Both men pivoted at her voice, and she was certain she saw tears in both warriors’ eyes. Her father looked as though he might reach for her, but he held himself still at the last moment. Cairstine slowed, the rejection and hurt wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation, but it crushed her nonetheless. Eoin pulled her against his side, comforting her with his stoicism and strength. Cairstine accepted his support, leaning on him physically and emotionally.
“Where the devil have you been?” Edward demanded. “What were you doing with my daughter while everyone else was busy trying to keep the entire village from going up in flame? Sneaking off together.”
Eoin pushed Cairstine behind him as he stepped forward. “How dare you assume such aboot your daughter? She just saved six children’s lives and nearly lost her own in the process. If anyone should be ashamed, it’s you.” Eoin took a menacing step toward Edward, and Bram shifted to protect his laird, but Eoin shot him a look of disgust. He spoke so only the other two men could hear. “Speak to her or aboot her like that again, and I won’t care whose father you are.”
Eoin spun around and guided Cairstine toward her mother and sister, the women hugging as Davina stroked Cairstine’s hair. Eoin stood out of the way as mother and daughters continued to embrace. He felt out of place, more like an intruder spying on a private moment. He turned away, but Cairstine stepped away and came to take his hand. She entwined her fingers through his as she recounted the rescue to Davina and Fenella. It was nearly dark by the time they returned to Freuchie, having spent the rest of the day helping the injured, burying the dead, and building temporary shelters for the survivors.
Eoin and Cairstine discovered the children’s parents were alive. They’d all run out of their home when the fires began, but the three youngest ran back in to find their rag dolls their mother made them. The older girl had been holding the babe and couldn’t put him down, so she chased her siblings into the house just as it caught fire. The other child followed his siblings, not wanting to be alone. Then they’d become trapped. The mother and father wept with relief, and Cairstine couldn’t help the pang of jealousy as she watched the father cling to his children while remembering the indifference Edward had shown her. That indifference had quickly morphed into scorn, and that hurt even more.
Cairstine rode back to Freuchie, seated before Eoin on Gun Eagal. She was too tired to manage Twinkle while they galloped. She nestled against Eoin as her eyes dropped closed. He held the reins in one hand while his other arm secured her against his body. His heat comforted her in a way even her mother’s embrace hadn’t. Servants scrambled to lay out food and prepare baths when the filthy and exhausted party arrived home. Cairstine shook her head when she was offered food, but Eoin’s worried expression made her relent. She nibbled, then dragged herself to her chamber, where a maid awaited to help with her bath. She’d never been more relieved to have someone assist her than she was that night. Her arms felt too heavy to lift once she eased into the bath. Her eyes kept drifting shut, and her maid had to rouse her more than once until she could slip into bed. She was asleep before the maid left; the bathtub was forgotten until the next morning.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cairstine slept most of the next day. Her head and body ached from the physical exertion of the day before, and her heart ached for all that the villagers had lost. She was too weary to climb out of bed except for when it was necessary. Her mother visited and reported that Fenella was much the same. Davina showed signs of the toll the day before had taken on her, but she’d experienced such disasters many times over the years since she became Lady Grant. She reassured Cairstine that she should remain in bed as long as she needed. To her relief, Cairstine drifted back to sleep.
Eoin, along with a score and half of men, returned to the village the day after the fire. He worked alongside the Grants as they built crofts for the survivors, of which there were few. Most of the elderly had perished, unable to escape their homes in time. Several of the men fighting the fires suffered mortal wounds from the flames that they tried to subdue before the bucket lines formed. Eoin’s stomach soured as the stench of death lingered everywhere. He’d witnessed such devastation after fires in villages on Gordon land, and he was always reminded how much worse it was than even the most terrible battles he’d been in. Fires didn’t spare women and children, and the innocent lives lost seemed such a waste. By sunset, the Grants were confident that the surviving villages had enough food and shelter to last them until they could send more to help them before the fall harvest.
