A Year and a Day

by Stephanie Sterling

  James nodded, “Aye. It seems unlikely-but do you doubt Lachlan? I don’t think he’d go so far with Muira in the state she’s in, unless he was pretty damn certain.”

  Ewan frowned at the mention of his sister and her husband in the same sentence. Even after seven years, he wasn’t quite resigned to the circumstances of their marriage. Still, he respected the other man as a warrior, and as a Laird. He agreed with James-Lachlan wouldn’t travel so far afield merely in a hunch.

  “What are we meant to do then?” Ewan asked, still frowning faintly. Now that some of the tension had leaked from his body, he sank back down on the cloth next to Cait and drew her into his arms.

  “Sit tight,” James said brightly.

  Ewan arched a brow, “The Laird sent you all this way to tell us that?”

  “Well, I didn’t want you worrying about Muira!” James replied brightly. “Besides, I thought that I might join you for a while.”

  “What?” Ewan yelped, instantly on his feet again.

  James shrugged sheepishly, “Well, there isn’t much going on at the castle, and I didn’t want you two to get lonely.”

  “We have PLENTY of company,” Ewan growled back. “And Mrs. Fitz is-“

  “Ah, about Mrs. Fitzpatrick…” James said sheepishly.

  Ewan had a sense that he should brace himself for what came next. “Yes?” he said, through gritted teeth.

  “She’s…uh…left.”

  “Left?” Ewan answered, agog.

  “She…er…might have decided to visit her sister when I arrived,” James said, and then continued almost proudly, “Said she wouldn’t stay in a house with me and my wickedness under its roof. Said I was likely to bring the daughter of the devil himself home slung across my shoulder,” he chuckled.

  “James!” Ewan chided, but couldn’t hide a smile. It did sound very much like something Mrs. Fitzpatrick would say. The old housekeeper shouldn’t get away with so much opinion-but she’d been a fixture at the house since they were babies, and neither boy could stand to see her go. At any rate, if the past were any guide, Mrs. Fitzpatrick would sulk in the village for a few days with her sister before returning to scold them all again and herd them off to church. “What are we meant to without a housekeeper?” he said more seriously and looked at Cait.

  “I can do it,” she spoke, automatically. Looking down at her feet, she missed Ewan’s instant scowl. It must have escaped James’s notice also because he jumped up to his feet.

  “There we are then,” James said, “Problem solved.”

  Ewan glared at his younger brother, “Or, Mrs. Fitzpatrick could come back and you could go.”

  James chuckled and shook his head. “Awww, you know how she is. There’ll be no tempting her back until she’s had a good stew and defamed us all to the gossips after Mass on Sunday. She’ll be back on her own time…and besides, you wouldn’t be sending your only brother off in the dead of winter to a bed on the cold, bare earth when you’ve a fine, empty home, now would you?”

  “It’s hardly the dead of winter,” Ewan protested, but with an undertone of weariness. More than twenty years as James older brother had taught him that, whatever the boy wanted, he was likely to achieve. He was going to add that there was definitely a bed or two in the surrounding country that he suspected James might find warmer than the “cold, bare earth”, but he stopped himself, not wanting to discuss such things around Cait. He might be the ONLY one to notice it, but she WAS a lady-and deserved to be treated as one.

  “We’d better head back,” Cait’s voice interjected softly, as if she was wary of coming between the pair. “If Mrs. Fitzpatrick hasn’t started dinner there won’t be anything to eat unless I get it started soon.”

  Ewan stared at her, amazed, “You cook?” he said.

  James answered for her, “Well, of course she does,” he said, “She’s been helping out in the kitchens since Muira left, hasn’t she? Say, Cait. Do you know how to make the pudding with the-”

  “JAMES!” Ewan roared, determined not to sit still and allow his wife to be ordered about like some common farmer’s wench. “Why don’t you head into the village and see if you can find a girl to keep things tidy at least.” He snorted, “Finding a woman to pick up after you sounds perfectly suited to your talents…and why not bring supper home from the pub while you’re at it.”

