Cait’s body was still sore from his first possession, and so an edge of pain sliced through the pleasure, rendering the rest somehow more acute. Ewan was so enormous. She felt as if she was being pushed apart as her body stretched to welcome his invasion.
She worried that she wasn’t playing her part, but was too bonelessly sated to do anything more than lock her weary arms around Ewan’s neck as he pounded between her legs. He seemed to be finding his pleasure without her assistance. Sooner than she had expected, her own nerves were stirring again.
“God, Cait!” Ewan sounded half-strangled when he clutched one of her legs and wound it around her hip. The action changed his angle of entry, so that he was striking bluntly against her hip with every thrust. They rocked together a half dozen times more. Then, just as his cock began to twitch with its own release, she climaxed again.
The second jolt of ecstasy was less overwhelming than the first, but still exquisite. She rode it out, clinging to Ewan’s shoulders until it ended and she collapsed in a sweaty heap.
Ewan followed a second later, tumbling down on her chest. He laid there until she started to squirm, and then slid off so that his body was arranged behind her, but his head was still resting on her chest.
Cait laid very still for a time, enjoying the companionable silence. She started a bit when Ewan reached a hand up to her hair, but she quickly regained composure. She closed her eyes again, concentrating on the feel of his nimble fingers raking through his hair until she felt that someone had to speak.
“That was…” she began softly. Then, to her embarrassment, remembered that it was hardly ladylike to speak about what they’d just done at all-much less whether of not it was spectacular.
Luckily, Ewan offered a rescue. “Nice,” he said wryly.
Cait laughed, the tension evaporating instantaneously. She socked him on the arm. “That will be enough out of you!” she giggled, but stopped abruptly when she saw his face.
It was oddly serious, and she didn’t understand when he started to shake his head. “No,” he whispered and traced her cheek with the tip of his thumb, “Not nearly enough.”
Cait caught her breath, wondering what the odd declaration could possibly mean, but she didn’t have a chance to work it out before Ewan rolled to his feet. Their adventures had left more than half of the bathwater on the floor, so all of the towels were wet, but he found the driest one and tossed it in her direction. “We should try to sleep.”
Cait nodded her head demurely. Then, long years of habit caused her to ask, “Is there anything else you need before I go?”
“Go?” Ewan growled, Caitching her wrist again. Cait was beginning to suspect that her shoulder would be disjointed by the end of a year and a day.
“Y-yes,” she responded, unsettled by the sudden alteration of his mood.
“Go where?” he demanded.
“To…to my room,” Cait answered quietly, beginning to wonder if Ewan wasn’t quite done with her. She was exhausted and sore, and yet, her body still sizzled at the thought.
“This is your room,” Ewan said darkly, “At least…” he began, but changed his mind. “This is where you are sleeping from now on,” he said at last, and in a tone that indicated that the matter had been fully decided.
Cait bit her lip, wondering if she dared defy him. She didn’t pretend that sleeping with Ewan-really sleeping with him in a bed-didn’t hold appeal, but mingled with the potential pleasure was a gripping fear. She was already in love with him. How much further could she slip before there was no recovery-before she wasn’t able to live without him at all? Remaining separate, as much as possible, was the only defense that she could devise.
Unfortunately, Ewan didn’t know what she was thinking or, if he did, he didn’t appear prepared to give a great deal of consideration to her concerns. He steered her roughly toward his-their- bed, almost pushing her into the feathery tangle of quilts before climbing after.
Cait was facing away from Ewan and couldn’t see what he was doing behind her. She thought that she could guess when his strong, tanned forearm slipped around her waist and crushed her to his chest. However, there was no huge arousal pressing back against her bottom. In fact, Ewan didn’t move again at all. He yawned deeply, his chin settled on the top of her head and then, to her utter amazement, his breathing fell into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.
