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.”