A Year and a Day

by Stephanie Sterling

Only, there wasn’t. Over the following week, Cait tried every trick that she could think of in her attempt to get away. She feigned sickness (both her own, and Robert’s), only to be thwarted by the good castle doctor-who recommended a change of view! She created important business that couldn’t be missed-only to be informed that “the Laird’ took precedence over anything else that she might be inclined to do.

  Finally, in a bit of desperation, Cait pretended not to recall the time that they were meant to set off, having none of her packing finished, in the hopes that the Laird and Lady would go on without her. To her horror, Isobel had responded by sending eight housemaids up to help her pack-and they hadn’t been delayed more than half an hour.

  She could have run away, Cait thought, sitting up on the box with the driver. Lady Frasure had Robert with her in the carriage, doting and fussing over him happily as if he were her own grandson-so that Cait half-imagined that her real purpose on the journey was to serve as wet nurse for her son. Over the near year she’d spent with the Frasures, she’d managed to regrow her savings, and so there was no reason that she couldn’t now complete her original plan and flee to Edinburgh, and then to London and beyond. She supposed, worryingly, that she had simply become comfortable at Castle Frasure-comfortable enough to take on a great degree of risk!

  Sitting on top of the carriage, watching unfamiliar scenery scroll by, Cait tried to think of the worst that could possibly happen. She supposed that Ewan might see her, and accuse her of having run away. That was perfectly true, of course-but she would counter that it had all worked out for the best. He was marrying a woman suitable for her situation and she…? She had moved on, Cait schooled herself to tell him. It would be a mistake to let him know about little Robert. It wasn’t fair, perhaps, but probably for the best for all parties involved. Surely Ewan wouldn’t say anything? After all, he had the most to lose. He had already replaced her after all.

  Cait clenched her eyes, trying to ward off the tears that instantly sprang to her eyes at when she thought of how quickly she had been forgotten. True, it had been a full year, but that didn’t even begin to feel like enough time to get over the hurt-at least if he felt anything like she had-which, of course, he hadn’t.

  She would simply avoid him.

  Cait supposed she was at an advantage. Serving as a maid at the castle for so many years, she had become an expert at remaining invisible. She couldn’t imagine that she would be expected to accompany the Laird and his wife to the ceremony-that duty she would flatly refuse, regardless of the consequences! She would make it through-even if she didn’t know how!

  Everything was happening too fast!

  First, Ewan was welcoming his sister and brother-in-law into the castle. It didn’t feel like more than a heartbeat later that he was sitting in his study hearing the announcement, “Lady MacMillan has arrived.”

  Muira was sitting with her older brother, ostensibly to demonstrate how little Ewan Graem was just about to walk, but she was obviously there to soothe her sibling’s nerves. She glanced at him quickly, shooting him a comforting look as he said in his most polite tone, “Please see that Lady MacMillan is provided with refreshments and tell her that I will be happy to receive her at her leisure after she’s had an opportunity to rest.”

  “Of course, sir,” the maid replied, bobbed a curtsey, and then disappeared.

  Muira studied her brother carefully. “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” he sighed. “Besides, it’s rather too late to back out now?”

  Muira looked as if she dearly wished she could disagree, but couldn’t. Instead, she scooped up the baby, and then walked to where her brother was sitting. She placed a comforting kiss on his temple. “Cait would want you to move on,” she assured him, “She’d want you to be happy again.”

  “Would she?” Ewan growled. He wasn’t convinced. If he’d been Cait, learning what Muira had told her just before she died, he’d want nothing more than his own head on a platter-or at least to assure his permanent disability to trifle with any other women again. Then again, Cait was a merciful woman. She had always thought of others before herself. She was soft and gentle and caring and…

  “Ewan?”

  He blinked and looked up at his sister. “What?” he asked, noting that she had been speaking for some time.

  “I asked if you wanted me to stay for the interview. I expect she’ll come calling soon?”

  “Yes,” Ewan said firmly, and then started at a knock at the door. “Enter!” he said, hating the way that his voice almost cracked when he spoke.

