Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
W hen Catherine and Eamon returned to the inn, the common room was a hubbub of activity, its wooden floors creaking under the weight of villagers and travelers. The air was thick with the scent of hearty meals and the warmth of camaraderie. Eamon and Catherine stood at the center of it all, the heroes of the day's events.
The Innkeeper approached them, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and admiration. “You have our deepest thanks, Eamon MacDonald," he said, his voice laden with sincerity. "It tis nae often that someone steps in to handle the likes of William and his brother since they arrived here but a fortnight ago."
Eamon offered a nod of acknowledgement, his gaze steady. "Twas our job to step in as the Donald Clan’s guard," he replied humbly.
The Innkeeper's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "Well, you may consider this a token of our appreciation," he said, motioning toward the tables laden with food and drink. “You, the lass, and your men can enjoy a free night of rest and feast to your heart's content."
Eamon's eyes flickered to Catherine, a silent exchange of agreement passing between them. "That's a kind offer, and we'll gladly accept it," he said, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
As the Innkeeper bustled away to attend to other guests, Eamon turned to Catherine, his gaze warm. "We shall stay one more night here, and give you a bit more time to rest," he remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement.
Catherine nodded, her lips curving into a smile. "Seems a good idea. I suppose the horses could use the extra rest as well. Besides if news of William's capture reaches Ian, he might return here to the tavern."
"That is a fine assessment, love," he said. “I’ll inform the others of our plans.”
With their arrangements settled, Eamon sent a boy off with a missive and then he and Catherine found themselves in a cozy corner of the inn's common room on their own. The hearth crackled nearby, casting a warm glow over the room as they settled in. Plates of hearty fare were placed before them, the aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread filling the air.
Eamon leaned back in his chair, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he surveyed the scene. “You know, love," he began, his voice a low rumble, "there's somethin' to be said for a warm meal and a soft bed after a hard day's work."
Catherine chuckled softly, her eyes meeting his. "I couldn't agree more," she replied, her voice filled with a contented sigh. "It's been an exciting day, hasn't it?"
"Aye, that it has," Eamon agreed, his gaze holding hers. "And I've been glad to have you by my side through it all."
Catherine's heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his tone resonating deeply within her. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his in a gentle caress. "I'm grateful to be here," she confessed, her eyes locked onto his. "With you."
As the evening wore on, they lingered over their meal, their conversation a blend of stories and easy laughter. The inn's patrons and Eamon’s men continued to come and go, their voices creating a comforting backdrop to the couple's quiet intimacy.
Eventually, the plates were cleared away, and the room began to empty as travelers retired to their rooms. Eamon and Catherine remained, their chairs pulled close together as they savored the lingering moments of their evening.
As the fire crackled nearby, Eamon reached out to grasp Catherine's hand in his own. Their fingers entwined. In the flickering firelight, their eyes met, each gaze reflecting a depth of emotion that words could never fully capture.
With a soft smile, Eamon rose from his chair, his hand still clasped in Catherine's. "Shall we retire for the night, love?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Catherine nodded, her heart racing with anticipation. Together, they made their way to the room they’d shared the night before, the promise of a lovely night's rest ahead.
The room was cast in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the small window, creating an ethereal ambiance that seemed to mirror the depth of their connection. Eamon's eyes held a mixture of tenderness and longing as he looked at Catherine.
Catherine's fingers trembled as they moved to unfasten the remaining laces of Eamon's shirt, her touch filled with a fervent desire. With each tie that came undone, a sense of anticipation thrummed through the air, a melody of unspoken promises that seemed to echo in the silence of the room.
As their bodies drew closer, the world outside faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the cocoon of their shared longing. Eamon's hands moved to gently cradle Catherine's face, his touch spoke volumes. Their lips met in a tender kiss, a union of souls that conveyed the depth of their emotions far better than words ever could.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Eamon helped Catherine out of her dress. She stood before him, bathed in the moon's gentle radiance. The reverence in Eamon's eyes told her that he saw not just her physical form, but the essence of her being and she fell even more in love with him than before.
Their bodies came together with a natural grace. Every touch, every caress, was an unspoken connection that had grown between them. As their bodies joined in a symphony of love, the world around them seemed to blur into insignificance, leaving only the two of them entwined in a rapturous embrace.
