by Amy Jarecki
Eoin shrugged. “It is not his place to have an opinion. Besides, he’s sworn fealty to you, and should want for your happiness.” He pulled her into the cottage and shut the door, grinning with feral desire. Before she could say a word, he wrapped her in his embrace. “I’ve missed you ever so much.”
Helen rose up on her toes and met his lips with a kiss. “I’m ever so glad you’re here.”
“And how is Miss Maggie? Well, I pray?”
“Aye, she’s sitting up now.”
Eoin grinned and looked at the bairn who was indeed sitting on the sheepskin. “Och, the lassie is growing stronger by the day.” He crossed the floor in four easy strides and pulled Maggie into his arms. She squealed as he spun her in a circle. “You are growing as bonny as your mother.”
Helen set to preparing the evening meal while Eoin told of the events of Alexander MacDonald’s end. She ground her teeth when Eoin described how he’d held the men back and allowed Aleck to fight, and then detailed his bravado afterward.
“You mean the king granted Sir Aleck lands without asking for the full story? And half the MacIain men watched the fighting from the safety of their galley?”
“My men had the skirmish in hand.” Eoin’s shoulder ticked up. “And as for the king, Sir Aleck was standing over MacDonald’s body with a bloody dagger in his hand. ’Twas obvious he’d done the killing.”
“But you and your men made it possible.”
“Duncan knows that.”
“Aye, but does the king?”
Eoin slid his hand across her waist and nuzzled into her ear. “Does it matter?”
Helen sighed. “I suppose not. You’ve land a plenty and are aligned with one of the strongest clans in Scotland.”
Eoin’s gaze narrowed and he stepped away. A sudden coolness coursed over Helen’s skin. Had she misspoken?
He heaved a troubled sigh. “I’ve no castle to give you, Lady Helen.”
“Riches, a grand keep?” She drew her brows together. “After all this time we’ve spent together, you think I want a castle?”
Taking another step back, he spread his hands to his sides. “But you have lived in opulence all your life.”
She gestured to the walls of the meager hunting cottage. “Aside from the past three months. And to be perfectly honest, I’ve been happier here than any place I’ve ever lived.”
His chin ticked up as he took a step closer this time. “Clan Gregor is a proud people. Our blood runs thick. Honor runs deep with us.”
“As it does throughout the Highlands.” Helen stepped within inches of Eoin and grasped his hand. “Are you worried I’ll be unhappy if I haven’t dozens of servants to direct?”
That twitch returned to his jaw. “Helen, I look at you standing over the cooking fire and I ken you were bred for a better life.”
“But I enjoy cooking. I enjoy staying busy.”
“Then as we’ve discussed, you will consider becoming Lady MacGregor?” The tension in his jaw eased.
“Given our…” She glanced toward the bedchamber. “Interludes, I assumed it would go without saying.”
Eoin grinned and tugged her into his arms. “I give you my solemn vow you will never go without. And you will have servants to cook and clean.”
“As long as I am by your side, I should want for nothing.”
He captured her lips with a kiss. Slowly plying her mouth with languid strokes of his tongue, Helen melted like butter in the sun.
Maggie squealed.
Helen forced herself to pull away and hold Eoin at arm’s length. “She’s hungry.”
He licked his lips. “As am I.”
***
With his belly full and his mind eased with the effects of Helen’s fruity wine, Eoin watched as she put Maggie down for the night. Helen wore a white linen apron atop her woolen kirtle. Though a simple ensemble, she still looked like a queen. Eoin grinned at the way her bottom curved against the skirts when she bent forward.
He had a notion to cross the floor and sink his fingers into those womanly hips. Helen bent further and kissed the bairn’s forehead.
Eoin growled. It would be so easy to lift her skirts and slide into her from behind. But Lady Helen would be mortified. He swiped a hand across his eyes to change his train of thought. He would never do anything that would make her uncomfortable. She’d endured far too much.