  The party who stepped across the threshold, however, was not his future bride.

  “James!” Muira and Ewan said in unison.

  “How was your journey?” Lady MacRae asked-although all three knew that the real question on everyone’s mind was really “What is Lady MacMillan like?”

  “Very pleasant,” James said, with a surprising amount of evasiveness. “We made excellent time.”

  “Really?” Ewan said, frowning, “We were expecting you last night.”

  “Well…the weather,” James muttered and shrugged. “At any event-we’re all here now.”

  “Good,” Ewan answered, although it didn’t sound as if he meant it. “And…did Lady MacMillan have a pleasant journey as well?” he asked, finally edging toward the questions that he meant to ask.

  A strange look passed across James’ features, but was quickly gone. “Yes, I believe so,” he said, still oddly formal. “She’s being installed in her quarters now.”

  “Excellent,” Ewan said. Then silence fell between the men.

  Muira glanced between her brothers. She had been around men often enough to know when her presence was no longer required. She could guess what they wanted to discuss, and so she excused herself with a knowing smile. “I’ll see if Lady MacMillan needs any help settling in,” she announced, “I’ll bring her back here when she’s ready.”

  “Thank you, Muira,” Ewan said, dismissing his sister. He waited until she was gone. Then, he turned anxiously toward James. “Well…” he said, taking a nervous breath, “How is she?”

  James took an unusually long time to reply.

  “Nice,” he answered, uncharacteristically succinct. Ewan had never known his brother to lack an extensive opinion-either positive or negative-on the charms of any woman before.

  “Glowing praise,” he growled, to which James replied:

  “She’s very pretty…intelligent, reserved….and the children aren’t bad. I think that she’ll do nicely.”

  “Nice, again,” Ewan muttered.

  “Do you want to fall in love with her?” James snapped, causing Ewan to pale.

  “Of course not,” he muttered, and the returned to his papers.

  “Well, I suppose you’ll have to decide for yourself then,” James snipped, and then let himself out of the room.

  When he was alone again, Ewan sighed and shoved the papers off of his desk, wishing that Lady MacMillan would quit dawdling so that he could get the introductions over with! It wasn’t as if he had high hopes for their marriage. He didn’t think that he was capable of being in love again. Lady MacMillan was high bred and, apparently, fertile-the only qualifications he required-so it didn’t really matter if he could stand to be in the same room with her or not. Still, he was anxious. Perhaps it was the sense of guilt that he still carried for how things had ended with Cait? He had pretended that Cait was simply a marriage of convenience too-never admitting until it was much too late how desperately much he cared.

  Cait hadn’t been quite so “officially suitable” as Lady MacMillan-Mary- he tried to force himself to think of the lady by name. Cait had nothing to recommend her as the wife of a Laird: she wasn’t high born. She wasn’t wealthy…and yet, she had been so utterly perfect for him in a way that he couldn’t completely describe-and which had so much more value than all the things that he could!

  Ewan didn’t know how much time passed. Eventually there was ano
ther knock on the door. The quick, confident rap informing him instantly that it was his sister-no doubt with his fiancé in tow.

  “Enter!” Ewan bellowed, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

  It was no more than a second before the door creaked open, letting Muira and the other woman inside.

  James’s description of Lady MacMillan as “Very pretty” might have been hyperbole, considering the women of their usual acquaintance. She didn’t hold a candle to Cait. He was instantly annoyed with himself for automatically making the comparison, but it was true. She certainly wasn’t unattractive, however. She had a sweet face, kind blue eyes, a clear complexion, and a nice enough figure for a woman who already had two children. Her wavy blonde hair was braided neatly around her head, and she was wearing a well-cut blue dress that bespoke the MacMillan riches.

  Muira looked between the pair, clearly trying to read their initial reactions. “Ewan, this is Lady Mary MacMillan,” she announced, at which the other woman curtsied.

  Ewan bowed in response.

  “Lady MacMillan, this is my brother, Laird Ewan Cameron.”

