. “Since you squandered your opportunity to suggest suitors, I shall now have to begin another round of inquiries. Men are already on their way to the Macleans, the MacDonalds, the Sutherlands, and the Campbells.” Edward named clans with eligible bachelors that she already knew.
She thought of Brodie Campbell, who before she became friends with Eoin, was the only man she knew who she thought she might tolerate marrying. But he was heir to his clan’s lairdship and would need his own heirs. Marrying Brodie was impossible. The same was true for Lachlan Sutherland, whose sister she had taunted while Maude’s future sister-by-marriage, Madeline MacLeod, was the unofficial leader of the ladies-in-waiting. She was certain the Sutherlands would burn the missive before saying yes.
Athol MacDonald was a known drunkard, and there were rumors that he’d strangled a whore one night after imbibing too much. It shocked Cairstine that her father would consider Athol. His reputation was no secret, and it proved her father’s desperation. Gavan Maclean was a sickly man who perpetually appeared to be on his deathbed. Cairstine admonished herself for briefly thinking he would be the best candidate since he might die before he consummated the marriage. Cairstine resolved to pray that none of the men accepted.
“Are you listening to me?” Edward’s voice permeated Cairstine’s thoughts, and she realized she hadn’t noticed her father was still speaking.
“My apologies, Father. I remembered what I know aboot Gavan Maclean and Athol MacDonald.” She couldn’t keep from shuddering the latter’s name. Her father noticed, and Cairstine sensed her reaction bothered him.
“What do you ken of Athol MacDonald?”
“Father, he drinks too heavily when he’s at court, and I’ve heard it’s the same at home. He killed a woman who worked in a Stirling tavern. He strangled her when she turned down his advances.” Cairstine swallowed before mumbling, “He terrifies me.”
“Lass,” Edward eased his tone as he watched his normally stalwart daughter retreat into a shell at the mention of the prospective groom. “I will rescind my offer if he should express interest. It isn’t my intention for you to ever come to harm. Marriage isn’t meant to be a prison, and I’m not trying to sentence you to a life of misery. My hope is that you can marry a mon who will appreciate you as much as I do your mother, and who can trust and rely upon you as much as I do her.”
Cairstine sat stunned. She’d never heard her father speak fondly of her mother. Cairstine had always assumed that Edward was oblivious to what Davina did to serve the clan. She nodded and forced a weak smile. “Thank you, Father,” Cairstine murmured, but she gathered her nerves and looked her father in the eye.
“Go and see your mother and sister. They’ll be beside themselves wondering whether I chewed you up and spat you out.” Edward offered one of his rare paternal smiles, and the one Cairstine offered in return was genuine.
* * *
“Cair!” Cairstine’s sister ran toward her as Cairstine entered the bedchamber. Her sister’s exuberant welcome formed a pit in Cairstine’s stomach. After the disheartening conversation with her father, Cairstine wasn’t excited to discuss wedding plans or the material they would use to sew their inevitably matching gowns. Cairstine plastered a smile on her face despite feeling anything but eager to play along with her sister’s vivacity. Her sister grasped both of her hands and squeezed. “Cair, you’re just in time. Mama and I were discussing the best cut and embroidery for our accounts.”
“That sounds lovel
y,” Cairstine tried to infuse enthusiasm into her voice, but she feared it fell flat. Cairstine looked around the chamber she had spent many hours in and at the bed, which she and her sister often shared when one of them was scared at night. While everything seemed familiar, it also seemed so foreign. After two years at court and the anticipation of joining a nunnery, walking into her sister’s room no longer gave her a sense of belonging. She caught her mother watching, but she couldn’t interpret the expression on the older woman’s face. It appeared to be a combination of understanding, regret, and acceptance. Davina patted the bed beside her as she moved to make space for Cairstine to sit at the foot. Cairstine leaned against her mother when Davina wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the crown of her head. Her mother’s scent was the only thing that felt wholly familiar and comforting. She closed her eyes, holding her tears at bay, so she wouldn’t dampen her sister’s mood.
“Let’s talk later, mo ghruagach,” Davina had always called her daughters “my lass,” even as they grew to be adults. The simple use of the word “my” changed the meaning and bolstered Cairstine’s spirit.
“Aye, Mama,” Cairstine returned in just as quiet a whisper as both women watched Fenella twirl with a swath of fabric beneath her chin.
A Rake at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Four Page 12
