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.”
Helen nodded with a warm smile. “Och, I am happy to hear it.”
“And how long will you be visiting Mingary, Sir Eoin?” Cate asked.
“A month, mayhap two.” He didn’t want to alarm the poor crofter with the reason for his visit.
The elderly woman placed a wooden bowl of broth with one sliver of onion in front of him. “Do you think those MacDonalds will leave us be?”
Evidently the rumor mill was as alive and healthy in Kilchoan as it was in every other Highland village. Eoin cleared his throat. “I hope so, mistress.”
Helen lifted her wooden spoon. “Sir Aleck sailed this morning to inspect the MacDonald lands in Sleat. Are you aware Alexander