A Year and a Day

by Stephanie Sterling

  “Ewan?” Cait squeaked. Finally, his eyes shifted toward her. He still didn’t speak, however. He took a long, draught of the liquor and then stared up at her accusingly. Cait’s hands tangled in the fabric of her skirt, bunching and wrinkling the worn fabric. “Say something, Ewan!” she whispered, desperate for something-anything- to happen.

  Ewan took another drink, sighed, and then sat the tumbler down. He gave Cait an awful, hollow, aching stare. “And what,” he began roughly, “Am I supposed to say?”

  “I…I don’t know!” Cait admitted, after floundering for a few seconds. “I don’t know what to say either!” she wailed, and then recanted when she figured that wasn’t quite right, “I’m sorry!”

  “Sorry?” Ewan asked, and then took another swig of whiskey, swallowing as though he were trying to rid a bitter taste from his tongue. “You’re sorry?”

  “Yes!” Cait whimpered, wondering if he was angry because she was, or because he didn’t think that she was sorry enough. “I…I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “You didn’t mean for what to happen, Cait?” he hissed, “You didn’t mean to let me believe for all these months that you’d been killed-or you simply didn’t mean to get caught?”

  “Both! Neither!” Cait’s eyes welled up with tears as she tried to work out what to say, “Everything, I’m sorry for everything!” she whimpered, even though a voice in the back of her mind was insisting that it wasn’t her fault. Ewan had been the one who had started the lies!

  Cait’s tears seemed to move Ewan where her words had not. He sighed wearily and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Don’t cry, Cait,” he begged, sounding like a man on the very edge of collapse.

  “But you’re so angry!” Cait responded, drifting toward him without realizing it. When she finally stopped, she was close enough to reach out and touch him if she tried-which of course she didn’t.

  Ewan looked up, eyes rimmed with red. “I’m not angry!” he insisted, “I’m just…confused.” He turned to look out the window for a moment, struggling to get his emotions under control. “God, Cait! If you knew how much I wanted this! And now that you’re here…it’s all twisted and tainted. I don’t understand why you stayed away.”

  “I didn’t know that you thought I was dead!” Cait blurted, meaning to speak in self defense and realizing, only belatedly, that she had incriminated herself.

  “How could I think anything else? The English raids-!”

  “I left before that,” Cait admitted sheepishly, “Only no one knew. I didn’t find out about the raids until later. I didn’t know they’d hit Glen Mohr until this week.”

  “You left?” Ewan repeated in disbelief. “When? Why?”

  Cait tried to frame her words carefully. It had all made so much more sense at the time! “I…I spoke to your sister,” she explained, “She told me what you were going to do.”

  “Which was?” Ewan said, breathlessly.

  “That you’d promised the Laird to break off our marriage!” Cait wailed, a little of the pain of betrayal returning.

  “She said-!” Ewan gasped, then his expression grew murderous, “MUIRA!” He growled, wondering if, ever in her entire life, his sister had even once stopped to think before she spoke!

  “Do you deny it?” Cait sniffed.

  At this, Ewan’s face grew guilty, “I promised him…but I couldn’t go through with it!” Without thinking, he reached forward to brush away her tears. Cait stiffened, bittersweet sensations racing across her skin at his first touch in so long. She wanted to melt into it-but she wanted to recoil too. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t feel what we had,” Ewan said roughly. “You had to know that I loved you!”

  “Loved?” Cait croaked, hearing nothing more than the past tense of the verb.

  Ewan closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly before he dared to look up. He wondered how Cait could dare to ask him such a question. How could she be so cruel? For months he’d been half-alive, jealously guarding a tiny flame of hope that she might be alive, doing everything in his power to find her if she was. He’d gone to Glen Mohr himself and turned over every stone, he’d fought the English like a man possessed; he’d lain awake so many nights remembering the sound of her voice and the feel of her skin. He could have had any woman-but he’d chosen her-and this was how she repaid him! He was furious! And yet…Ewan put his hand to his face, discreetly swiping away the rim of moisture gathering at his eyes. He wouldn’t dare let them turn into tears. He wasn’t willing to risk another cross word, or a frown, or even a denial if there was a chance she might go away again.