Time seemed to lose its meaning as they explored the contours of each other's bodies, their breaths mingling in a harmonious rhythm. Their whispered endearments and stolen kisses were declarations of love that needed no grand gestures to be understood.
As their desires found release in each other's arms, a profound sense of completion washed over Catherine. Their bodies were entwined as if they were always meant to be together, two halves of a whole finding their perfect match in each other. A thought struck her then that perhaps she’d never found her soulmate or even anyone close to that, in her own time period and it was because Eamon was here waiting for her in the past. She’d just had to travel through time to find him.
After the waves of passion had subsided, exhaustion crept in, and she began to settle into his arms to rest. The world beyond their room faded into obscurity. The sounds of their breathing harmonized with the rhythm of their heartbeats, a lullaby of contentment that seemed to lull her into a state of serenity.
The moon cast its pale light through the window, bathing the room in a soft glow as Catherine tossed and turned in her sleep. Her brows furrowed, and her fingers clenched the bedsheets, as if trying to hold onto something just beyond her grasp. Whispers of a nightmare danced at the edges of her consciousness, threatening to pull her further into its depths.
She felt a hand brush against her forehead.
"Catherine," a voice murmured softly, it was a soothing balm in the darkness.
Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, the remnants of her dream still lingered in her gaze. Eamon's concerned expression came into focus, and she let out a shaky breath. "Eamon," she whispered, her voice carrying a trace of the unease that had gripped her.
His fingers traced a soothing pattern along her arm, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of her turmoil. “You were havin' a bad dream, love," he observed gently, his eyes filled with worry and tenderness.
Catherine nodded, her heart still racing from the fading echoes of the nightmare. "Yeah, I think I was," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Eamon's brow furrowed in concern. "What was it about?" he inquired, his gaze searching hers as if hoping to read the answers in the depths of her eyes.
For a moment, she hesitated, her thoughts tangled in the web of her subconscious fears. But Eamon's presence was a soothing and calm, a reminder that she wasn’t alone. With a sigh, she began to recount the fragments of her dream, the details slipping from her lips as if unburdening her soul.
Eamon listened attentively, his expression growing more serious as he absorbed her words.
The dream had been disturbing because it had involved her actually giving in to Sir Kellan’s advances and losing any chance with Eamon. She told him how she felt after he’d said what he did when she’d nursed him and admitted that Sir Kellan had been pursuing her, and even though she’d thought that he was finished with her, she didn’t want to be with Sir Kellan, which was what made the dream more of a nightmare.
"Catherine," he began, his voice a blend of raw emotion and resolve, "I cannae say I'm nae hurt by what you've told me. I didnae know that he was courting you, nor that you’d taken my words to mean I didnae care about you."
Her heart ached at the hurt she had unintentionally caused him, and she reached out to touch his hand. "Eamon, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice laced with regret. "I wasn’t trying to hurt you by telling you of my dream or what occurred."
He shook his head, his eyes searching hers. “You didnae hurt me intentionally, I know that," he admitted, his voice softening. “I didnae mean to send you away with my reply from my sickbed. Nor for you to think I didnae care for you.”
Catherine nodded, her fingers tightening around his hand. “I know that, I do.”
“I care for you very much, love. Tis it possible that you care for me in such a way?”
A sense of determination welled within her. She met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. "Eamon," she said, her voice steady, "My heart belongs here, with you. It's you I've chosen. I would not be here with you now if you weren’t the one my heart longs for."
A mixture of relief and warmth spread across his features, his shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been lifted. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against her cheek. “So you’ve no feelings for Sir Kellan then?”
“I can’t say I have no feelings for him, I mean, I’m not in love with him and when he kissed me, it was?—”
“He kissed you?” Eamon pushed himself up and moved away from her. “He kissed you.” He stood up and ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.
“Eamon—” Catherine said, hoping to calm him down as she reached for him.
“Donnae.” He grabbed his kilt and yanked it on, then headed for the door.
“Please, Eamon, let me explain.”
His back was to her, his hand on the knob, but he refused to look at her. “I cannae be with a woman torn between two men. Good night, Catherine.” With that, he pulled open the door and left.
Catherine sat in the bed, the sheet at her waist as she stared after him. Tears streaming down her cheeks. He’d left her. He hadn’t even allowed her to explain that Sir Kellan’s kiss had meant nothing to her. That she felt nothing for the man but friendship. That was what she’d been attempting to explain when he’d gotten so angry.
And now she was alone, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover.