“You DO, Cait!” Ewan assured her. “You do! But it wasn’t fair of me to force you to do…’that’. It isn’t part of our bargain.”
Cait’s eyes flashed, “Our bargain?” she said, and then she was still for a moment. After the silence had stretched out for a while, she added: “What other terms does our bargain include?”
Ewan stared at her for a long moment before he was able to get his jaw to work. She looked so serious-fairly desperate for an answer, and he had none to give.
“I’ve never been married before, Cait,” Ewan finally muttered.
Cait was not satisfied with the answer, “Aye, and neither have I, Ewan…but I need to know what you want from me-apart from a baby, I mean,” she said.
“There’s that, of course,” he responded slowly.
“Aye-and to warm your bed?”
The words were spoken so baldly that Ewan felt a twinge of embarrassment. He studied her face, wondering how he should answer. Of course they had to sleep together for the baby-but he didn’t trust himself to live within the boundaries of simple, functional mating. He was far too tempted by everything that Cait had to offer. “Aye,” he finally said, and then carefully watched Cait’s face.
“To do…to do everything?” she fairly whispered.
Ewan felt another wash of guilt. She had to be thinking of the perversion that he’d just forced on her, “No-only what you’re comfortable with,” he assured her. “I want you…” his voice trailed off as he tried to quantify how he wanted Cait-but he realized very quickly that this would be impossible. He wanted everything from her. His appetite for her body was already threatening to become voracious.
“You want me…?” Cait nudged, wanting to hear the non-existent rest.
Ewan shrugged, “I want you to be satisfied with our arrangement,” he finally said, deciding that being candid was in both of their best interest. “I think that…if we enjoy being lovers…then we should enjoy being lovers and not feel guilty about it-although, I don’t want to push you further than you are willing to go…and I think that you should avail yourself more of the privilege of being my wife.”
“But what does that mean?” Cait sighed, her voice heavily tinted with frustration. She had already availed herself quite thoroughly of Ewan’s body…was there more? Did she dare to pretend that she was a real Mrs. Cameron?
Ewan wished that there was some way to soothe it, but all that he could do was shake his head. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised.
Cait allowed herself to curl into his arms-even though her mind was screeching in protest. She knew that she was missing her chance to have everything spelled out in black and white, to get the rules of their relationship. She needed them desperately! As long as there were boundaries, she trusted herself not to cross the line and let him know how desperately she cared. As it was, every time he took her into his arms, every kiss threatened to betray her.
For Ewan, however, the conversation was apparently over. He was already dragging Cait back into his arms and twining her tightly against his chest. For a moment, she thought that he would take her again, but his touches were tender, rather than passionate, as he stroked her cheek and back. “It’s still raining,” he murmured.
“Mmmmmm,” Cait murmured, waiting for him to explain himself.
“We’ll be trapped inside all day.”
She smiled, in spite of herself, “That sounds…promising…” she said lightly. And likely educational too, she thought, if the past few days had been anything to judge by. She decided not to think beyond the next few hours. Perhaps that was the best way to take her marriage to Ewan? To live within the moment and not to worry about the rest?
“Aye-lass! You’re wearing me out!” Ewan said when she reached for his waist. He kissed her despite the protest, a touch that began softly, but swiftly increased in urgency until they were both panting and aroused again. “I-!” Ewan began to growl against her neck, but stopped when there was a pounding at the door. He frowned. No servant would knock so boldly. James wouldn’t likely bother to knock. His father knew better than to call so early in the morning, which only left…
“I’m coming in!” Ewan cringed as his sister Muira’s voice bellowed through the door, “I’m coming in-don’t think I won’t! I’m a married woman, and I’ve seen you both naked before!”
Ewan didn’t doubt for a moment that she wasn’t joking. He bolted out of the bed and scooped up his clothes, fastening the belt at his waist and tossing Cait her dress before scooping up his shirt. He was still only half-clad, and Cait was wearing her shift. Muira seemed not to mind.