Cait was suspicious. Any moment, she expected her husband to come awake and pounce on her again. Otherwise, what was the point of keeping her in his room? Still, as the minutes wore on, her eyelids began to droop. It was comfortable in Ewan’s bed, buried beneath four quilts, snuggled up against his chest with one large, rough palm settled squarely on her chest. It was much warmer than her own garret room. The sounds around her: Ewan’s breathing and the steady throbbing of his heart, were also soothing. Before she knew it, she was fast asleep as well.
Cait awoke the next morning to sunshine and bird song and a feeling of delicious peace. She couldn’t ever remember having slept so well, and so she kept her eyes closed a few minutes longer, enjoying the comfort of a warm, cozy bed. Then, with a little sigh she stretched - then gasped when she knocked against something warm and hard-another person’s legs!
Cait’s eyes snapped open, and she felt a double flare of panic: she was in bed with a strange man-and she was hideously late to begin her work!
Cait flung the quilts back and tried to bolt from bed, but a strong male arm prevented her escape. “Not…mmmmmrph….yet….” came a sleepy mumble from behind her head, but she didn’t look back. She struggled harder, and then squealed when, instead of letting her go, the arm tightened. Finally, Cait spun around.
Up until that moment, her memories had not kicked in. They returned in a rush when they met her new husband’s sleepy face. “Ewan!” she exclaimed.
His pale blue eyes were only barely opened, and became even smaller slits when they crinkled into a smile. “Do I want to know who else you might have been expecting?” he said lightly, but with a tiny possessive edge.
“No, I…er…I had….” Cait’s cheeks flushed crimson. Luckily, Ewan didn’t let her suffer, abruptly, silencing her with a heavy kiss. When he pulled away again, Cait was dizzy, but she shook the feeling off with determination as she resumed her struggle to get out of bed. “Ewan! Let me go!”
“What if I say I don’t want to?” he said obstinately, tucking her back into his arms and making something of a show of snuggling down into his pillow again.
“Then I’ll be in trouble!” Cait insisted, real fear settling in when she thought about what might happen if she caught her lounging around in bed-with the Laird’s nephew no less! She hadn’t been afraid of Ewan punishing her for disobedience the night before. Mrs. Gibbons was usually a pleasant sort, but she was known to have fits of temper, and was known to order a solid thrashing where she thought it might do some good.
Unfortunately, her pleas fell on deaf (or slumbering) ears. Ewan smacked his lips sleepily a few times, and showed not the slightest intention to move.
“Ewan!” she pleaded, “Please, please let me go. I have to help with breakfast. I’ll hurry back as soon as I can. I’ll get a beating if-“
“A beating?” the blue eyes popped open as if he’d never been asleep at all, and a dark frown clouded his face. “Who would dare to raise a hand on you?”
“The…the housekeeper,” Cait responded, real tears welling up in her eyes now when she heard the bells for the morning mass drifting up from the village chapel. It was past time to have helped with breakfast to judge by their tolling. She was already doomed and could only beg for mercy.
Ewan looked dumbfounded by her response, “The housekeeper?” he snarled angrily, “The housekeeper would dare to lay a hand on my wife?”
Cait blinked, not understanding his meaning, “But…but not really…” she finally whispered, but stopped trying to squirm away.
“Yes, really,” Ewan drawled, crawling closer. He hadn’t yet released her wai
st. He hauled her onto his chest, front to front, and then tilted his hips, letting her feel his positively enormous erection. “It’s a bit insulting that you keep forgetting.”
Cait exhaled slowly, not knowing what to say, how to react, or even how to feel. She still didn’t fully guess what he was saying. Surely she was still required to perform her chores? Or was she only meant to service him now? She had the impression that Ewan was trying to make some sort of point-but he had gotten distracted by his own, drowsy arousal. Whatever he’d meant to teach her was lost in a flurry of kisses along her shoulders, “Perhaps I ought to refresh your memory?” he growled.
A wave of warmth shot through Cait’s body at the suggestion, pooling in the center of her womb. Her shoulders finally slumped in submission. There was really no sense fighting what both her Ewan and her own baser instincts craved. She barely resisted as he parted her legs, and then slipped into her waiting heat.