Eoin returned to the keep, appreciative when Davina whispered Cairstine was well but still abed. He’d thought about her incessantly all day, worrying about how she fared. It relieved him to know she was sleeping off the exhaustion he fought against as the evening moved into night, and he finally retired.
* * *
Soft knocking woke Eoin in the middle of the night. He was disoriented as he looked around the chamber, the banked fire showing him he wasn’t in his bed at Huntly. His memory surged back as he recalled greeting Cairstine in the bailey and the fire in the village. He hurried to wrap his plaid around his waist, foregoing his leine. He tucked in the length of wool as he opened the door a crack. It shocked him to see Cairstine standing on the other side in just her chemise and a plaid wrapped around her shoulder, her bare toes peeking out beneath the hem.
“Will you let me in?” She whispered as she glanced back at the stairs. Davina had given Eoin a chamber on the third floor, one above the laird’s family’s chambers. He stepped aside as she eased into the chamber.
“Cairrie, what are you doing here?”
“I slept all day and missed you coming and going. I woke and realized it was the middle of the night, and I hadn’t seen you. I knew I wouldn’t fall back to sleep until I was certain you were well.” Cairstine looked down at her toes, which she wiggled. “I was worried aboot you.”
Eoin tucked his forefinger beneath her chin and nudged it up. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then her lips. “Sweet lass,” he murmured.
“I feel guilty that I didn’t stay awake on the way back, and I didn’t inquire aboot any injuries you have. You would’ve gotten them because you chased me.”
“Don’t feel guilty, Cairrie,” Eoin murmured. “I don’t love your willingness to rush into danger, but I admire your courage. You did what most people couldn’t. And because of that, you saved those children.”
“And you saved me,” Cairstine gazed at Eoin.
“Always,” Eoin murmured as he lowered his mouth to hers. It began as a slow kiss, but as was always their case, it exploded into passion. Eoin lifted Cairstine and carried her to the bed. “I won’t do aught you don’t want. I won’t touch you anywhere except for where you tell me I may.”
Cairstine nodded, trusting Eoin without reservation as she settled back on the pillow, and he laid on his side. He cupped her jaw as she turned her head to him. His hand didn’t move, but Cairstine grew restless, her breasts heavy and achy. Eoin supported his weight on one arm, so Cairstine drew the hand away from her face, trailing it down her chest until Eoin palmed her breast. She sighed as he kneaded the mound and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tunneling into his hair. Eoin skimmed his hand down her ribs until he reached her hip. He rested his hand there a moment before pulling her body toward his. He shifted so his upper body hovered over hers.
“What do you want, Cairrie?” Eoin’s voice was a seductive purr.
“I don’t know,” she answered guilelessly. “I don’t understand the way my body reacts to you. I don’t know what to say or do.”
“Wheest, little one. I’ll show you. Tell me to stop if you don’t like it.”
“I trust you, Eo.” Cairstine realized she meant what she said. She trusted Eoin not only to protect her and be her friend, but she trusted him never to take advantage of her, to always respect her limits, and to never make her feel guilty for what she wanted and what she couldn’t do.
Eoin ran his hand o
ver her thigh, her chemise blocking him from the satiny skin he remembered lay beneath the linen. When she didn’t balk, he inched the shift high enough for him to tickle the back of her knee. She giggled, but he felt her relax. She smiled at him, appreciation in her eyes. He slipped his hand higher until he could dip his fingers between her thighs just beneath her sheath. He rolled her further toward him and draped her leg over his, waiting for her to object, but she nodded.
“Do you want me to touch you? Like I did at the before?”
“Yes,” Cairstine sighed.
Eoin eased his fingers along her slit, the dew already collecting on her heated nether lips. As she squirmed to get closer, Eoin pressed her onto her back, her legs falling open. She stilled when his fingertip dipped inside her entrance, and Eoin watched her, waiting for her to call a halt to their tryst. But she nodded, inching the chemise to her waist, offering him a view of her mons. Eoin was certain he’d seen nothing as enticing as the brunette thatch of hair at the juncture of her thighs. His thumb grazed her pearl, and her hips lifted to meet his hand, unbidden by her mind.