“Well, as it appears that you won’t be gracing us with your presence, I reckon I had to come to you!” Lady MacRae said, sweeping into the room with a breakfast tray, plopping it down onto a table, and then sinking into a chair and stealing a piece of their toast. “So very kind of you to let me know about the wedding,” she declared in a snit. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“Muira!” Ewan said in an appeasing tone. Tucking in his shirt, he walked to where his sister was sitting. “You can’t just barge in here and-“
“I did,” she said sweetly and offered him an apple. Sighing in annoyance, Ewan went ahead and took it. She smiled in satisfaction and then turned toward her friend, who was struggling into her corset, “Now, where was I?”
“Leaving?” Ewan said hopefully.
“Leaving!” Muira nodded, “That’s right, I was about to talk about people ‘leaving’ their sisters out of the loop when they off and get married.”
Ewan was about to point out that Muira had seen him since the wedding and knew perfectly well that it had occurred, but she seemed to be warming to her topic. “Just because you’re doing things the old way doesn’t mean that you can’t do them properly! I had hoped that someone would get to wear my dress…”
“Maybe Maisie can wear it when she elopes with a MacLeod,” Ewan said, in reference to his eldest niece.
Muira glared and crossed herself before continuing. “If you were hoping to go unnoticed, you’ve only made it worse-the entire castle is buzzing about it-and apparently, you made quite a splash at the village too. Everyone’s dying to get a look at you! Lady Cameron has declared tonight a feast night in your honor.”
“But-!” Cait sputtered helplessly. She automatically opened her mouth to say again that she wasn’t Ewan’s real wife, but she remembered what he’d said earlier, and what she’d decided to do, and remained silent-one day at a time.
“We don’t want a feast!” Ewan growled, “We don’t want any sort of to-do! Don’t the people around here have anything to do than worry about who I’ve gone and married?” he spat, not noticing the way that his phrasing affected Cait.
Muira scowled blackly, “Why yes-they could continue to dwell on your two cousins who are dead and gone. They could worry about the maurauders on the loose and wonder when their sons and fathers and husbands are going to be called to war. They could dwell on why my husband hasn’t come back yet,” Muira said, her voice cracking a little, “Forgive us for wanting a cheerful distraction.”
The speech had taken a lot out of the pregnant woman. Some of the angry flush was draining from her cheeks, and the skin beneath it was ashen.
“Muira!” Ewan said apologetically, rushing to her side.
Muira waved him off and stood unsteadily. He reached for her, but she waved him off. “I’m going back to my room,” she said quietly, “You two lovebirds obviously don’t want company…but please…”
“We’ll be there,” Cait said quietly, without consulting her husband. Ewan turned and stared at her, but his eyes were more surprised than angry. She went to his side, still straightening her skirts. “It’s really only natural that they’re curious,” she explained, deciding that Muira was right about the castle’s need for a distraction, and convincing herself that it would be better to have the whole ordeal over at once, rather than suffering through introductions as Ewan’s wife over and over
again.
Muira looked somewhat appeased by the concession. “Good. I’ll let Lady Cameron know,” she said quietly. She paused at the doorway. “I imagine that Uncle will want to speak with you before the feast, Ewan,” she said softly.
“What?” her brother frowned.
“I expect there’s something that he’ll need to announce-and, of course, he’ll need your input first.” She watched his face just long enough to see realization sink in, and then she turned to Cait. “What are you going to wear tonight?” Cait frowned, facing the same dilemma as she had the day before. Of course, none of her new fabric has been sewn into dresses yet, and she still had nothing suitable. Muira must have sensed her discomfort because she took her friend’s hand and squeezed it gently, “I have a pretty green velvet you could borrow. I was going to try to take it out, but there’s really no sense…” she patted her bulging tummy. “Come by later and we’ll see.”
Muira waddled out the door, leaving the newlyweds alone. Cait turned back toward Ewan, and was startled when she saw his face. It reflected a mixture of emotions: concern and pride-but also shock. Her eyes narrowed anxiously. Was the Cameron withdrawing his support for the wedding? He hadn’t seemed to mind three days before. “What is it, Ewan?” she said breathlessly, “What does the Laird want to speak to you about?”
