Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty #4) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,83

a young steed.”

He gestured to the gelding. “Lady Gyllis offered me the best in her stable.”

Helen could have swooned where she stood. My stars ’tis good to see him. “Did she now?”

After tying his horse, Eoin stepped up to the threshold and Helen craned her neck to gaze upon his handsome face. Lord in heaven, how on earth did he grow more beautiful in the brief time since I’ve last seen him? She stood there like a young maid and stared.

The corner of his mouth ticked up while his gaze trailed from her eyes to her lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he brushed the back of his knuckle along her jaw. Gooseflesh rose across her skin.

“Ah, Lady Helen,” he hoarsely whispered. “I raced here like a madman just to see you, and I have so much to tell, I’ve no idea where to start.”

Rising to her toes, she cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand. Oh yes, she could gaze into those blue eyes for an eternity. “I’m ever so glad to see you.”

He covered her hand and slid it to his lips. Closing his eyes, he kissed her fingers, plying them with full and tender lips. “To see your face is like opening a window to a valley of primrose on a spring morn.”

Och, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold on for dear life. If only it were proper. Helen stepped aside and gestured toward the hearth. “You’re in luck. I’ve put on a pottage, and once the leek has time to steep, we shall be ready to sup. I trust you will not be in such a hurry you won’t stay for the evening meal.”

“I’ve no reason to haste away.” He inhaled deeply. “It smells far too good to decline your generous invitation.”

She chuckled. “’Tis a bit bland, but I’ve a batch of kettle scones baking to liven it up.”

Eoin stepped inside and closed the door. “You never cease to amaze me, Lady Helen. Where did you learn to cook?”

“Mother made sure we learned the basics, and then Peter at Mingary taught me the rest. I may not have been the one to stir the pot, but I most certainly oversaw the ingredients and their measurement.”

Maggie chortled from her place on the sheepskin rug.

Eoin smiled in the babe’s direction. “How is the bairn settling in?”

Helen’s breast swelled with her smile. “She’s unscathed by the whole ordeal. We’ve been playing a game of touching different textures. She’s quite enjoyed it.”

Eoin sauntered over and picked up the square of silk. “Would this be her favorite?”

“Oh no, she prefers the plush wool beneath her—let out a right royal laugh when she sunk her wee fingers into it.”

He scooped Maggie into his arms. “And what say you, little one? Do you like sheepskin?”

Maggie reached up with both hands and clapped his face.

He chuckled. “Or is it a man’s stubbled chin?”

The bairn threw her head back with a gummy grin, then bobbled upright, squealing with delight.

Helen tapped her fingers to her chest. “I think she’s taken a liking to you.”

“That’s a good thing.” Eoin rubbed his nose against Maggie’s cheek. “She’s the bonniest bairn I’ve ever seen.”

Helen couldn’t disagree. Standing completely still, she watched how Eoin handled the babe, his large hands cradling her securely, but ever so gently. And Maggie stared up at him with wide eyes, as if she adored the man.

Helen broke the houseleek into bits and tossed it in the pottage. Then she held a twig in the coals and lit the tallow candle on the table. Her hands tremored a bit, anticipating he’d say something about her plight. She then picked up the spoon and stirred. Eoin hadn’t yet uttered a word about his visit to Iona either. Waiting made her fidgety and she clanged the spoon on the side of the pot. Just ask him. “Were you able to meet with my brother, John?”

When he didn’t respond right away, Helen regarded him over her shoulder.

“Forgive me. I was so enamored with Maggie, I neglected to tell you.” His expression was far kinder than a brawny man’s should be. “And that is the main reason for my visit.”

Eoin took a seat on one of the benches at the table and propped Maggie on his knee. “The bishop has already left for Rome.”

“John is carrying the missive himself?” Helen turned from the hearth and faced him, covering her mouth with her palm. “Truly?” Her eyes stung with tears. Would she finally be

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