* * *
Both breathed a silent breath of relief when they entered the Great Hall. They weren’t certain of the time, but there were few people in the gathering area. Those who were there were busy working.
“We still haven’t eaten,” Cairstine mused. “I feel badly leaving all that food in the chamber. I’ll gather some things from the kitchens and send servants to pack up what’s on the table abovestairs. We could picnic again. Unless you planned to go to the lists.”
“I’d prefer the picnic. I’m not interested in another run-in with Fingal quite yet. At some point soon, I need to send a missive to my father to bring him abreast of the situation.”
“Does he know?” Cairstine blinked rapidly.
“Aye, he does. He kens your father intended to ask him if he’d be interested in marrying you, and he kens that I’ve come to help you avoid being betrothed to someone else.”
“Does he know that we’re pretending?” Cairstine kept her voice hushed.
“He does. Cairrie, I have told no one what happened to you, but my father has been laird for a long time. He’s had to dole out punishment to more than one mon and comfort more than one woman. I think he guessed.”
Cairstine nodded. “I expected as much.”
Eoin took Cairstine’s arm and guided her toward the kitchens. The tension hadn’t evaporated between them, but talking abated the heated frustration. Eoin pushed the door open to the kitchen, but they both stopped as a woman’s voice floated to them.
“They’ve been up there doing it like rabbits, I tell ye. Who would have thunk Lady All High and Mighty would be nay better than a whore getting her skirts tossed?” a woman kneading bread with her back to the couple spoke.
“Aye, that one’s run screeching from marriage, and the vera first day, she’s nay where to be seen as her mon plows her.”
Cairstine felt Eoin go rigid as they listened. A couple of women noticed them and elbowed each other, jutting their chins in Cairstine’s and Eoin’s direction. But not all saw the hint.
“What I dinna understand is how a braw mon like him even wanted such a prude. He has appetites she canna fill. He needs a real woman the likes of me to ride.”
“Enough!” Eoin slammed his fist on a table, making all the women, even the ones who saw them, jump. “The only thing I need from any of ye is for ye to shut the bluidy hell up and cease this clishmaclaver. Ye will never speak of yer lady like that again. Ye will make a line and apologize. I dinna give a fig if ye said aught or nae. Those who remained silent are just as guilty for nae doing the right thing. I will bring this up to both the laird and lady. I hope ye dinna need yer employment in the keep that badly.”
Eoin’s disgust was obvious as he stood livid, his brogue in full force as he seethed. Cairstine would have preferred to slip out of the kitchen unnoticed, but it was too late for that. She raised her chin and straightened her spine, adopting her haughtiest courtly expression as one woman after another dipped a curtsy and mumbled an apology.
Cairstine asked the head cook to prepare a basket for them and whispered her own apologies for the food they left untouched. The woman offered her a knowing smile and nodded her head. She set women to work packing a picnic basket while Cairstine went back to Eoin’s side. His temper still high, Eoin narrowed his eyes as he swept them across women who varied from defiant to cowering. He’d stood behind Cairstine with his hands on her shoulders while the women humbled themselves, but now he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side.
“Did any of ye nae hear of how I arrived, demanding to marry Lady Cairstine? If ye didna, ask around. Keep yer rude comments and speculations aboot what I do or dinna need or want to yerself. I amnae interested in any woman other than ma wife. Dinna bother being coy with me, or I will be rude to ye. Dinna bother goading Lady Cairstine by flirting with me. And dinna, for God’s sake, pretend like ye dinna ken what I mean. I recognize all of ye from yer various trips in and out of our chamber. Why on God’s green earth would I want any woman when I have Lady Cairstine?”
Eoin took the basket a maid brought to them and guided Cairstine through the kitchens and out the side door. They passed the bailey as people smiled and waved to the supposedly newly married couple. Despite the debacle in their chamber, Cairstine felt like a bride. The congratulations and warm wishes made her blush, and they made her remember how special her clan was to her and how Freuchie would always be home after all. Eoin’s vigorous defense surprised her. He’d been irate on her behalf, and she didn’t doubt that had they been men, he would have pummeled them all. But she’d felt proud of him, and it felt like she had a doting husband. As they passed through the postern gate, Cairstine expected Eoin would drop his arm from around her waist, the pretense no longer needed, but it remained in place. If anything, he pulled her closer. She leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Cairrie, I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s rare that I get that angry, but there’s something aboot people mistreating you that makes me the devil come to rain down hell’s fury.” Calmer, his burr flavored his accent once more, but no longer commanded his words.