Now that Eoin had earned her love, he would do nothing to jeopardize it. But before his mind caught up with his body, he’d crossed the floor and placed his hands on those irresistible hips.
Helen glanced back and smiled, touching her finger to her lips.
He looked around her. The bairn’s eyes were already closed.
After one last tuck of the bedclothes, Helen straightened and took a step back, pressing her alluring buttocks against him. Aye, this must be heaven. He rubbed his cock between the crease of her bottom. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered in a low growl.
She turned and grasped his hand. “Come.”
All too willingly, Eoin followed her into the bedchamber.
Helen smoothed her palms over his chest. “I know not what’s come over me. Every day I think about doing this.” She ran her finger over the hard ridge of his manhood. Her hands trembled as she unfastened his belt. They worked quickly to untie laces, with clothes cascading to the floor until they both stood completely naked.
The image of her hips as she bent over consumed his mind. He dared ask, “Do you trust me?”
“Aye. I trust you with my life.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her back to him. Then he reached around and slid his hand down between her breasts, over her abdomen and stopped at the apex of her sex.
She released a gasp.
Ever so gently, he pushed his finger between her folds and caressed her. Oh, how much he loved being completely naked with this woman.
Helen rested her head against him. “You ken how to make me ravenous with need.”
“No more than you do to me.” He worked more of his hand between her thighs. “Open for me.”
Her head shot up. “Here? N-not on the bed?”
He chuckled. “I think you’ll enjoy what I have in mind.” Maintaining a steady motion, he caressed her inner thighs. “We’ll only proceed as long as you’re comfortable,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll not encourage you to do anything that doesn’t feel right.”
She gave him a shy grin and parted her legs. How she could bring him to his knees with her demure mien. He made love to her with the fingers of his right hand, while swirling his thumb around her nipple with his left. Helen responded to his advances with seductive churning of her hips.
Her provocative movement made a bit of his seed leak from the tip of his cock. Bending his knees, he slid himself between her buttocks, her slick moisture spreading along his manhood. Helen arched her back and her delectable bottom pressed against him. “What are you doing?”
He rocked his hips to show her what he wanted, while he continued to finger that taut button that was driving her mad. “I’d like to try to enter you from behind. But only if it pleases you.”
She rolled her hips atop him. “Is that possible?”
“If you have an adventurous spirit.” He slipped his hand away from her breast and smoothed it down her spine. On the way back up, he encouraged her to lean forward. “Place your hands on the bed.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder with a seductive grin. “Being adventurous is new for me—and a bit scary.”
“And ’tis my duty to ensure you enjoy it.” He grasped his cock and guided himself to the edge of her opening.
Helen moaned.
Holding on to her hips he watched himself disappear inside her. Then he reached forward and swirled his finger around her mons. “Does it feel good for you?”
“Mm.” She ground her hips into him, taking him deeper. “I like your idea of trying new things.” Her words came out breathless.
His thighs shu
ddered as he watched himself slide in and out, maintaining himself on the ragged edge of control.
Eoin focused on Helen’s passion until her breathing sped and her buttocks shook against his legs. Her mewls made his heartbeat race. As she gasped, nearing her peak, he let himself go and increased his thrusts. Working his finger faster, Helen cried out and arched her back.
Her quavering insides milked him until he no longer had control. Thrusting, watching her naked bottom spread open to him with her back arched, his seed erupted from his body with a bellowing roar.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Helen lay in Eoin’s arms content and satiated, like she imagined a woman should always be when at rest with her man. With Maggie sound asleep in her crate, and her annulment granted, Helen hadn’t a care. “The only thing I miss is my lute,” she whispered. “I love music.”
“Me as well. I love to listen to you play…and sing. The last time I heard you, I could have sworn you could contend with the king’s minstrels.”
She wiggled against him. “I wouldn’t go that far.” Though he exaggerated, Helen did enjoy hearing his compliment.