  “Where did you go?” he forced out, in lieu of answering her question. He was prepared to deal with facts. Emotions would have to wait.

  Cait took a deep breath. “To the Frasure lands. I…I went to the cottage,” she said, “and I kept walking. I was going to go to Edinburgh.”

  “What’s in Edinburgh?”

  “A ship to London,” Cait admitted, glancing at her feet again.

  “But you didn’t go?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  Ewan quirked a brow. “You didn’t have a choice?”

  “I ended up at Frasure castle and…well…” She flushed with embarrassment, “I got arrested.”

  “Arrested?”

  Cait blurted out the story of the stolen apples, and her friendship with Lady Frasure. “She’s like a mother to me,” Cait said quietly, “and she dotes on Robert so.”

  “Robert?” Ewan asked, face paling as another man was named.

  Cait hurried to change the subject, “I would have sent word, Ewan! I swear it! Only-only I thought that you didn’t want me to come back. As far as I knew, no one had ever come looking. I didn’t hear about the cottage. The next I heard, you were marrying someone else!”

  “But you did come back!” Ewan said, giving Cait another pang of guilt. She didn’t feel like revealing that her presence had come only at Lady Frasure’s absolute insistence.

  “I did,” she admitted cautiously. Her skin tingled when Ewan reached for her again. his hand rested on the curve of her waist.

  “God, Cait! Do you know what almost happened? Another minute and…”

  Without thinking, she laid her finger across his lips. Ewan started, but then leaned into the touch, pursing his lips so that it became a kiss. Cait shivered as his mouth gently brushed his skin and then drew away. Was it possible? Could he forgive her?

  He must have read the question in her eyes, because he answered, hoarsely. “I don’t know Cait. I don’t know if I can do it again…”

  “But?” Cait asked hopefully. There had never been a question of wanting Ewan back, only of whether or not it was a realistic dream. She’d do anything to win him again.

  “But…” Ewan said. He opened his mouth to talk, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, before she even knew what was happening, Cait felt his lips on hers.

  Cait had forgotten how all-consuming it felt to be caught up in Ewan’s arms. She felt surrounded, enfolded by his warmth and strength. All of fears that had plagued her for so long fled in the face of his love.

  Ewan might still be angry with her. He might still be justifiably furious, but his body assumed control. Rage melted into passion as his broad, rough palms skated over the curves which had ached for his touch so long. Time stood still as he held her, chest to chest and mouth to mouth. All of the agony of the past, all of the uncertain turmoil of the future faded to nothing in the face of the glorious present they shared.

  She needed him. Cait felt as if a part of her very self-a limb or a piece of her heart-had finally been returned. It was such delicious torture. She never wanted it to end.

  Ewan echoed her reluctant surrender. He meant to pull away at every instant, he couldn’t…didn’t. Every touch drove him deeper, but he couldn’t work up the will to care. Tomorrow he’d be angry. Tonight, he was willing to sacrifice his pride to revel in all of his dreams coming true.

  Cait was alive!<
br />
  Ewan repeated that simple, joyful phrase over and over again in his mind. He still didn’t understand why she’d left. It still hurt him that she hadn’t trusted him, but those things didn’t seem to matter so much while her body was burrowed against his chest.

  He kissed her like he would never have a chance to kiss her again-the way he wished he’d had a chance to when he’d said goodbye before. He stroked and plucked and strummed her skin until they were both damp and gasping for breath. Only then did he permit Cait to wriggle free.

  Cait’s cheeks flushed crimson as she looked up at the Laird. “What are we going to do?”

  “Do?” Ewan asked, still dazed and winded from their embrace.

  “About…about Lady MacMillan,” Cait asked shyly, well aware that she lacked even a smidgen of entitlement to inquire abouther replacement. She laid her emotions bare as she asked him, “Are you going to have to marry her after all?”

  There was a moment of breathless silence. Cait bit her lip and swayed unsteadily on her feet as she waited for his answer to fall. When it came, it was unexpected:

  Ewan laughed.