  “But-!” James started protesting, but stopped quickly when Ewan tossed him a piece of silver. It was more than enough for three dinners-perhaps it would take his brother a long time to spend it all. Apparently appeased, the youngest Cameron got back on his feet and dusted off his clothes. “Well, a man knows when he isn’t wanted!”

  “Good!” Ewan said definitively. He helped Cait up and then scooped up the blanket, which she neatly folded, “We’ll see you later, then.” He reached for Cait’s hand, and started tugging her toward the cottage without looking back. “I’m sorry about that,” he muttered when they were alone.

  “What? For James?” she asked.

  He nodded, “Aye. He’s a bit…well….he means well,” Ewan said, sighing, “At any rate, I certainly don’t expect you to be waiting on us. I’ll go and talk to Mrs. Fitzpatrick tomorrow.”

  “Oh! But I really don’t mind!” Cait said, emphatically, silently warming to the idea. At least if she was performing the role of a housekeeper she could be confident that she was doing her job well. She had experience in that at least, even if she had no idea how to be a proper wife. She would, frankly, welcome a distraction-especially if James was going to be around. She and Ewan couldn’t very well stay in bed all day. Besides, she was used to looking after Ewan. It was a job that she’d always enjoyed.

  Ewan kept up his protest until they returned to the house. Cait suspected he was hoping to discover that Mrs. Fitzpatrick hadn’t left at all. Unfortunately, that hope went unfulfilled. The snug house was empty. The kitchen fire had gone cold, and there wasn’t so much as a crust of bread prepared for supper.

  “I’d best get to it,” Cait said, as soon as they stepped inside and surveyed the situation. Ewan nodded his head reluctantly.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Help?” Cait scrunched her nose. She hadn’t expected Ewan to offer his assistance. She certainly didn’t want to send him away, but she couldn’t very well ask him to perform a menial task either. “Could you light the fire again?” she finally said, grateful to sort out at least one thing that he could do.

  While Ewan worked at the hearth, Cait took an inventory of the larder. A chicken was hanging from one of the eves, freshly plucked and ready to be scalded. She prepared a pot of water to boil as soon as the fire was ready and then set about trying to bake some bread. Very soon, she was so lost in the preparations that she didn’t even notice that Ewan was still there.

  Ewan finished building the fire, stoking it until a large oak log was burning steadily beneath Cait’s iron kettle. He asked what else that he could do, but was dismissed with a mutter, and so he simply sank into a chair beside the wall and watched her work.

  He didn’t like that Cait was being made to cook for him. She ought not to have to lift a finger-but it was fascinating to watch her work. He had instinctively expected her to fumble around aimlessly, as he imagined his sister might, but unlike in daily life, Cait’s actions in the kitchen were saturated with confidence. She didn’t hesitate or even slow as she sorted out vegetables and grains, and then chopped and pounded and seasoned them into what promised to be a delicious meal. The smells, at least, were magnificent. Ewan found his mouth watering very soon.

  At last Cait tucked the chicken into an oven and then wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing and went to fetch a broom.

  “Leave it!”

  Cait looked up sharply at the sound of Ewan’s voice.

  “Leave it?” she repeated, and then frowned.

  Ewan walked to where she was standing and gently pried the birch handle of the broom she’d selected out of her fingers and sat it against a
wall.

  “Leave the broom alone,” he said firmly. “I’ll let you cook, but I’m not going to have you sweeping up after me like you’re my chambermaid!”

  “But Ewan,” Cait giggled, “I am your chambermaid!” she fired back, enjoying the look of shocked embarrassment on his face.

  “You were,” he growled when he finally recovered. “But now-.”

  “Now I’m your wife,” Cait supplied in a tone that was edged with awe. She raised her hand, using the back of it to stroke his cheek, “That doesn’t mean that I have to stop taking care of you.”

  It wasn’t long before James returned. Cait had just taken the chicken out of the oven. The delicious aroma of food was reminding Ewan of how long it had been since his last proper meal.

  “May I-?” he started to ask if there was anything that he could do to help, but Cait had already efficiently thrust a stack of plates and spoons into his hands, and then nudged James to start setting out the steaming platters of food.