“I don’t lie,” he continued. “I would have been quite happy to have reclined in my seat and listened to you all evening.”
“Och, that’s very nice of you to say.” She craned her neck and looked at him. His face was peppered by the dark shadow of a new beard, giving him a rather devilish look. “I remember you played the pipes rather well. Do you oft have a chance to play them of late?”
He picked up a lock of her hair and drew it across his nose, as if he couldn’t get enough of her scent. “Definitely not as of late—the occasional fete or funeral is about all I can manage. Bagpipes are a bit clumsy to tote around on the back on my horse.”
She chuckled. “I remember when you and Duncan used to practice in the hall at Kilchurn.”
He trumpeted out his nose. “Don’t remind me. We sounded like a pack of howling cats.”
She rolled with laughter at the memory of it. “Especially Duncan. I don’t think he ever got the hang of it.”
“Nay, piping didn’t have enough action for him. He’d make every excuse not to practice.”
“Then why did you become so good at it?”
Eoin smirked stared off across the chamber. “I guess when I think about my days of fostering with so many talented lads, piping was something I could do better than the others. Duncan, Sean, your brother, John, and I were quite a foursome, and very competitive. But not a one could touch me when it came to the bagpipes and knowing that made me want to practice all the more.”
“Funny, but I always thought you were the best at everything. You were the only one who could give Duncan a walloping in the sparring ring.”
“Och, believe me, he doled out plenty. If I had to choose a victor after all our years of clashing swords, I’d say we were pretty evenly matched. But he’s a year older than I. That made a difference in the beginning.” Eoin held up his finger. “Though not with the piping.”
Helen threaded her fingers through Eoin’s and marveled at how much larger he was than her—in every way. His hands were enormous and made hers appear almost childlike. Odd, but she couldn’t even recall what Aleck’s hands looked like, or whether they were large or small. Most certainly, she hadn’t ever shared such a tender moment with him. Such a pity. And I will stop thinking about that vile man from here out.
“What else do you like to do?” Eoin asked.
Helen blinked, drawing herself back to the enjoyment of the moment. “I love to read. Mother always said if she didn’t find something for me to do, I would spend every waking hour with my nose in a book.”
“If only there were a plethora of books available for such an endeavor.”
“My sentiments exactly.” She brushed her fingers along the fine dark hairs on his arm. “I must have read every book in Kilchurn’s library dozens of times.”
“My word, you do love to read.”
“Aye. Gyllis brought a book for me to read just the other day—a romantic tale.”
“Now that sounds interesting.” He kissed her temple. “Would you read to me?”
“You wouldn’t grow bored?”
“Not if you were reading, my love.”
Helen slipped off the bed, tiptoed into the main chamber and retrieved the book from the table. When she returned, Eoin had situated the candelabra to provide good light, and arranged the pillows for comfort.
How wonderful it was to be with a man who actually cared enough to do simple things like fluffing the pillows.
He opened his arms and beckoned her to him. “Come and tell me what this story’s about.”
“It would be my pleasure, sir knight.” Helen climbed up and snuggled into his arms. She opened the cover and read the title. “The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle.” She looked at Eoin and grinned. “The story begins when the mystical knight, Sir Gromer Somer Joure, challenges King Arthur to discover what women desire most, or face dire consequences.”
He rested his chin on her shoulder and peered at the pages. “You have me entranced already.”
“Oh, believe me, it gets so much more riveting.”
As Helen read, Eoin listened to every word as if he were captivated by the fairy tale. How a rugged and powerful warrior such as the Chieftain of Clan Gregor could be completely enthralled by one of her books amazed her. He suited her in every way. He treated her respectfully and he loved Maggie. He’d shown her what it was like for a man and a woman who were truly in love to express their feelings in the joining of their bodies. When she lay with Eoin it was not sinful. Their love was a gift from heaven and she would cherish every moment they shared for the rest of their days.
***
The following day was too cold for a bath outside and Helen asked Eoin to bring the wooden basin inside. “Miss Maggie’s skin is chafing. I know they say ’tis bad to bathe a bairn more than once a month, but where Maggie’s concerned, her skin always looks better after a bath.”
“I say do whatever is best for the lass.” Eoin put the big basin beside the fire and picked up a bucket. “I’ll go to the burn and fill this.”
“Thank you.” Helen looked in the kettle suspended over the fire. “The water’s nearly boiled.”
From her rug, Maggie clapped her hands.
“Are you looking forward to the bath?”
“Babababababababa.”
“I agree.” Helen lifted the babe into her arms. “I rather enjoy a tub of warm water, myself.”
The wind whipped through the door before Eoin stepped inside. “My oath, I think we may have our first snow soon.”
Helen shivered. “Oh no. We cannot weather a harsh winter this year.”
“’Tis still early.” He strode across the floorboards and dumped the bucket of water into the basin. “If we do see snow, it should only be a dusting and will be gone by the morrow.”
“I suppose it is God’s will, whatever happens.” Helen inclined her head toward the kettle. “Would you please pour in the hot water as well?”
“My pleasure m’lady.”
Once the bath was filled, Eoin swirled his hand in the water. “’Tis nice and warm. Perhaps I should set another kettle to boiling in case…ah…” The brawny Highlander could make her melt with a single arch of his eyebrow.
Helen chuckled. “I don’t suppose it would be proper to bathe in front of the wee one.”
“Are you jesting? I doubt she’d mind.”
Helen set the bairn in the tub while Eoin headed outside with the kettle. “He’s a bit brazen to suggest each of us strip down and bare our nether parts in the main chamber.”
Maggie bubbled and splashed her hands in the water.
“You seem to think there’s nothing wrong with that idea in the slightest.” Helen reached for a cake of soap. “I’ll tell you, nothing of the like would have been allowed at Kilchurn Castle. Why, if one of my mother’s daughters so much as left her chamber wearing but a shi
ft, she would be sorely punished.”
“Bubub,” Maggie replied, reaching for the soap.
Helen held it out. The bairn squeezed the cake with both hands. The blasted think slipped up and hit Helen between the eyes. “You little rascal.”
Maggie chirped with laughter.
Eoin pushed through the door and hastened to the hearth. “I’ll just add a couple of logs to the fire. ’Tis really starting to blow a gale.”
Helen used a cloth to finish bathing Maggie and avoid further incidents with the soap.
Eoin finished his task and sat across from her. A rolling laugh snorted through his nose. “What happened to you?”
Helen touched her fingers to her forehead and wiped off a blob of soap. “You think that’s funny do you?”
Maggie splashed her hands and water sloshed across Eoin’s shirt. He gaped at the bairn. “So now you’re after me are you?” He dipped his fingers in the water and flicked it at Helen. “I think Miss Maggie rather enjoys getting us wet.”
As if on cue, Maggie clapped both hands in the water and, with rolling laughter, doused them both.
“Look at this.” Helen gestured to her soaked apron with a snort. “I do believe the wee lass wants us to join her whether ’tis proper or nay.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aleck had wasted no time establishing his rule over his new lands on the Isle of Islay. Only after he’d felt confident there would be no retribution by the locals did he finally head for home to celebrate his victory at Mingary. Everything had fallen into place for him in the past month. Aleck threw his head back and laughed. He cared not what his men might think. He’d put up with Eoin MacGregor’s contemptuous attitude for six months, but who had come out the champion? Eoin was a lowly chieftain who paid fealty to the Campbells of Glenorchy. The smug bastard didn’t even own a castle and Aleck doubted he could afford to pay a mason to build one.
Aleck laughed again. Oh, how he’d used the MacGregors to fight off Alexander MacDonald’s men. The greatest ruse? Eoin had made it all possible. He and Sir Grant had fought off the henchmen while Aleck raced ahead and challenged Alexander himself. God bless Grant, he was a good hand.
