She shook her finger. “Yes, you should have.”
He tossed the reins around the post outside the door. “Please accept my deepest apology. The thought didn’t cross my feeble mind.”
“Did I say how worried I have been?”
He nodded. “Aye.” Then he tried to reach for her. “It was wrong of me to allow so much time to pass without sending word.”
She clasped her hands behind her back as if not yet ready to make amends. Then she looked away, her bottom lip trembling. “The last time you were here, everything was so heavenly, so perfect…a-and I knew you had to go away, but anxiously awaited your return. And then when you didn’t come for sennights, I began to think of awful things.” She gasped “Anything could have happened. Your galley could have sunk, you could have been severely injured in the fighting—or killed.” Helen wrung her hands. “I do not think I could have survived if something horrible had happened to you.”
A tear dribbled from her eye and streamed down her lovely cheek.
Eoin’s heart twisted. The lass was so fragile. He pulled her into his arms. “My God, Helen, I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing by not sending a missive, but seeing you so distraught, I realize how mistaken I was.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Do not ever do that to me again.”
“I promise I will not.” He held her at arm’s length and wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb. “But you are aware I am oft required on the king’s business. At times, such work can take me away for a month or more.”
She nodded. “I hate to think of ever being without you.”
He pulled her into his chest and cradled her head to his heart. “I know my love. I feel the same.”
Taking in a staccato inhale, Helen leaned into him. “Once I am out of hiding, I must tell Duncan he cannot require you to spend so much time away from your home and your family.”
Eoin liked the sound of that. At long last, he would have a family of his own—sharing his life with the woman of his dreams. “I daresay if anyone can persuade Duncan to her will, it is you.”
Maggie blubbered behind them, like she was trying to talk.
He glanced over his shoulder. “She’s awfully chatty.”
“Aye, making new noises every day.” Helen started to pull away.
Moving quickly, Eoin captured her face between his palms. “I’d feel so much better if you’d kiss me first.”
Her eyes glistened with her smile. Yes, she might have been worried and angry, but sliding her hands around his waist and tugging him into her supple body, Eoin knew she loved him. Dipping his head, his lips met hers as her soft, sweet breath whooshed. When he held Helen Campbell in his arms, nothing in this world could deter him.
As the kiss ended, she emitted a long sigh. “I need to finish the washing.”
He inclined his head toward the bairn. “Let me say hello to Miss Maggie, then I’ll help you.”
“I’m nearly done.”
“’Tis good to hear, because I have other plans about what I want to do with you.” Eoin scooped Maggie into his arms and gave her a kiss on her chubby cheek. “And how are you, miss? Giving your mother strife?”
The bairn threw her head back and laughed from her belly.
Eoin couldn’t help but chuckle. “And you seem awfully happy about it, too.”
“I think she’s missed you,” Helen said while raising her hem and resuming her stomping.
He regarded the child now tugging at his shirt laces. “I missed you too.” Then he stared at Helen, her bare calves glistening with streaks of water. “Not a moment passed when you weren’t on my mind.”
She looked up and smiled, her cheeks taking on a blush. “Will you be able to stay long?”
“A sennight. If I remain away much longer, your brother will pronounce me dead and assume my lands due to my lack of an heir.”
“He wouldn’t dream of pushing out Clan Gregor.”
“Nay?”
“Absolutely not.” Helen stepped out of the basin and rung out the linens.
Eoin set Maggie on her blanket and stepped beside Helen. “I’ll dump the water.”
She straightened and brushed off her hands. “I’d almost forgotten how nice it was to have a brawny knight in attendance.” Looking at her palms, she blew over them. “Though I’m rather proud of these new calluses.”
Returning with the empty basin, he examined Helen’s hands. “Your palms look like they’ve been shredded.”
She closed her fists. “’Tis not that bad.”
“What have you been doing?”
“Nothing more than fetching water…and cooking…and chopping wood. You ken, things a woman must do when fending for herself in the wild.”
“God’s teeth, I should be here to do those things for you. The thought of your noble hands set to labor goes against every knightly code.”
“You mustn’t look at it that way. I certainly do not.” She picked up Maggie and balanced the bairn on her hip. “I see it as my liberation from helpless lady to independence.”
He placed his arm around them both and escorted them into the cottage. “It pleases me that your independence makes you happy…as long as you still need me.”
Helen stretched up and kissed his cheek. “I will always need you, sir knight.”
The sennight with Eoin flew past in a blur. Though half worried out of her mind, Helen couldn’t remain angry with her handsome knight. And having him to share the chores, gave them more time in the evenings after Maggie drifted off to sleep. She and Eoin shared tenderness so deep, she never could have guessed a man and a woman could harbor such powerful love.
Now Eoin had but one night before he must leave again.
After Maggie fell asleep for her midday nap, the sound of an ax chopping wood came from outside. Helen moved to the shutter and peered through the gap.
In one fluid motion, Eoin swung the axe in an arc. With a crack, the log split on contact. Helen shook her head. She would have had to whack that big piece of wood four or five times to achieve the same result.
He worked tirelessly to build up a pile of wood, every swing of his ax cutting deep. Stopping for a moment, he wiped his brow with his sleeve. Then he pulled his shirt over his head.
Helen gasped and touched a hand to her chest. Autumn had begun to turn the leaves golden, and with it came cooler temperatures, though the perspiration glistening across Eoin’s skin testified to the exertion he made.
As he resumed chopping, the muscles in his arms flexed like iron gauntlets. The sunlight highlighted the contours in his back, while every movement rippled with masculine vitality.
A bead of sweat dripped from his hair and slid down his spine. He seemed not to notice, wielding his ax like a well-oiled machine. Simply by watching him, Helen worked up a thirst. She hastened to the bowl, doused a cloth with water, and then she poured two cups of watered wine and headed out the door.
With a crack, wood splinters darted through the air.
She inclined her head toward the wood stack. “Look at all you have accomplished, and in short order.”
Eoin lowered his ax and turned. “I’ll not be having you chop another stick of wood, m’lady.”