“I missed you too,” Cait’s voice nearly broke as she spoke the words. It was strange, but the enormity of what she’d lost was only now beginning to sink in. What a fool she had been to leave! How lucky she was to be forgiven. “Oh, Ewan, I’m so-!”
“Shhhhh!” he whispered, laying a finger against her lips and then quickly following with his own mouth. He didn’t want to hear her apologies. He didn’t want to hear anything but the rasp of her breath and the wet slap of skin against skin as he claimed her once again. “You’re mine now,” he whispered, when he finally trusted that he had kissed her into silence and drew away.
Cait nodded dreamily. She didn’t resist when Ewan’s fingers rooted at the front of her gown. He tugged loose the laces, and then stripped the bodice away, leaving her in her chemise and skirt.
“My beautiful, perfect girl,” he puffed, continuing his work of peeling away her clothes. He finally succeeded in removing her skirt, and then dipped to kiss her lips soundly once again. His own body was aroused nearly to the point of pain, but he wanted to hold back a little longer-to savour what he had finally regained.
Ewan had never tended her so carefully: covering every inch of her exquisite body in tender kisses before he even moved to remove his own clothes. As soon as he was naked, Cait reached for him, but he intercepted her hands and pushed them aside. “Not tonight,” he breathed against her ear.
Cait whimpered in concerned confusion, earining another kiss.
“It’s your turn,” Ewan whispered. Tonight, he only wanted to show her how much he missed her-how much he loved her.
He had never loved her so slowly. Time wound down to a crawl as he continued to worship her, only gradually arranging his body between the cradle of her legs. “I wanted this so badly,” he told her, “Needed it.” There had been no one but Cait. He couldn’t account for it. As soon as he’d had her, everyone else had faded to insignificance. The moments that he shared with Cait, around her and inside her, were as different from his other encounters as fire was to ice.
Cait shuddered when he nudged against her, giving him assurance that she was as needy and hungry as he. She was so wet! Ewan groaned as the head of his sex bobbed against her opening. He dragged it through the hot folds, before he bucked against her again. “I want…” he started to confess, but didn’t get a chance to answer. Cait wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him toward her.
“I need this now,” Cait finished for him, “Ewan, I’ve been waiting so long…”
Minutes, hours, months…a lifetime, Ewan finally decided, putting up a final resistance as Cait’s fingers plucked at his skin, coaxing him forward to make them one.
“Never leave me,” he groaned, intent on exacting the promise before he opened himself to her again. He wouldn’t live if he lost her a second time. He wouldn’t have the will.
“Never!” Cait promised, and then further words between them were unnecessary. Ewan surged into her body with a single, powerful stroke, leaving them both breathless and mute.
He wanted to stay where he was and savour the moment, but his body wouldn’t allow him to rest. He needed to move. Soon, he was doing so, rocking forward in steadily more powerful strokes as Cait bucked and writhed against him.
She felt so good! He’d forgotten how good she felt. He had to struggle to stop himself from coming immediately. Every time he looked down at her body, glimpsed her passion-glazed eyes or felt the hot, ragged puff of her breath he wanted to explode.
“Cait, my Cait…my Beauty,” he puffed the words into her ear again and again, wanting to cover her in his possession. He didn’t want her to be any doubt that this was the beginning of the rest of their lives.
“Ewan!” she answered back in a steadily more-strangled voice. He watched her carefully, gauging her reaction and adapting his technique, intent on pleasuring her beyond endurance. It wasn’t long before his plan began to work. He felt her tightening and pulsing around him.
“A little more,” he groaned, his hand tightening almost painfully on his waist as he adjusted the angle between their bodies. He was determined to time everything just right, desperate to share the ecstasy when their bodies finally broke. “A little…a…” he jerked his hips upwards, grinding hard against her clit. Then, Cait’s lips parted to release a keening little wail and he was finally, completely undone.