It didn’t hurt at all this time, even despite her soreness. She was astonished and faintly embarrassed by how ready her own body had been, already slick and still stretched from the night before. Despite the ease with which she took him, the pleasure wasn’t dimmed in the least.
Afterwards, Ewan shifted his weight, bearing most of it on his knees so that he could keep his head resting on her chest. Cait’s giggled when the short, rough hairs of his beard tickled across her skin, and then her fingers acted of their own accord, tenderly the line of the jaw they covered. Ewan sighed like a contented child, and let his eyes drift shut again.
However, despite physical exhaustion, Cait found that she was in no mood to sleep. A nervous energy spread through her limbs. She waited until she thought that Ewan was asleep, and then slipped carefully out of bed.
Once she had redonned her rumpled clothes, splashed some water on her face, and combed her hair, she walked to the window and peered outside. Once again, she tried to think seriously about her predicament. Clearly, Ewan expected her to act as though she were his real wife-at least in some manner. She needed to establish what the boundaries were. At a minimum, it seemed, she wasn’t expected to carry on her old duties and she’d live here in his room. She supposed it made sense to move down some of her things. At the very least, she needed a proper dress. Making up her mind to attend this task immediately, she headed for the door.
This time, it was not a touch, but Ewan’s voice that stopped her.
“Leaving again?” he groaned.
Cait didn’t respond to the question directly. “A bit of a light sleeper, aren’t you?” she asked, smiling as she tried to reconcile this fact with his lazy sluggishness a few minutes before.
“Comes in handy on the borders, lass,” he responded in a tone less playful than she would have expected, and she reminded herself that, though he seemed playful and docile now, Ewan had been a warrior for many years. It was no wonder that he liked to linger in a soft bed. No doubt it was a rarity to have one!
“I’m going to my room,” Cait said after a slight pause. “I need to fetch my clothes and personal effects.”
“We’ll send a lad to fetch them,” Ewan said, still protesting, but finally sitting up on the bed and stretching his arms.
“Ewan, I need something to wear today!” she said, exasperated if pleased by his insistence.
“But I like you better naked,” he purred, coming to stand behind her. Cait melted back against him when he twined his arms around her waist. She snuggled there for a moment, but finally pulled away.
“We do have to leave the room eventually,” she pointed out.
“Aye,” Ewan said, sighing heavily. Cait squealed when he smacked her on her bottom. “Off with ye then,” he said. “and hurry back.”
Cait nodded and scurried off. She had every intention of complying with his command, but when she arrived in her room she became distracted sorting through her meager cache of belongings. She didn’t want to return to Ewan in her washing clothes-but there were barely any other options! She had the plain black wool gown that she wore to church, a few frayed skirts and bodices for day to day, and an old, hand-me-down dress of Muira’s that she wore when they Laird was holding Hall. Although she hated to appear before Ewan in his sister’s old clothes, it was the only gown that came close to being appropriate. So, sighing regretfully, she tugged it over her head.
It was a struggle to do up the stays. After that, it took more time to do her hair. She had lots of practice helping the ladies of the house, but not nearly enough pins or ribbons to accomplish something elaborate on her own. In the end she settled for a pretty braid curled around her head, interwoven with a length of green ribbon Mrs. Gibbons had given her for Christmas, and then slipped her feet into a pair of fraying slippers half a size too small.
She looked into the mirror and nearly burst into tears. Her hair and face were beautiful. At least she was lucky in that. The gown wasn’t awful, but neither was it suitable for the wife of the War Chieftain of Clan Cameron! It was both too fine and too worn for her to wear lounging around the castle. With a squeal of frustration, she took it off again.
Lacking any other options, she put her church dress on. Worn with a cheerful bodice and a tartan shawl it was serviceable at least. Feeling rather depressed about her wardrobe, Cait headed back downstairs.
Ewan was sitting at a table by the fire, chomping hungrily on a place of eggs and ham.
“Lunch?” Cait enquired as she stepped back through the door.
“Breakfast,” Ewan corrected.
