Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
T he first rays of dawn crept through the curtains, casting a warm and golden hue over the room. The world outside was painted in shades of soft orange and pink, the promise of a new day unfolding in all its splendor.
Catherine stirred in her slumber, her eyes fluttering open to the sight of Eamon's peaceful face beside her and his strong arms around her. His features were softened in the morning light, a serene expression that seemed to mirror the tranquility of the moment. As her gaze met his, a rush of affection surged within her, a feeling that filled every corner of her heart.
Their lips met in a gentle morning kiss, a sweet affirmation of the emotions that had taken root between them. The taste of his lips was a reminder of the passion they had shared the night before, a fire that still burned brightly in her soul.
As they lingered in each other's arms, time seemed to stand still, the outside world fading into insignificance. The warmth of their bodies pressed together was a testament to the intimacy they had found, a connection that went beyond the physical and reached the depths of their souls.
A soft knock on the door disrupted their idyllic moment, and Eamon let out a playful groan as he untangled himself from Catherine's embrace. He slipped out of bed, his form casting a strong and protective shadow in the morning light.
“One moment,” he called as he pulled on his kilt and tunic. He strode to the door and opened it, but stood so that Catherine was blocked from the visitor’s view. “What is it?” he asked.
“There was trouble in town last night, that group you are looking for, I fear,” the man on the other side of the door said. Catherine couldn’t be sure, but she thought it might be the innkeeper.
Eamon's back straightened. “What has taken place? Why was I nae informed sooner?” he asked.
“I didnae hear about it until just this morning, when I took a delivery. Else I would have woken you.”
“Very well, what did they do, this band of men who came into town?”
The innkeeper explained, “William MacCowan and his brother Ian broke into a shop sometime last night, damaged things and then ran off after setting it ablaze.”
Eamon gave him a nod and told him he and his men would handle it. Catherine liked watching him being so commanding and authoritative. It was a turn on and she wished there was time for another romp in the bed, but given the circumstances, she knew there wouldn’t be.
“I’ll be down soon.” With that Eamon closed the door and turned to her. It was evident that he didn't want to leave her, not after the intimate connection they had shared, but duty called.
As he finished getting dressed and prepared to leave, Eamon's gaze remained fixed on Catherine. There was a silent promise that passed between them, an unspoken understanding that they would find their way back into each other’s arms, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.
Catherine swept the covers aside and began to get up.
"Dinnae fash yourself, love," Eamon said, his voice carrying a hint of lust in its husky tone. "I will be back soon. Stay here and rest. Have a hearty breakfast sent up." His gaze held a tender warmth as he met her eyes, a silent reassurance that he would return to her side as swiftly as he could.
Catherine's determination, however, was not easily swayed. She crossed her arms, her expression one of resolute stubbornness. "Oh, I don't think so," she replied, brooking no argument in her tone. "I'm coming along. If there's trouble afoot, I want to help."
A smile tugged at the corners of Eamon's lips, his admiration for her spirit evident in his gaze. "Lass, tis nae safe," he warned, his tone gentle yet firm. "These men are nae ordinary troublemakers. They're dangerous. I cannae focus on fighting them an’ on keeping you safe as well.”
Catherine's eyes flashed with a fire that matched his own, her determination unyielding. "I understand the risks, Eamon," she insisted. "But I can't just sit here while you go into danger. I want to help, to stand by your side. Besides, I have the dirk, I can defend myself if I have to."
He stepped closer, his fingers lifting her chin gently to meet his gaze. “You have a stubborn spirit, love," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Just promise me that you'll stay close to me, and follow my directions."
Catherine held his gaze. "I promise," she said softly, her voice carrying a sincerity that reached deep into his heart. "I trust you, Eamon but you’re nuts if you think I’m walking away now."
With a resigned yet affectionate smile, Eamon finally nodded. "Very well, then. You can come along.”
Catherine's lips curved into a triumphant grin.
“Best get some clothes on then, love.”
Catherine giggled and hurried to get dressed.
The village streets bustled with activity as Eamon, Catherine, and his guardsmen rode through on their horses, their presence garnering curious gazes from the villagers. The morning sun cast a warm glow on the cobblestones, and the air was filled with the mingling scents of livestock and freshly baked bread. Eamon's eyes scanned the faces of the villagers, his senses sharp, as they searched for any sign of the troublemaker they sought as they headed to the shop that had been vandalized.
They spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon helping the shop keeper clean up and repair things while several of his men kept up a patrol of the large town. Once they had done everything that they could for the shop keeper, they remounted their horses to join in the search for William and Ian MacCowan.