Ewan’s body came to a shuddering stop, and then he spilled inside his wife, barely able to breathe as wave after wave of pleasure surged and crashed around his body. He had almost forgotten how good it felt with Cait. His body was utterly sated. More than that, he felt wholly more at peace than he had since the day he’d left Glen Mohr.”
Ewan knew that he must be crushing his tiny wife, but he couldn’t bring himself to move until she asked. So, he remained as he was, smothering her beneath the warm blanket of his flesh, limbs knotted together, and breath mingling.
Had it always been like this? Ewan was astonished to think that it had, and that anything his uncle might have said or done would have had the power to drag him away. Upon reflection, however, he considered that things had changed. Over time, the emotions he felt for the woman had distilled, growing stronger and more distinct. The veil of doubts that had hung between them was finally ripped away. Cait knew-or at least he hoped she knew-that he wanted her-damn her name or her position! He knew that nothing else mattered more than the love that he felt for his wife.
“Let’s lay like this forever,” he mumbled sleepily when Cait began to squirm.
He was met with a giggle, “We can’t.”
“Why?” Ewan countered, letting his eyes start to drift shut. What was the bloody point of being the laird if he couldn’t indulge his own whims. Perhaps Cait was right that they couldn’t remain in bed for eternity, but surely he could eke out a few days? After all, the clan had been expecting him to take a honeymoon!
With Mary, he reminded himself wearily. Then, despite his best intentions, he thought about the mess with the MacMillans and the rest of his clan waiting to be unravelled until he finally emerged.
Well, even that could wait a few hours, he decided, finally turning onto his side and dragging Cait back against his chest. He had learnt since becoming Laird that moments of peace were sometimes few and far between. He had to seize them, and cling to them for as long as he was able.
“Is this real?” Cait whispered as she started drifting to sleep. Her lips parted into a soft yawn. It didn’t seem possible. One week ago she was a servant. Now she was the Cameron Laird’s wife!
“It’s real,” Ewan answered, his own burr soft and rough as he also drifted toward slumber.
Cait nestled more snugly into his embrace, and hen let her eyes begin to close. Her body felt sticky, sore, battered-and positively perfect! She settled down, fully intending to sleep for days-but it turned out that it was not to be.
It couldn’t have been more than a few hours before a heavy banging on the bedroom door jolted them both away.
Cait woke first. Panic seized her chest as she fought through a moment of disorientation. It didn’t dissolve completely even when she realized where she was. “Ewan?” she whispered anxiously.
“GO AWAY!” he husband bellowed toward the door, and then put his head firmly back down on the pillow, announcing his attention to remain asleep. The pounding didn’t stop, however. Instead, the door was flung open.
Cait squealed and dove beneath the blankets while Ewan, in the opposite response, jumped out of the bed. “What the HELL-?” he barked, grabbing angrily for his clothes.
The lieutenant from earlier in the day stood before him, skin absolutely white and eyes bulging. “I’m sorry, sir!” he apologized, gaze flickering toward Cait for the faintest instant, “But I had to rouse you…” Ewan’s eyes narrowed threateningly, and so the man continued quickly. “We need you immediately, sir!” he insisted, “The Castle’s under attack!”
Ewan was certain that he hadn’t heard correctly. He stared at the other man, half-ex
pecting a chortle and another pack of soldiers to jump out of hiding to chuckle about spoiling his “wedding” night-but the smile didn’t come.
“Who-who is it?” Cait found her voice first, poking her head out from between the blankets long enough to query the visitor.
“The English!” the man responded. “It’s Everleigh, sir-the same troops we chased to York. They have the castle surrounded.”
Slowly, some of what was being said sank in. Ewan sat down, hard when he realized the implication: Castle Cameron, filled with nearly every Laird and War Chief for a hundred mile radius, we encircled by English troops! How could such a thing have happened? He thought, frantically scrambling into his clothes and straining his ears for sounds of battle. In the Laird’s tower, at the very centre of the fortress, he was insulated from the brunt, but as soon as he threw open a window, he heard the awful sounds of panic and war.