Eoin understood better than Cairstine how her body reacted to her need. His movements were unhurried, ensuring she could anticipate his next move. Cairstine’s hands explored the bare expanse of his back and chest, her fingers spread as she ran them through the light blond hair that covered his chest. She could tell he spent an impressive amount of time outside without his leine on; the hairs were so blond she nearly couldn’t see them.
Eoin shifted to kneel between her legs, but he kept his body away from hers. He expected the moment of panic that flashed across Cairstine’s face, but when he did nothing to bring their bodies closer, she relaxed. His hands rested on her hips before sliding to her waist where he stilled, letting her grow accustomed to his hands beneath her chemise, where she could no longer see them. She nodded, and the heat from his palms lit a blaze along her ribs until he cupped both breasts in his bare hands. Her head fell back as she arched, pressing into his hands, encouraging him to increase the pressure as he kneaded her breasts.
The temptation to push her shift out of the way and suckle made Eoin’s cock throb, but he knew it was too much too soon. Instead, he feathered his fingertips of one hand along the valley between her breasts and over her belly until he ran them through the thatch of hair that had been luring him since he discovered it. He slid his finger inside her once again, careful not to be too forceful as his thumb circled her nub, increasing the pressure with each spiral.
Cairstine felt her body charging toward the cliff, just as it had the last time they lay together. She recognized the sensation this time and willed her body to completion. She tautened and relaxed various muscles until she felt her release crash over her; the tsunami threatening to wash her into the abyss of senseless pleasure. She clung to Eoin’s shoulders as if he was the only thing that tethered her to Earth. She swallowed the scream that wanted to announce her climax. Her eyes fluttered open, having not realized that she squeezed them shut, and her lust-glazed eyes looked into Eoin’s, catching desire and arousal that surely matched hers. “Can I touch you?” she asked. Eoin’s face looked pained, but he nodded.
Cairstine waited until Eoin lay on his side once more before she tentatively reached her hand out. Her fingertips and thumb brushed the outline of his rod, still covered by his plaid. She noticed his breathing sped up when she pressed her palm to his ridge. When she wrapped her hand around it, she was certain she didn’t imagine his eyes crossing before snapping shut, the cords in his throat straining. Cairstine watched Eoin’s reaction to her touch, mesmerized that she had such an effect on the hardened warrior. She’d understood what passed between them in the storage building the day he arrived, but it was more mechanics than the reason. Her mother had explained to her just after her courses began at twelve that a man’s seed spilled from his length when he was joined with a woman, and that this created babes. She’d been too embarrassed to ask Eoin how it happened if they weren’t coupling. As his length throbbed in her hand, she wondered if it might happen again.
Cairstine bit her lip, debating whether she should touch Eoin beneath his plaid. He seemed at ease with her touching him, but doubt niggled at the back of her mind, reminding her that he was twice her size. She never imagined Eoin would hurt her, but the old panic that had been a constant companion whenever she kissed a man reared its head. It had politely laid dormant after the first time she spooked when she felt Eoin’s arousal press against her, but now it rushed back with force.
Eoin lightly clasped Cairstine’s wrist, sensing her changing mood. “You don’t have to do aught more. I told you before, watching you brings me pleasure.”
“But that can’t possibly be the same. I want to. I—I’m nervous,” she admitted, embarrassment making her want to pull away.
“I will lay here and not move while you explore however you want.” Even if it kills me.
Eoin settled onto his back and clutched the covers in both hands as Cairstine nodded and ran her hands over his cock once more. She bit her lip as she watched Eoin’s face tense as he tried to anticipate her next move. She shifted her hand to the hem of his plaid and inched it higher, much like Eoin had done with her chemise. Her fingertips brushed his inner thigh, and Eoin shivered. She continued to observe his reaction to her touch, his chest rising and falling faster as her hand neared his rod. Her fingertip brushed against the hot satin that covered the pulsing length, and how the skin could be so soft when it felt like iron beneath Eoin’s plaid mesmerized her. She took a deep breath before wrapping her palm around his bare skin. Eoin groaned as his cock twitched, and suddenly it was no longer Eoin she was holding but three men pinning her to the ground while the fourth pressed his rod between her legs. Cairstine scrambled backwards as Eoin’s body tensed with frustration before he opened his eyes and witnessed the horror in Cairstine’s. He calmed himself before whispering “Cairrie?”