  The lady dipped again, earning another reciprocal nod. She finally spoke in a soft, whispery voice, “I’m very pleased to meet you, Laird Cameron.”

  “Pleased to meet you as well,” he responded, feeling as though this was all terribly wrong-as if he would be amused if it weren’t all happening to him. There was a moment of awkward silence. “Did you have a pleasant journey?” he inquired, sticking to the “script” of polite conversation, still not letting it sink in that this woman, this stranger was going to be his wife in a matter of days!

  “Very pleasant,” Mary responded. Apparently she was not much for talking, or perhaps she was a little shy.

  “And my brother?” Ewan pressed, a little desperately, “He wasn’t too difficult a travel companion, I presume?”

  A flush broke across the lady’s features, and she looked down into the folds of her gown. “No, sir,” she responded. “Not…not at all.” And then quiet descended again.

  Muira directed her sister-in-law-to-be to a chair and rang for some tea. No one spoke while they waited. When it finally arrived, Muira took matters into her own hands. “Lady MacMillan’s son was very excited to see the stables,” she announced. “He’s very keen for you to take him riding soon. Won’t that be nice?” she asked, and then snorted when she received no response. Giving up on her brother, she turned to her guest, “Lady MacMillan, I’m so anxious to see your dress! Did I hear you’d had it sent over from France?”

  “The fabric,” the Lady answered, looking miserable as she bit into a scone.

  Muira sighed heavily and shook her hands, apparently fed up with both of them. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone to get to know each other better,” Muira said, in a tone so frankly sarcastic that Ewan could almost hear the “lovebirds” that she omitted. “I’d like to see my husband before the other guests start to arrive. Call if you need me!” she announced, and then with a swish of her skirts, she swept away.

  Ewan endured another hour with Lady MacMillan before finally pleading clan business as an excuse to let her go.

  He knew, instantly, that he had made a terrible mistake. Mary wasn’t awful. She just wasn’t…

  What? Ewan asked himself, trying to put his finger on the flaw.

  Cait, he answered wearily, sensing that it was the truth.

  She just wasn’t Cait. She never would be-but it was too late to back out now.

  “What is it? Why are we stopping?” Cait asked, jarring suddenly awake. A light rain had started falling and she’d been permitted inside the carriage with the Laird and his wife. However, as it was only the first day of their journey and it was clearly still light outside, she wasn’t expecting to stop so soon.

  “Something in the road,” the driver called back into the carriage. “It will only take us a moment to clear it.”

  The Laird nodded. Isobel started to rise. “I think I’ll take a moment to stretch my legs.”

  However, to the surprise of both ladies, the Laird blocked her way. “I don’t want you to see this,” he said.

  “See what?” Isobel and Cait both asked at the same time.

  Of course, Laird Frasure ignored Cait, who bit her tongue and flushed for speaking out of turn. Cait instantly looked out the window, despite his admonition and clapped her hand over her mouth. She recognized where they were-the little village just past Glen Mohr, only….

  “This is where the English struck this past spring,” the Laird explained gently. “They didn’t leave too much of it standing. Poor Camerons. I hear that the Laird even lost family here.”

  Cait felt her stomach twist. Did he mean Muira and the children? She was about to inquire-but then remembered that she wasn’t meant to know anything about the Cameron clan. She settled down, and continued to stare anxiously out the window.

  Her thoughts were restless for the rest of the journey-not just with worry about her friends, but also for the clan in general. Everywhere she went, there were signs of the English invasion. She knew that the Camerons had managed to beat them back-but at what cost?

  Laird Frasure made an off-handed remark that Ewan’s marriage was a political necessity meant to ensure the Cameron’s continued strength. She didn’t know that it helped or hurt to know that Ewan wasn’t meant to be in love with the woman he was about to marry. On the one hand, a bit of her jealousy died. On the other, it only underscored that marriage was all about business to him!

  Cait had hoped that the two remaining days of the journey would give her time to prepare, but they passed more quickly than she had anticipated. All too soon, she began to recognize the landscape that they were rolling past, and she sat away from the window, huddled over the baby lest one of the Camerons outside the window recognized her face.