  “Ewan!” Cait snapped, not at all amused, “I don’t think that’s very funny!”

  The Laird reached for her fingers, twining her tiny digits through his own, “I’m afraid that I have to disagree.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t believe you asked that question!”

  Cait’s lip protruded into a pout, “And why is that?” she sniffed, “It seems perfectly logical, considering you’ve a whole castle full of guests waiting for you to marry someone else!”

  “But I can’t marry someone else,” Ewan said lightly, bending forward to lay a comforting kiss against her brow. His concern was still deliciously potent. She melted immediately, smiling in spite of herself.

  “Why not?” Cait asked, not really wanting to press the issue, but desperate for reassurance.

  “Because…” Ewan whispered against her ear, pausing in between words to flick his tongue against the shell, “In case you’ve forgotten…” he tried to keep his voice light-although it was starting to seem like a very real threat!“I’m already married to YOU!”

  Cait’s face twisted into confusion, “I was married to you,” she said carefully.

  “Did you revoke your vows?” Ewan asked.

  “No, I…I didn’t think that was necessary,” Cait said breathlessly. “I thought…that…”

  Ewan’s face flashed with a smile which he quickly suppressed, “Well, I didn’t either,” he admitted. “Owing, of course, to the fact that I thought you were dead.”

  “But what does that mean?” Cait asked, searching his face. “Surely it doesn’t-!”

  “Mean that we’re still married?” Ewan finished for her. He reached up to stroke a lock of hair out of her eyes, utterly unable to keep his hands off of her skin now that he’d finally decided that being angry had lost to his sense of relief. “I’m afraid so,” he chuckled at Cait’s look of horror, “Didn’t you listen to the vows you took?”

  “No…I….” …Was too busy wondering when I’d wake up, Cait thought, but didn’t say. She stared at Ewan-at her husband-like a stag sighted by hunters.

  “So, it looks like you’re stuck with me,” Ewan whispered, reaching over to brush a kiss against her cheek, “Unless…” he frowned sharply, “Unless you don’t want to be? Unless you want to go back to the Frasures?”

  “No!” Cait blurted, and then felt guilty for throwing off her kind patrons so quickly. “I mean…I…I’d rather come home,” she admitted, “I’d rather be here with you.”

  Ewan was just leaning forward to kiss her again when they were interrupted by a heavy knock on the door and a strange, whining sound outside. “Go away!” Ewan roared automatically. He tightened his arms around Cait’s waist, clearly determined not to let her go for a good long while. The knocking, however, persisted.

  Ewan’s face went bright red as he reluctantly released Cait and stalked toward the door to see who was brave enough to refuse a direct order from the Laird. He flung the door open-and then stared. Alice was standing there-cradling a squalling baby in her arms.

  Ewan’s jaw dropped as he studied the baby-which looked for all the world like a miniature Cait! It had the same colored skin, the same dark hair, and it’s eyes were already shaded frosty green. Most striking of all were the similar features, and the way that its tiny arms flailed in the direction of its…mum?

  “Well, I’m sorry, sir!” Alice blurted, full of confidence as she strode into the room, curtseyed sketchily to Ewan, and then turned to Cait. “But he’s hungry and just couldn’t wait. Lady Frasure sent me to fetch you.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Mary Alice handed her little bundle to Cait. Then, her cheekiness apparently knowing no bounds, scuttled off without another word.

  Ewan stared at his wife, barely knowing what to say. Cait? A wetnurse? How was that possible unless…? His heart twisted painfully as he considered the possibility. Had Cait forgotten to renounce her vows because she’d already married someone else?

  “Yours?” he croaked, staring down at the child when the maid had finally gone. He felt a surge of relief-along with disbelief-when Cait shook her head. That quickly evaporated in the face of her guilty flush.

  “Ours,” she finally whispered.

  “OURS?” Ewan fairly croaked, and sat back down heavily in his chair.

  Cait bit her lip uncertainly, trying to read his expression. He looked as if a cannonball had just landed in his lap! “That’s why I went away!” she blurted, unable to stand another bout of silence, especially when things were going so well.