  It was amusing, and satisfying, to see the way that his brother jumped automatically to obey the command. The shy, reserved Cait that he usually saw in public was, clearly, quite at home giving commands in the kitchen.

  At last everything was settled. Ewan sat at the head of the table, with Cait on his right and James across from his brother. They were all gathered around the small, rustic table in the kitchen, seeing no need to spill into the dining room for such a tiny gathering of family.

  As soon as Cait was pulled up to the table James reached for a roll, but stopped when he caught Cait’s disapproving look.

  “Goodness!” she said, shaking her head, “You really are heathens! Don’t you pray over meals?” Then, when James was sitting contritely back in his chair she crossed herself, and then folded her hands to say grace.

  Ewan shot his brother a scolding look, trying to suppress a smile from the knowledge that he himself had been able to spear a piece of meat. He would have been caught out himself if not for waiting for his wife to go first. Apart from the formal prayers in the main hall (on the rare occasions that he was present for the beginning of the meal), he hadn’t said a blessing over bread since…He frowned when he finally remembered. It had been before his mother died.

  Ewan receded into himself for a moment as, for the first time in days, he remembered his mother. James was much too young to remember the beautiful, fire-haired woman who had tended them all so lovingly, or their sickly, but always-smiling brother, Robert. Robert was just a year older than Muira, and had been Ewan’s dearest playmate until the winter that the younger boy had come down with scarlet fever. Their mother, monsterously pregnant with yet another sibling, had nursed him devotedly, but to no avail. The week after Robert was buried, she had died herself.

  Ewan’s eyes suddenly felt achey and hot. He didn’t know if it was sadness from the memory, or from satisfaction in the present. He could recall so vividly the very last meal that they’d eaten together as a family: Muira refusing to stay in her chair, Robert sneaking his pudding, James still on their mother’s barely-visible lap while his father-so young and strapping then-sat at the head of this very table and told them about his day on the farm. He realized that he had missed the chaotic warmth of that moment, and the silent, unspoken bond of family. It had left a terrible, gaping hold that he had tried everything to fill: wenches, fighting, farming. It had all been for naught though. He hadn’t felt so complete again until this very night.

  “Is something wrong?” Cait’s voice snapped him out of the reverie.

  She looked so worried! Ewan instantly reprimanded himself for becoming mired in memories. “No, of course not!” he reassured her. Reaching across the table, he took her hand and squeezed it firmly, and then stroked the soft skin on her knuckles with his thumb.

  He held onto her for a moment but finally broke away to heap his plate with steaming food and then to sample his wife’s cooking.

  “Delicious!” he said warmly after chewing the first few bites and washing them down with a swig of wine, “Beautiful and talented.”

  Cait flushed, while James made a gagging sound. “Aren’t the pair of you sweet as treacle?” James said, rolling his eyes.

  Ewan shot him a sharp glance, “Well, if it doesn’t suit you, you’re welcome to head back to your…what did you call it? ‘Cold, bare earth’.” He said, but without any venom. James wouldn’t be James unless he was being annoying. Still, Ewan had no intention of hiding his affection. He was utterly charmed with his new wife and not afraid to show it.

  After this, James was wisely silent, except to lavish praise on Cait for the meal. For dessert they ate some sticky-buns that James had brought back from the village (Ewan’s silver not stretching to a full meal after the young man’s other expenditures). Then, James made a great show of stretching his arms and yawning. “Well, I suppose I’m off to bed.”

  “Alone?” Ewan said mocking disbelief.

  James merely smiled, “Sad, isn’t it? See what your little brother is reduced to?” but Ewan didn’t press and James took the hint, bowing to Cait and then heading off for his room. Cait watched him go. Then, she excused herself from the table. After removing the platters, she covered the leftover food with thin cloths and started stacking the dishes to wash.

  “Leave them,” Ewan said, assuming his favorite position: standing behind her with his arms about her waist.

  She shook her head in protest, “I can’t! They’ll spoil if I do!” but Ewan’s touch was insistent, beginning with his lips skimming up the side of her throat while his fingers stroked her belly.

  “I have more important work for you to do.”