  Cait began to panic when she realized that she was sure to be recognized back at home. The servants would certainly all remember her, and her former relationship with the Laird. She was frankly relieved when Lady Frasure told her, regretfully, to expect to spend most of her time in the room.

  “It really won’t be the place for a baby,” she said, “even one as dear as our little Robert-and I’ll want to have you close at hand.”

  Despite that reassurance, Cait was frankly terrified that she was going to be discovered. She could barely believe her luck when, upon their arrival just after dusk that evening, they were met by a young kitchen girl she’d never met, directed to rooms on the third floor, and told Laird and Lady Frasure that Laird Cameron and his fiancé would be happy to meet them down in the dining hall.

  Cait remained in the room to unpack while the Laird and Lady went down. They didn’t return until late. Then, after helping Lady Frasure undress and tucking Robert down to sleep, she simply went to bed herself.

  Cait couldn’t sleep. It felt altogether too odd being in her old home-and no one knowing that she was there.

  Cait wondered who was asleep upstairs in her old room. Was it the little kitchen maid who had let them into the house? Was it one of her old friends? Who had taken her place in Ewan’s bed? Was Lady MacMillan installed there already? Cait tortured herself with the questions. As the clock in the outside hall chimed midnight she found that she was no closer to sleep than she had been back at noon.

  The grumbling of her stomach wasn’t making her thoughts any easier to ignore. Deciding that hunger was, at least, one ill that she could repair, she kissed the baby, and then slipped out of the room.

  As she had hoped, the castle was silent. She didn’t bother with a candle, treading her way down the servant staircase by memory until she reached the kitchens and slipping inside quickly for a slab of cheese and a hunk of bread. Some leftovers were sitting out from the feast, and she helped herself to a few of these as well, gulping down some fruit tarts and a bit of meat. Feeling pleasantly full, she started back up the stairs, deciding it was faster to go along the front. She instantly regretted her mistake, howe
ver. She had only topped the first flight of stairs when she ran almost smack into a familiar face-and then heard a blood-curdling scream!

  Cait’s heart clattered to a stop, stunned and frightened by the sound. She stiffened. Then, as the significance of what she was seeing sank in, she did the only thing she could: she ran.

  Muira was alive. Cait took a morsel of comfort from seeing her friend apparently well, but it was small compared to her absolute horror at being seen. Maybe Muira hadn’t recognized her? Maybe she would manage to get away and Muira would think it was merely a trick of the night? She clung to the hopes, even as she ran with all her might, hearing Muira’s pursuing footsteps growing farther behind-until she tripped on a rug at the foot of the stairs.

  Cait went sprawling forward, landing heavily on her hands. She thought that she had mildly twisted her ankle as well because, though she tried to scramble to her feet, she couldn’t move with her usual speed. She was only half-way standing when she felt a hand fall heavily on her shoulder and she was forced to turn around.

  Ewan’s sister looked just as she had on the day Cait had left, almost a year before. Still wearing her dinner gown, she must have been completing some last-minute hostess duties before retiring to bed. Her eyes were wide as saucers and her face was stamped with disbelief.

  “Cait? Thank God! You’re alive!”

  Despite the words, Muira was staring at Cait as if she were a ghost-and the former maid and companion wasn’t certain how she was meant to respond. She stared back, hefting her chin, “As you see.”

  “We thought…” Muira began, looking as though the memory pained her, “We thought that the English had got you! The morning after I spoke with you…a messenger came. I took the children and ran. We looked for you, but there wasn’t time! Oh, Cait! I thought you’d been killed…or worse…” The tears brimming at the edge of Lady MacCrae’s lashes gave Cait a pang of guilt. She patted Muira’s shoulder gently, still wondering how much of the truth she ought to reveal. She was also stunned by Muira’s announcement, and wondered if it was true. Did they really think that she’d been killed instead of running away? Was that why Ewan had never looked for her? Was it possible that he would have wanted her back? Could it really be that he didn’t know? Cait’s heart started beating faster as dormant hopes stirred back to life.