  Ewan shook his head, dazed and numb, “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

  “I tried!” Cait insisted, jostling little Robert and trying to get him to shush. There really wasn’t any point in both of them crying! “I was going to tell you when you came to visit…only, you were so changed! You kept going on and on about how you didn’t want a baby…”

  Ewan cringed as he remembered. He’d been trying to convince himself, more than her! After all, the desire to have a child-a son-was what had started him off with marrying Cait to begin with. He had simply felt so trapped by the Laird’s commands!

  “I didn’t mean it!” Ewan said, desperate to reassure her. He cast an eye toward the baby-his baby-curious and suddenly overwhelmed.

  Cait caught the look. “Would you like to see him?”

  “Him?” Ewan echoed, his voice thick with awe.

  Cait nodded gently and held the child out for its father to see.

  Unfortunately, Robert wasn’t at his best. He was still squalling at the top of his lungs and had turned red-faced from his exertions. He didn’t smell quite perfect either. Cait fretted as she watched Ewan’s face. To her astonishment and relief, Ewan didn’t seem to care. He had the strangest smile on his face.

  “I have a son,” Ewan said, a note of pride clearly coloring his voice. He didn’t seem to notice the screaming or the stink. The tentative smile on his face erupted into a full fledged grin. “A son!” he said again, this time sounding excited.

  Cait released a breath that she hadn’t realized that she was holding. “He was born this past winter,” she told him, leaning over his shoulder. She felt a bubble of pure warmth well up in her heart as she watched them together, father and son, for the very first time.

  “A handsome little thing, isn’t he?” Ewan said thoughtfully, his gaze becoming more worshipful by the second.

  “Like his father,” Cait answered quietly, finally allowing herself a ghost of a smile.

  Ewan lifted the baby up, apparently intending to inspect his limbs, but was met with a scream that eclipsed all of the others in intensity and volume. “Quite a set of lungs too!” Ewan said, more proud than annoyed.

  Cait giggled and plucked the baby out of Ewan’s arms. “He’s hungry,” she explained, remembering Ewan’s fondness for meals and wondering if her son’s voracious ap
petite was something else he had inherited from his father. She quickly untied the front of her bodice and offered the baby her breast. She smiled when he calmed immediately.

  Ewan leaned over her shoulder, reaching forward to stroke the baby’s cheek. “What’s his name?” he asked in a hushed voice.

  “Robert,” she answered quietly.

  “Robert,” Ewan echoed, still stroking the baby’s skin, “Little Robert. Like-like my wee brother who’s gone.”

  Cait caught her breath. Honestly, she’d all but forgotten about the former Robert Cameron. She had been thinking of Lady Frasure’s son when she selected the name.

  So many Roberts, Cait thought, holding her baby closer, so many reminders of loss. Cait was determined that this Robert was a symbol of rebirth. She had gained so much. Cait’s eyes welled up with tears when she realized that, once again, fortune had smiled. In another dizzying turn of events, she was home again.

  Ewan sat back into his chair and pulled Cait-and by extension, their baby-into his arms. He stared down at both of them adoringly as Robert continued to nurse. He felt so odd. He likened the feeling to the one just after battle was over: euphoric, relieved and exhausted.

  “He needs a change,” Cait remarked, breaking the comfortable silence between them when she got a whiff of the baby. “I’ll have to go back to my room and get a change of nappy.”

  “We could send a maid,” Ewan murmured, reluctant to release his wife from the pleasant cocoon that their bodies had formed.

  Cait considered the idea, but rejected it. “I need to speak to Lady Frasure,” Cait said, worried about how much the old lady had heard already. “She needs to hear the truth from me.”

  “What did you tell her?” Ewan asked, frowning.

  Cait sighed, knowing very well that he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “I’ll tell you later,” she promised, popping a kiss on his cheek.

  “I’ll come with you,” Ewan countered. He couldn’t explain it. Now that he finally had Cait-and little Robert-back in his life, he couldn’t bear to let her out of his sight.

  Cait nodded, “Oh! But don’t you have things to do?”