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.”
She handed him a cup. “You do take care of me.”
He rested his ax on the woodheap and held up his watered wine. “’Tis a responsibility I embrace.”
They tapped their wooden cups together and drank.
“Mm,” Eoin said. “’Twas just what I needed to quell my thirst.”
Helen licked her lips and stepped into him. She smoothed the damp cloth over his shoulders and chest. “Maggie’s asleep.”
A deep chuckle rumbled through his throat and he slid his hand around her neck, plying her mouth with a kiss. “That sounds like a promise.”
“Aye.” She chuckled. “I thought that might draw your attention.”
He grasped her waist and pressed his hips against hers. “Always.”
Blessed desire gripped her nether parts as her passion inflamed. Helen shamelessly rocked her hips from side to side. “My, you have turned me into a wanton woman.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” His voice grew deeper with each word.
She emitted a seductive hum. “Perhaps not when we’re alone.”
Helen loved the look of desire on Eoin’s face when he gazed upon her with a fervent hunger through half-lidded eyes. Their bodies entwined while their lips joined in a languid dance. Warm and enticing, his mouth invited her to sail uncharted waters with him, and after a sennight of passion, Helen’s excitement grew. Every blessed joining brought a new adventure.
Eoin’s hand slid down her thigh and grasped her skirts. Her heart fluttered. Would he take her there, outside with a cold breeze caressing their skin? Anticipation of a new path to pleasure heightened her hunger.
Helen slipped her fingers into the top of his breeks and pulled on the cord holding them up.
An infant’s cry squealed from inside the cottage.
Eoin touched his forehead to hers and chuckled. “It appears we timed things a bit late.”
Helen took in a ragged breath. “Will you remember where we are until we’re alone this eve?”
He nuzzled against her ear. “I’ll be thinking of it every moment until then.”
Maggie’s cries rose until they bordered on panic-stricken.
Helen gave him one last kiss. “Then I shall hold you to it.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
At long last the king had decided to deploy his forces—not a few galleys at a time to quell skirmishes, but the entire armada King James had amassed set sail on course to capture Alexander MacDonald once and