“I can’t say,” Ewan responded, implying that he didn’t know although the truth was that he didn’t dare to speak the thought aloud. He had been understandably “distracted” since the raid, and he hadn’t had time to sit down and consider the ramifications of his cousins’ deaths. Donaid had been the tanist, the heir to the Lairdship of Clan Cameron. By rights it would now belong to him.
Ewan was silent as all this sank in. It was enough to send him reeling. Ewan had never expected to achieve the position of Laird. He’d never truly considered it. His status as war chieftain had been eminently suited to his talents and desire. It was a position of authority without any ultimate responsibility. He could run wild with his army, linger long in the beds of the lasses, always under the watchful eye and command of their Laird. If, however, that job fell to him…
“You can’t say, or you won’t?” Cait pressed gently. Her voice was imbued with the same tone of timid interest that she had used in the long years when they were merely friends. It was the same way she spoke when questioning a book she’d seen on his shelf, or questioning a bit of gossip.
Unfortunately, Ewan was in no mood to indulge in conversation. “Both,” he snapped back, and then paced to the window in a fit of agitation as he tried to work out what he was going to say.
He would have to accept, of course. Even if he didn’t want to be Laird-and what man didn’t secretly crave status and power?- there was no other choice for the good of the family. After Ewan, the task would fall to James-still too immature and unbloodied to assume the role. He could be Laird, but not a strong one. Ewan did not forsee the clan following his little brother’s commands for long. That would leave James open to uprising and dissent, especially among the lesser septs. Surely Laird Cameron would see this too? Which meant that the Lairdship would pass outside the core family…but to who? One of the MacEeantachs? Ewan’s flesh crawled at the thought, but he couldn’t dismiss the idea. The MacEantachs had more money and rents than anyone else. If they were denied, they could make the life of whoever was chosen short and hellish.
No, it would have to be him.
Ewan felt as if a huge weight had just been laid across his shoulders. It must have shown in his posture, because he felt Cait’s hands twine around his waist. “I’m here,” she whispered quietly. I always will be… She didn’t speak the words aloud, but he thought that he heard them inside his head…and he wondered why that should be.
Sighing heavily, Ewan twisted back toward Cait and accepted her embrace. She was so tiny, her head didn’t reach his shoulder, and so he cradled her against his chest-although he was the one receiving comfort. He waited for her to press for more information, or to try to trick him into conversation, but she didn’t. Seemingly instinctively she knew that he needed quiet time to think.
There was so much to consider! As if a boulder had fallen out of the sky and landed in his path Ewan suddenly understood that his life of carefree carousing was at an end. It was time for him to take responsibility-not only of the clan, but of himself…but where was he meant to start? At that precise moment, Cait’s head came to rest against his shoulder. Her little body tucked against him felt so warm and real. When she tightened her arms around his waist, he clung back, holding on to her as if she were an anchor in a stormy sea. Perhaps she was? Ewan pulled back a little to stare down at her beautiful face. He had chosen Cait the way that he chose all of his women: rashly and impulsively. He had decided on a whim to have a child and had settled on Cait as that child’s mother with the same slight degree of consideration. He had been drawn to her because she was pretty and friendly, of course, but he also had to admit it was at least a bit because she didn’t have anyone to stop him when he decided that he wanted to leave her behind. He had planned for his own irresponsible behavior-and that had to end. Why not with Cait?
Muira had challenged him to consider Cait as a real wife. Perhaps he should give it a try? The past few days in her company certainly hadn’t been difficult. She was more than he’d hoped for: both in the bedroom and out of it. There was another role that she could fill. If he was to become Laird, he needed a wife as well as a son. Muira had a castle of her own to tend to, and he didn’t have any other sisters or female cousins. There needed to be a Lady Cameron to see to day to day affairs of the household and the personal affairs of the clan. Could that woman be Cait?