The scene in the courtyard was near chaos. Not all of the villagers had made it up the hill before the gates were barred. The ones who had left their families behind were standing by the walls, wailing, pleading for mercy for the ones they had left behind, and blocking the paths of ragged, badly dwindled lines of troops who were trying to form ranks.
Ewan’s archers had already assembled on the walls. James, he thought proudly of his brother-but scanning the line, the other man was no where in sight.
Ewan didn’t have time to dwell on that problem. There were already too many other tasks that required his attention. “I’m coming!” he said quickly, then spared a second for Cait. “Get to the chapel,” he said. The church was nearly beside the tower. Heading there would keep her out of the crowd and, in the event they were overrun, it provided the best protection from attack. He didn’t think that even the English, or bloodthirsty Everleigh, would stoop to killing women and children in a church!
“I have to get Robert!” Cait said, eyes wild as, heedless of modesty, she dressed in front of the other man. “He’s with Lady Frasure!”
Ewan frowned. He didn’t like the thought of Cait taking off through the castle alone, but there was really nothing else to be done. “Hurry!” he admonished, then started toward the door. He was almost across the threshold when he stopped. “I love you Cait!” he said, his voice achingly earnest. “Everything is going to be okay.” It has to be, Ewan thought. He hadn’t regained happiness only to lose it again!
Ewan followed his lieutenant down the back staircase-the fastest route to the hall which had, apparently, been transformed into a makeshift military headquarters. “Where’s my brother,” he asked as they walked, “I didn’t see him outside.”
“No one knows,” his escort admitted sheepishly.
“What?” Ewan gawked, “But-! The archers-!”
“Laird MacRae and Laird MacCloud called out the guard,” he was informed. “Laird Frasure and Laird Abercrombie have seen to provisioning,” he continued, naming the two eldest clan leaders, “And Lairds Brodie and MacKenna are overseeing fortifications.”
Ewan counted his fellow chieftains and frowned harshly when he came up short. “Laird Drummond?” he inquired, “And Laird MacMillan?”
The other man’s face flushed angrily, “Laird Drummond was helping with closing the gate, sir,” he explained, “He was struck by an arrow. They’ve taken him to surgery.”
“And MacMillan?”
There was a beat of hesitation that prepared Ewan for what he was about to hear: “Gone, sir.” He responded. “Gone to the English, we think. There’s really no other way that they could know about the wedding, is there? Or the timing of the attack?”
Ewan felt his blood boil as he connected events in his own mind. If even a bit of it was true, MacMillan was damned lucky that he was out of Ewan’s reach! “Where’s Mary?” Ewan growled, wondering if his former bride-to-be had been in on the set-up. Despite his burst of fury, he rather doubted that was the case. Mary had seemed so lost and passive. Even if she had known the truth, he couldn’t conceive how she might have acted to further or to prevent events from unspooling precisely as they had.
“Gone, sir,” the other man replied. “No one’s seen her since the…er…” he let his voice trail off.
Ewan jerked his chin, grateful that the other man hadn’t seen a need to discuss the Laird’s cancelled nuptials.
They had finally arrived at the hall, and Ewan went to work, consulting with the other lairds briefly before going out to survey the castle defenses himself.
The first wave of the English attack-the surprise ambush-appeared to have ended. Listening to his brother-in-law, Ewan learned that the English had tried to push through the gate, but were thwarted. Since that time, they had fallen back to a position at the bottom of the hill. Ewan couldn’t see in the darkness, but he could imagine that they were moving canons in. All hell was likely to break loose at dawn.
After being show the preparations being made to beat back the attackers, Ewan went to consult with Laird Frasure. The news was better in the kitchens than on the batiments. Lots of extra food and provisions had been brought in to provide for their guests. Still, when he returned to the war council, the news was grim. The castle could withstand a siege for several weeks, but they weren’t nearly strong enough to launch an offensive and drive the English attackers away. They could last-but only until the food ran out unless help arrived.
