“Aye it is, especially to keep a man’s sword and dirk from rusting, however, pikes and battleaxes do not always receive the same care.”
She looked beyond Eoin to ensure they were out of earshot of his men. “Did you speak to Sir Aleck this morn?” she whispered.
His blue eyes squinted a little in the morning light. “For a brief moment. After a messenger arrived, he hastened away.”
“And said nothing about…” She rolled her eyes toward the keep.
“Nary a word.” He grinned. Blast, how his grin could unravel her wits. “Though I doubt he’d confide anything to me.”
“Fortunate, I suppose.” With a nod, Helen spotted Mr. Keith up on the wall-walk and waved to catch his attention.
“Ah,” Eoin’s deep voice rumbled behind her, oddly making gooseflesh rise on her skin. “If it would please your ladyship, I’d enjoy escorting you to the village this day.”
Mr. Keith waved. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Is all well?”
“Aye, m’lady,” he hollered.
Normally Helen would never raise her voice, but she’d needed to act quickly. She returned her attention to Sir Eoin. “Why thank you. It would be an honor to be accompanied by the Chieftain of Clan Gregor. I’m sure the townsfolk would be very impressed indeed.”
He gestured forward with that handsome grin. “If you are ready, may I carry your basket?”
“My thanks.” Not even Sir Grant had offered to carry her basket on their many trips to the village.
Helen led the way along the path she’d traveled countless times. When sufficiently far enough away from the castle gates, she glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one else had followed. “What is the suspicious activity that was reported?”
“Nothing too alarming, just undue movement of galleys, similar to that which I saw with my men on our last sortie.”
“I do hope everyone will be all right.”
He ambled beside her with an easy stride. “I doubt there’ll be any altercation at all, m’lady. Sir Aleck wanted to see things for himself.”
Helen cringed at the mention of her husband. After last eve, she shuddered at what Sir Eoin must think of her.
They walked for a bit and he shifted the basket to his far arm. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of my men, but would you mind if I had a look at your bruises?”
Stopping, she clapped her hands either side of her linen wimple. She and Glenda had chosen it because silk would have been too sheer. “I wouldn’t want to take this off. Without my chambermaid, it would be difficult to secure it back in place.”
He smoothed his fingers atop the back of her hands. “We don’t need to take it off. I just would like to see the marks now that we’re in the light.”
“But why?” she asked. “Looking at them will not make them fade any faster.”
“No.” His eyebrows pinched as if he were very concerned. “However, there may come a time when I need to bear witness to Aleck’s treachery.”
That made her mouth go dry. Helen nodded and lowered her hands. Yes, people at the castle had made offhand remarks, but no one had ever alluded to helping her. The thought was rather terrifying, yet liberating. “Glenda said I looked awful.”
He examined the linen appreciatively. “She did a wonderful job with your wimple. No one will know.” He pulled out the right side and encouraged her to angle her face toward the sun. “Devil’s bones, it does look far worse than it did last eve.” He tried to tug on the neck cloth, but it was wound too tight.
Helen dropped her gaze to her toes. “’Tis humiliating.”
“Does it hurt you?”
“Aye, but only when I smile.”
He raised her chin with the crook of his finger until their gazes met. “’Tis a folly, for you are most beautiful when you smile.”
Mercy, must Eoin look so fetching when saying something as nice as that? Didn’t he know Helen wasn’t accustomed to praise of any sort? She cast her gaze to the path and patted her wimple where he’d mussed it. “We should keep going.”
Chapter Twelve
Eoin enjoyed the fresh air and walking through the pastoral countryside with Helen more than he should have. The leaves on the trees shimmered, alive with a bright verdant color only seen in the Highlands in spring. The season must have enlivened his very soul, because he felt like humming—not because he’d just examined Helen’s bruise—the fact that Aleck had struck her abhorred him. But walking beside the lovely lady made him a bit giddy. Who wouldn’t want to hum with birds singing while puffs of clouds gently sailed above? The mere idea made him thank the stars his men weren’t there to give him a good ribbing.
Perhaps that’s why the old hens call it spring fever.
If only he could talk to Helen more about last night’s incident with Aleck, but she seemed so reluctant and embarrassed. Bloody hell, he hated seeing bruises on her porcelain skin. What had Eoin concerned the most, however, was her future safety. When Glenda had found him last eve, she’d told him Aleck had grown more abrasive since the birth of their daughter. What if, God forbid, Helen gave birth to yet another lass? What reprehensible acts would MacIain resort to then?
Lady Helen might have the will of a warrior woman, but in stature, she was fragile. In no way could she withstand beatings from that barbarian. Not that any woman should ever be forced to endure Aleck MacIain’s ire.
Helen pointed ahead. “I always stop at Mistress Cate’s cottage on the way into town. She’s an elderly lady and cannot move about all that well.”
“Does she live alone?”
“Aye, but her son and daughter-in-law till her lands. They live in the village and check on her every day.”
Eoin followed Helen up an overgrown path to a small lime-washed cottage with a thatched roof.
“Mistress Cate?” Helen rapped on the door. “I’ve brought you some cheese today.”
Eoin grinned. Lady Helen might be married to the Devil’s spawn, but she was certainly an angel. It was good to see her carrying out charitable activities on behalf of the clan. That was an important role of the chieftain—to provide safety and support for his people. Unfortunate not all chieftains remember that fact.
“A moment,” a voice called from inside. When the door opened, a haggard face framed by grey hair, crinkled more by a toothless grin. “Good morrow, Lady Helen.” The woman’s gaze inspected Eoin with a hint of unease. “And where is Sir Grant today?”
Helen graciously introduced Sir Eoin as her dear friend from Glen Orchy. And when she rattled off his title, Mistress Cate’s apprehension spread into an adoring grin. Stepping aside, she promptly invited them inside. The stone-walled cottage comprised one room with a bed on one end and a cooking hearth on the other with a table and benches in between.
The elderly woman ambled toward the hearth. “I’ve some onion broth over the fire. You will stay and have a bowl with me?”
“Of course we will.” Helen sat and motioned for Eoin to do the same. “And how is your rheumatism?”
Mistress Cate bent down and picked up an iron ladle. “Coming good now the weather is warming.”