It was laughable at first: Cait was half-English, and a servant! But she had always been accepted by the Cameron clan, her position as servant was secondary to her position as companion to the Laird’s wife and niece in Ewan’s mind. Perhaps most important of all, he’d already more or less hired her for the role. It wouldn’t do to have a child with Cait, and then go and marry someone else. Perhaps he and Cait shouldn’t have a child until things were sorted out.
Muira’s maid had brought Cait the new gown and then stayed to help her dress. Cait tried to fuss with the laces and hooks of the gown, but the maid, Liane, kept making frustrated sighs until Cait took the hint and simply sat still with her hands neatly folded on her lap.
The dress was very pretty, and almost new. Cait felt very satisfied with her appearance when Liane pronounced her ready and she stood in front of the mirror to look.
The deep green velvet was the color of a forest glade in high summer after the rain. It was much deeper than Cait’s eyes, but enhanced them, making them stand out like two bright pieces of jade. The dark hue also showcased her complexion. It looked almost bone white at her cleavage, neck and arms, and the green was a lovely compliment to her dark brown hair.
As a final touch, she wore her only piece of jewelry-a signet ring on a slender golden chain. It had been her mother’s-the only piece of her old life in the highlands that she was able to keep. Although they had been hungry and turned out of their lodgings more than once, she refused to sell it. Cait liked to imagine that it had something to do with her father. Despite his Englishness (and all that her mother had put her through over the years) Cait liked to imagine that her parents had shared a grand love story. The necklace was her greatest treasure, and she was glad to wear it on this night.
The scene in the dining hall was even worse than she had imagined. Everyone in the entire household-and much of the town, it seemed-had come to the dinner. No doubt they had relied upon the flimsiest pretense of business with the Laird to prevail upon him for supper and gain a chance to gawk at Ewan Cameron’s “wife.”
“…isn’t very…” “servant! She’s….” “…prettier than…” Little snippets of conversations reached Cait’s ears, but she refused to turn her head. Ewan must have heard them too-and she was mortified by that fact, but he didn’t show it He simply he
ld her hand tightly and hurried toward the main table.
Ewan hadn’t been to call on the Laird after all. Business (no doubt with the tradesmen now in attendance) had detained the old man, and so Ewan had stayed with Cait until time to eat. Old Cameron was sat already in his traditional place. Lady Cameron was on the other side, with Muira filling in one of the spaces where one of her cousins should have been. Cait would fill the other.
They filed into their seats, and then the old Laird indicated that the feast should begin. The servants streamed out of the kitchens with platters and bowls, taking the finest to the head table and the rest fanning out through the crowds.
Cait watched with morbid interest as the girls who, only a week earlier she’d been scrubbing dishes with laborer to tote their heavy loads and keep up with the demands of the boisterous diners. She still felt like she should be with them, and quickly diverted her eyes whenever one of them looked at the head table-especially when it came her turn to be served.
“Sarah” was the name of the squat, beefy-armed girl who offered Cait a selection of meats and vegetables. Their eyes met for only a second, and the new Mrs. Cameron was chilled to the bone by the contempt that she saw lurking in the other girl’s dull brown eyes. Cait thought she could read the woman’s thoughts: that Cait was fooling no one. She didn’t belong at the head table-and she had only gotten there by lying flat on her back.
“…don’t you think, Cait?”
Muira’s voice caused Cait to look up again. Her eyes widened anxiously when she realized that she had no idea what her friend had just said.
“I said,” Muira repeated patiently, “That since my brother didn’t see fit to give you a proper wedding, he might as well give you a proper honeymoon.”
Cait blinked, “A honeymoon.”
“A trip away from the castle,” Muira explained, “Home.”
“Home?” Cait asked, but instantly knew what Muira was talking about. A few times while they were girls they had summered at Muira’s father’s Manor. The house was little more than a grandiose cottage, but they’d had happy memories there. Cait’s heart surged at the thought of escaping from the castle for a while-but then she remembered that Ewan couldn’t possibly neglect his duties-not with things so tense. “We couldn’t,” Cait said regretfully, and then looked to Ewan, and passed him to the Laird. She was surprised to find the old man nod in agreement.
A Year and a Day Page 9