“Will the MacRae’s come?” Ewan asked his sister’s husband bluntly. Lachlan was forced to shake his head in uncertainty.
“They’d come with an order-but there’s no one there to give it. Ross and I are both here!”
The predicament was the same for the other lairds. Somehow, a message had to be carried-but how? The only people who knew what was going on were either in the village, or the castle. No one on the outside, save Laird MacMillan, knew what a predicament the castle was in.
“We tried to send a messanger,” Laird MacKenna assured them, “But he was captured immediately. The lines are too close and tight for words to get through.
After he’d checked and rechecked the sentries a half-dozen times, consulted with the armorer that the weapons were ready to go, he finally admitted that there was nothing else that he could do but wait, and headed back to his room.
Cait wasn’t there.
Ewan felt a stab of panic, but then remembered that he’d sent her down to the chapel. He retraced his steps. To his relief, he found her just where she said she’d be, nursing Robert while chatting quietly with another woman of the Frasure clan.
“Cait, come to bed,” he said in a whisper, tugging her gently away from the others.
“To bed?” she asked, confused. He felt the eyes of the other women on him as well, but they couldn’t hear what he was saying. “It will be dawn before the fighting comes,” he told her, “I thought…”
“Of course!” Cait answered immediately, not making him speak aloud his fears. “Just let me find someone to take the baby.”
“Bring him.” Ewan said.
Cait arched a brow, but nodded. She caught Lady Frasure’s eye, nodded toward the door, and then slipped after her husband back into the castle proper.
It seemed impossible that they hadn’t noticed the fighting while they were asleep in Ewan’s room. Now, as they reclimbed the steps to his quarters, it was impossible not to look out the window. From the height, they could see down the hill. Rings of English campfires gleamed eerily in the night.
“What will happen?” Cait asked, shivering and drawing the baby closer. While she wa with the Frasures, she had head of the terrible fighting raging all through the highlands, but she had been lucky enough not to experience it herself.
“They’ll be moving in artillery now,” Ewan said quietly, “They’ll probably start early in the morning. Our archers and riflemen will try and take them out. We’re lucky on the hill. It will be hard for them to make a direct hit, but not impossible,” he responded, automatically launching into a technical discussion. Then he caught sight of Cait’s face and realized that
wasn’t what she had meant. “We’ll be safe for a while,” he assured her, “A few days at least. The castle walls are strong and we have plenty of provisions.”
“But what happens after that?” They had reached their chambers now. Ewan held open the door and let her inside. Then he followed her toward the bed, where he laid down without bothering to remove his clothes, silently acknowledging that he might need to rouse himself in an instant.
“Then…” Ewan took a deep breath, caught between the duelling desires of offering hope and remaining truthful. “Either help will come…or it won’t.” He finally said.
“Who has gone for help?” Cait asked him, eyes widening when Ewan didn’t automatically respond.
“Surely someone from the village ran to the outlands, rather than to the castle,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, and swallowing his own opinions about whether someone from the village would think to rouse the clansmen, and run on to Eilean Donan and the other allies and raise an alarm. Chances were remote at best.
“You didn’t send anyone?” Cait gasped.
Ewan shook his head slowly, “We can’t get through,” he admitted. “The castle is surrounded.” He couldn’t bear the flash of fear in Cait’s face. He gathered her tightly into her arms. “Don’t worry, lass,” he whispered, painfully conscious of how very little comfort he had to give, “Everything is going to work out allright.”
“Will it?” she asked, clearly sceptical.
Ewan planted a kiss on her brow, “It will,” he said forcefully. “I’ve finally got you back! I won’t let anything take you away from me now!”
If only he could make that true. Ewan had confidence that the fortress would withstand the next day of fighting, but after that? It wasn’t fair! His entire face blackened when he looked down at his wife and child and realized how badly he’d been cheated. Maybe he was never meant to spend a lifetime with them, but at least he could have had the past year?
A Year and a Day Page 29