“I—I—I can’t,” she stuttered. She rolled off the bed, but Eoin followed her. He didn’t touch her but moved to stand before her. “I thought I could. I wanted to. But I told you, I’m broken. I can’t be the woman you want.”
“I have never wanted a woman more than I want you,” Eoin whispered.
Cairrie stared at him, dumbfounded. “But I can’t even touch you without wanting to run and hide.”
“What happened? Tell me,” Eoin’s concern filled his tone, and Cairstine closed her eyes, shaking her head as tears leaked down her cheeks. “I’m going to hug you, Carrie. That’s all. I’ll let go if you want me to.” Eoin inched closer until his arms went around her waist and back.
“I thought I was fine. Your body fascinated me and how you seemed to react to me made me curious. But one moment it was you, and then next I was certain I was back in the woods being pinned down. That the groan I heard and the twitch I felt were that mon’s, not yours. It was too close to the same.” Cairstine clung to Eoin, disappointed in herself and her failure. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry I can’t be the right woman for you, Eo. I want to be, but you were wrong. I am broken.”
“You are not broken, mo leannan. Coupling is not the most important thing in life.”
Cairstine’s laugh was hollow. “You may be the only mon under the age of eighty to say that.”
“Cairrie, if it were more important than you, I would have bedded a woman when I returned to Huntly. The thought didn’t cross my mind. It was too filled with thoughts of you.” Eoin whispered, embarrassed to admit the truth.
“I thought of you too. All the time. But this can’t happen again, Eo. I shouldn’t have come here tonight. It was a mistake, and I led you on. I—”
“Stop, Cairstine.” The edge in Eoin’s voice made her snap her mouth closed. “You didn’t lead me on. I didn’t assume you came here to seduce me. I’m a grown mon. I made my own choices and I did them knowing there were limits. I accept that.” Eoin stepped back from Cairstine but didn’t let go. “If this is too much for you, if you don’t want this,
then I won’t push you.”
“It hurts too much, Eo. I can’t stand how I can’t move on, how I’m stuck in this bog and don’t know what to do. I can’t keep touching you, only to disappoint us both.”
“You’re not disappointing me,” Eoin reassured.
“And you’re not telling the truth,” Cairstine countered. “I will play the doting betrothed, or soon-to-be-betrothed, but I can’t kiss you or touch you anymore. It’s tearing me apart.”
Eoin nodded, understanding Cairstine’s reasons, sharing the same feelings as her. He let her go, and she moved to the door, but she looked back at him when he bid her goodnight. She nodded, offering him a weak smile before slipping out of the chamber. Eoin looked back at the bed and sighed. He’d been certain he’d made progress that night, but it all came to a screeching halt in a matter of moments. He’d done the one thing he swore never to do: terrify her when they were being intimate. He hadn’t intended to, but the damage happened all the same. His bollocks ached, his cock still aroused but unsatisfied. He snatched the linen square from the table that held an ewer of water and a bowl. He stood, gazing blankly out the window, as he relieved the pain in his bollocks but couldn’t ease the pain in his chest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Eoin took his place on the dais after Prime, his eyes still bleary despite having been awake since Lauds. His first day at Freuchie had been irregular, but he realized as he bowed his head while the clan’s priest blessed the morning meal that he would spend nearly as much time at Mass as he had at Dundee Priory. He thanked God and all the angels that the Grants didn’t observe Matins. After Cairstine’s nighttime visit, it took hours for Eoin to drift into dreamless slumber. He’d tossed and turned until he fell into a deep sleep, the bells for the first morning Mass waking him. He’d scrambled to dress and make his way to the kirk, where he slipped in as the last people found seats among the pews.
A Rake at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Four Page 17