  “Oh?”

  “Making our baby,” he whispered into her ear.

  He was gratified by the shiver that ran through Cait’s body. He felt the vibrations with his fingertips, and tightened his embrace.

  Cait melted against him. The mere suggestion of carrying his child was enough to send her weak in the knees. She’d never let herself imagine the possibility before, never dreamed that she’d be worthy. But now it was coming true. He skin tingled in anticipation of the delicious, addictive way that Ewan would go about making their baby a reality.

  “Come to bed, Beauty,” he whispered, coaxing her gently toward the stairs. Cait allowed herself to be led, moving intentionally slowly so that he kept a steady pressure on her back. Once inside their room she let him close the door. She walked to the side of the bed, to a pool of moonlight splashing in through the window and took off her clothes.

  She loved the ravenous way that he took in her form, making her feel like a fabulous pagan goddess rather than merely plain, sturdy, dependable Cait. It was oddly empowering: exposing her body bit by bit, stoking the plain, unabashed lust that she saw in her husband’s eyes.

  Feeling brave, she toyed with him for a moment, pretending to struggle with the hooks on the back of her skirt. As she’d suspected, he instantly lunged forward, “Let me!” he offered, abashed when she shook her head. “Patience,” she whispered, and then took her sweet time easing open the fastenings and inching the skirt down over her hips and onto the floor.

  Ewan was hard before she even reached for the straps of her chemise. He knew that it was obvious from the way that his clothes were all askew, but it didn’t matter. Surely Cait knew just from the look on his face how badly he wanted her. Even when he wasn’t inside of her, it seemed like all he could think about these days: how long he had to wait before he could sink back into her body again.

  He didn’t dare to imagine that Cait felt the same way. Still, she had to find some appeal in what he was doing. He paused to frown-either that, or she was a very accomplished actress.

  “Ewan?” Cait’s concerned whisper and instant frown laid his fears to rest. Cait was entirely too sweet and artless to participate in such a fraud. What did she stand to gain from it, after all? She hadn’t enticed him into her bed on the promise of money or a share of power. She had merely answered his request, giving herself
to him completely and without any demands in return.

  “I…” love you. The words were nearly out of Ewan’s mouth before he bit his tongue and the shock of what he had almost spoken rocked him to his very core. He inhaled sharply, still stunned by the near-declaration. “I love you”? Did he really?

  Cait was frowning again. Ewan reached forward to smooth away the downturned line of her lips, even as he continued to marvel in silence. Did he even know what love was? He wasn’t sure. He loved his family, of course, but he’d never felt for any woman the feelings that poets wrote about. He’d never met another person who made him feel complete-until he met Cait, he realized.

  “You?” Cait asked, her ivory brow still wrinkled in concern. Ewan kissed it smooth again and then bent toward her lips.

  “I’m not very sleepy,” he spoke teasingly, hopefully covering for his near misstep. If he did love Cait, then he wasn’t ready to tell her yet. He needed time to examine his feelings, to decide what it would mean to give himself to someone else so completely.

  Luckily, Cait hadn’t picked up on his pensiveness. She was focusing on his body. One of her slipped under his shirt. “I didn’t think that you were,” she whispered. “There was something about making a baby…”

  “Yes, the baby…We’ve been getting a lot of practice in…”

  “We have,” Cait nodded, looking as though this fact did not displease her one jot. Her fingernails raked through the short hairs on his chest.

  “Perhaps it’s time we took matters more seriously?”

  “You weren’t serious before?” Cait asked, arching a brow. Of course, they both knew that she might very well be pregnant already.

  “I was serious,” Ewan admitted, “But now…” But now I love you! It frightened him how close the words were to the surface. For his own protection, he sealed his mouth against hers and left the rest unsaid. He would show her with his body what he meant-how he longed to worship her, to please her in every way imaginable, and then-when their bodies were both sated, to plant a seed in her womb that would grow to be a part of them both. He wanted it so badly! His body was shaking with unspoken desires. He had always known Cait would be a perfect mother. He hadn’t realized before how very important it was that she be the mother of his child-that she be his wife.