As they reached the opposite end of town from where they had started, a burly figure with fiery red hair caught their attention. William, the brute they sought, stumbled out of a tavern that catered to the more surly residents of the area. His demeanor was aggressive, but Catherine could tell he was blitzed beyond reason. Eamon's grip on his reins tightened as he guided his horse toward the man, Catherine and his men who had joined them following suit.
"William MacCowan!" Eamon's voice cut through the air like a blade, commanding the attention of the crowd. The villagers paused to watch the scene unfold. Eamon dismounted, his boots hitting the ground with purpose.
The drunk man turned to face Eamon, a scowl etched across his features. "What's it to you?" he spat, his words slurred from drink. His gaze flicked to Catherine and back to Eamon, suspicion evident in his eyes.
Eamon's stance was firm, his expression unyielding. “You and your brother, Ian, caused a fair bit o' trouble in this village last night. You need to answer for it, pay for the damages."
William's lips curled into a mocking grin, and he took a step forward, invading Eamon's personal space. "And what if I dinnae feel like answering, eh?"
Eamon's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. His men watched with tense readiness, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons. Catherine held her breath, as worry and anticipation churned within her.
The confrontation escalated as William's temper flared. He shoved Eamon with a force that sent him stumbling back. The villagers gasped, their eyes widening at the audacity of the act. Eamon's fingers flexed at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he restrained his response.
Catherine's heart raced as she watched the tension rise, her instincts urging her to act. Eamon's voice was low and controlled, and cut through the tension. "You'll tell me where your brother is, William. Now."
But William's defiance remained unyielding. He glared at Eamon, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You think you can come here, boss us around? We've our own way of doin' things."
Eamon's patience was obviously wearing thin, as Catherine could see his fingers itching to draw his weapon. She felt a rush of adrenaline as she watched the standoff, her own emotions mirroring Eamon's. It was a battle of wills, an unspoken challenge that hung heavy in the air. And as the two men locked eyes, their destinies intertwined in this moment, the village seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the spark that would ignite the impending fight between them.
Eamon's stance was poised, his muscles taut as he prepared for what was to come. With a sudden, powerful movement, William swung a fist toward Eamon's face. Eamon's reflexes were swift, his body moving with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior. He ducked under William's punch, his movements fluid as he sidestepped and countered with a blow to William's side. The impact echoed through the air, the force of it causing William to stagger back.
But William was no easy opponent. He recovered quickly, despite his drunkeness, his eyes narrowing as he lunged forward again, fists flying. Eamon parried each blow with skillful precision, his movements a dance of power and finesse. The villagers watched as the two men clashed, their muscles straining and sweat glistening on their skin.
Eamon's movements were calculated, his strikes strategic. He deflected William's attacks, his own blows landing with deadly accuracy. It was a dance of aggression and defense, a battle of strength and skill that had the crowd on the edge of their seats and Catherine couldn’t help but admire him as she watched.
With a swift move, Eamon dodged a punch and delivered a powerful blow to William's jaw. The brute stumbled back, his eyes momentarily clouded with surprise. Eamon seized the opportunity, his movements a blur as he closed the distance between them. A series of calculated strikes had William disoriented and off balance.
Before long, Eamon had the upper hand, his mastery evident in every move. He expertly incapacitated William, skillfully using his body's natural weaknesses to subdue him. With a final, well-placed blow, Eamon knocked William to the ground. The crowd erupted into cheers as Eamon stood victorious.
Breathing heavily, Eamon's chest rose and fell with each labored breath. He wiped sweat from his brow, his eyes focused on the defeated form of William on the ground. Without a word, he moved to secure the man’s hands, binding them with a length of rope.
With the brawl concluded, Eamon turned to Catherine, his eyes softening as he approached her. His heart pounded with a mixture of triumph and relief, and he offered her a small smile. "Are you alright, love?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
Catherine nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of awe and gratitude. "I've never seen anyone fight like that before, you were amazing," she admitted, her voice tinged with affection.
Eamon's smile widened, his gaze holding hers. "A bit o' practice comes in handy now and then," he replied, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
As the crowd dispersed, Eamon's men moved to assist him. Together, they secured William and gathered their belongings. With a sense of accomplishment, Eamon nodded to Catherine, his eyes conveying a silent understanding. The battle was won, the danger subdued, and their journey continued with a renewed sense of purpose, to find the other bandit named Ian who would possibly lead them to Malcolm. If they were even the ones behind the killings at the farm.
"Take this man back to Fort Donald, we will continue our search for his brother Ian," Eamon said giving orders to two of his men.
The men obeyed the orders and began the process of setting out on the journey back to Fort Donald, taking William as a prisoner, while the other’s returned to their camp.