She felt his eyes raking over her figure, and so she confronted his scrutiny and asked, “Well, how to I look?”
He hesitated for a moment and then said, not very convincingly, “Very bonnie…but…”
“But?” Cait asked, frowning.
“But…nothing,” he said too quickly.
“Ewan?” Cait said with a sigh, hoping that Ewan was better at fighting than he was at lying. She could see the way he diverted his eyes.
“But…I want to buy you a present, that’s all,” He announced, sounding more sure of himself.
Cait’s eyebrows furrowed uncertainly. “A present.”
“Aye,” he said, kissing the bridge of her nose and instantly evaporating the frown. “It’s market day, isn’t it?”
“Yes…” Cait said slowly.
“And I haven’t bought you a wedding present, have I?”
“No, but…” Cait started slowly.
“And you can’t go around looking like that all the time,” he continued, so smoothly that he must have surprised even himself, because he added quickly, “I mean-you look very pretty!” he corrected, “But you need a new dress or two for the new things you’ll be doing.”
Cait was surprised that she managed to hold her expression. She wanted to burst into tears at the unspoken comment on her attire-but she had to admit that Ewan was saying nothing more than the truth. She’d noted herself that she had only a single gown befitting a lady wife, and that was only for special occasions.
“Maybe we could find a bit of fabric,” Cait said, wondering if she could find the box of old patterns she’d used to help sew Muira’s dresses a few years back.
“It’s settled then,” Ewan said, relief sparking in his eyes. “We’ll have lunch and then be off.”
“But you just had lunch!” Cait said, nodding at the tray.
“Breakfast,” Ewan corrected again with a wink, “Didn’t touch it, really,” he said, despite the crumb-filled plate, “Worked up a good appetite,” he added in a sultry whisper that caused Cait to blush.
“But…” Cait started to argue. Everyone in the castle would be at luncheon, and she didn’t know what they were expecting to see, or what they would say when confronted with her and Ewan together. “But…”
“But?” he asked, adjusting his plaid in front of a mirror.
“But…everyone will see us together,” she finally blurted, “They’ll ask questions.”
Ewan waved away her protest, “Why shouldn’t they know?�
�� he asked, “It’s common knowledge, and then that don’t know will be asking questions soon enough,” he said, giving her still-flat belly a suggestive pat. “Are we off then?” he said in a tone which implied that this was a statement and not a question.
Still full of misgivings, Cait took his arm and started down the steps to dinner. To her relief, the very fine autumn day had kept most of the household away from the midday meal. Among the principle family there was only the Laird, who nodded their direction, his wife (who offered Cait a congratulatory kiss), and James who kept looking at his brother askance, as if he were still struggling to work out the punchline to a joke. A few dozen of the commoners were milling about at the lower tables, but they didn’t appear to pay much mind to the new Mrs. Cameron-at least, those who weren’t young ladies did not. More than one blue-eyes miss pointed and whispered in Cait’s direction. More often than not, an answering whisper-no doubt the tidbit of gossip concerning that she was Ewan’s wife-ended with a vicious scowl.
The meal was swiftly concluded. Cait wasn’t hungry, and Ewan had the “breakfast” in their room. It wasn’t long before they were off.
“Can you ride a horse, Beauty?” he asked when they were back outside in the sunshine. The compliment, offered a second time, caused her ears to turn pink.
“Not very well,” she replied, though the frank truth was that she didn’t ride at all.
Luckily, this wasn’t good enough. Ewan nodded his head, “Up for a good stretch of the legs then?” he asked, “Or should I order up the carriage?”
“It’s only half a mile!” Cait said, laughing. She’d walked five times as far on errands for the castle-and without such pleasant company.
“Fair enough,” he answered, and then led the way out of the castle gates.
The actual distance to the village was only to the bottom of Ben Cameron, a high, craggy hill upon which the castle was sat, but the road purposefully spiraled around the castle in three loops, both to compensate for the grade and to put off any invaders. It was a cold day, but the exercise and the bright sunshine chased away any chill.
A Year and a Day Page 6