Cairstine nodded, and they remained quiet until they made their way to the spot where Ailis’s house once stood. They spread out their picnic and chatted about Eoin’s home. Cairstine had told him stories the day before, so she was eager to hear his. When they finished eating, they laid back and watched the clouds pass overhead. At times, they enjoyed companionable silence, not touching but near one another. When they accepted that they couldn’t linger any longer, they returned through the primary gate, taking the longer way around. They enjoyed the walk, and Eoin promised to take her on a longer one the next morning. As they walked to the keep, they passed the lists. Cairstine stopped and watched the men for a moment before she turned to Eoin.
“I want you to teach me to fight.” Cairstine announced. “I don’t mean with a sword, but maybe with dirks. How to defend myself, so I’m never vulnerable again.”
Eoin’s chest burned thinking there would be a time when he would no longer be Cairstine’s protector and her misguided belief that learning to fight would never make her vulnerable. “All warriors, regardless of size or experience, are vulnerable. Remembering that keeps you alive because it keeps you alert. I’ll teach you, Cairrie. But I need you to understand and agree that what I teach you is to defend yourself long enough to get away. You won’t be able to put up an equal fight against a mon larger than you. Not in skirts and not without a sword. I’ll make sure you can get free and run.”
Cairstine nodded. “When can we start?”
“Tomorrow. We’ll go for that walk, and while we’re out, I will teach you. But I have one condition.”
“Oh?”
“We bring Bram.”
“What? Why?” Cairstine didn’t like having a chaperone. She’d been eager for more time with Eoin like they’d shared that day. And despite her fondness for Bram, she thought she was finished having a nursemaid watching over her, at least while Eoin was there.
“For two reasons. I want you to see me demonstrate moves. And I want someone guarding us, so I can focus on you. I want you to learn, and I don’t want to accidentally injure you because I’m splitting my attention between you and keeping watch.” Eoin’s expression showed he wouldn’t budge, and Cairstine had to admit he had valid points. She nodded, and they carried on to the keep.
Eoin handed the basket off to a maid he shot a warning glare. The woman skittered away just as Lady Davina approached.
“Cook tells me there was an incident in the kitchens today,” Davina’s soft tone took the edge off the blunt greeting.
“Aye, Eoin and I heard some unfavorable things,” Cairstine looked at the floor, but before Davina could reply, Eoin leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of what they accused us of. As far as anyone knows, we are married. It’s our right as husband and wife to spend as much or as little together as we want, doing whatever we want. K
eep your chin up, mo leannan, or I’ll chew them up and spit them out all over again. I won’t have you cowed. Understood?”
Cairstine looked up at Eoin and nodded. She met her mother’s eyes; the woman scrutinizing the couple’s interaction. Cairstine feared her mother would guess at any moment that the handfast wasn’t real. She also worried that her mother would object to Eoin’s reaction in the kitchen.
“Cairstine, your father is aware of what happened, and I addressed the issue. We are shorthanded now by a few, but I think they took Eoin’s warning to heart far more than they did mine. I’d say more than one of those women was jealous of you, but for a different reason than how it sounded. I think they wished they had a mon so devoted to them.” Davina smiled, but Cairstine caught the speculation in the older woman’s eyes.
The evening meal passed uneventfully, with Fingal on patrol and everyone else interested in other topics. Eoin arranged for Bram to meet them in the morning. A broad smile, along with an emphatic nod, was his only response. Since Cairstine bathed that morning and Eoin didn’t visit the lists, there was no need to endure the agony of another bath time. The day fatigued Cairstine, who fell into an undisturbed sleep. Eoin dozed more than slept, fearful Cairstine would have nightmares again. When morning came, Eoin slipped out of the chamber as Cairstine woke, telling her he would wait in the passageway as she got ready for the day.
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 Eagal in 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 c
an 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.
A Rake at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Four Page 21