The Unwilling Bride

by Candy-Ann Little

  The Unwilling Bride

  By: Candy Ann Little

  Printed by: Kingdom Kastle Publishing

  Copyright 2011 Candy Ann Little

  Kindle Edition

  Dedication

  First and foremost, I need to thank my God who has given me the ability and creativity to write this book. He has blessed my life so much and been with me throughout all my struggles. I only hope that I can bring Him honor and glory through my writing.

  Secondly, I need to thank my husband and kids for supporting me, praying for me, and giving me the time I need to write.

  Next, I’d like to thank family and friends who have supported and encouraged me for years. These are the people who indulge me when I’m talking about made up characters like they are real people, and haven’t had me committed yet!

  In addition, several special people have helped me achieve my dream. My wonderful and talented neighbor, Shatzie Lee, designed the beautiful book cover and formatted the entire novel. I also had several people who helped edit, Larry Webb, Serena Neaubacher, Vicky Schwartz, and other members of my writing group. Thank you all!

  Chapter 1

  Norfolk, Virginia

  September 18, 1798

  The clip clopping of horses’ hooves alerted Caitlin to someone coming up the drive. She dropped the leather bag over the balcony. It hit the ground with a dull thud. Hiking up her skirt to a length far too improper, she held it over one arm and straddled the railing. After both feet were firmly planted on the other side of the banister, she extended her arms trying to grasp the branch of the oak tree that tauntingly stretched before her.

  Not quite able to reach the branch, she decided to make a jump for it. Mustering all of her determination she leapt into the air, grabbing hold of the large bough with both arms. She dangled precariously, trying to swing her feet up to the branch, however the long skirt wrapped around her ankles making the task difficult. The rough bark cut through her thin overcoat, scratching the soft skin on her arms and making the process of holding on even harder. Looking down and realizing the height from which she dangled gave her the resolve to grip even tighter, no matter how much it hurt.

  Finally swinging a leg up high enough to reach the branch, she twisted her small torso around until she sat perched upon the limb like a bird. Cautiously standing up, she lifted her skirt once again. “This foolish thing is in my way.” She tucked the front hem into the sash around her waist. “There, that should hold it.” She needed both hands free to descend the tree. Tentatively placing a foot on the limb below, she carefully progressed through the colored leaves on her path to freedom.

  She’d just passed the middle of the tree when her slipper skidded, making her lose balance and topple. A scream pierced the air as she fell. The branches reached out, grabbing at her clothes and entangling her hair, but did nothing to stop her plunge downward. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prepared for the impact of the hard ground, but instead felt the softness of a body.

  Someone grabbed her around the waist tumbling with her and easing the collision. Caitlin lay on the ground, breathless and unable to move. Her heart raced wildly while her entire body throbbed. I can’t be dead, she thought. I hurt too much. Opening her eyes she found her older brother frowning at her. His short brown hair stood up in spikes, and grass clung to the side of his face.

  “Brogan.” She squealed with relief. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” He scolded and stood up.

  “I…was…umm…climbing a tree.” Her legs still felt wobbly, she didn’t dare try to get up.

  “You could have been killed.”

  “I’ve watched you climb that tree lots of times.” She didn’t like him taking that parental tone.

  “I do not have skirts and slippery shoes.”

  “I almost made it.”

  “Almost! You could have been seriously hurt, or even killed. Honestly, Caitlin do you have any sense in that head of yours?”

  “I have all the sense I need.” She rose from the ground, pulling her skirt down. “And do not lecture me.”

  “Then perhaps you will listen to Father.”

  “Brogan, no!” She pulled at his arm. “You cannot tell him or Mama.”

  “Then tell me what you were doing.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, staring.

  Caitlin had no choice but to throw herself on his mercy, “Running away.” She plucked some leaves out of her hair.

  “Trying to throw a rub in the way?”

  “So what if I’m spoiling everyone’s plans. No one cares about spoiling my life.” She pouted. “And what are you doing over here anyway?”

  “Keeping an eye on you. I knew you would try something foolish.”

  “’Tis no more foolish than getting married.”

  “Caitlin, marriage is not that unfavorable. Why must you be so dramatic?”

  “I’m dramatic?” She glared at him. “’Tis easy for you to say, you are still unattached. How would you feel if Mama and Papa made you get married?”

  “I can assure you I would not be pulling dangerous stunts.”

  “’Twas my last resort.” Her quivering lip informed Brogan of the forthcoming tears.

  “Now, Caitlin, do not be upset.”

  “Will you help me?” She pleaded. “I can hide in the rattler and you can make an excuse to leave. Then you can drop me off outside of town.” Her heart felt light once again as a new plan dawned. “If I do not get away now I will never be free again.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Anywhere away from here.”

  “How do you plan on supporting yourself?”

  “I will find a job,” she said irritably. “Why does everyone insist that I cannot care for myself?”

  “Because you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “And pulling a dangerous stunt without thinking about the consequences is proof of your immaturity.”

  “I’m immature! Why you scatter-witted nincompoop. I knew the risks and accepted them in order to gain my freedom. Just like Dwayne did.”

  “Our older brother willingly gave his life for the fight of Ireland. I have risked my own life several times in the pursuit of freedom, but you cannot pull dangerous stunts, just to get your own way. ‘Tis not the same thing.” He sighed, “You are too head strong for your own good. Take my advice and for once in your life just go along with the plans.”

  “Would you advise Ireland to stop fighting and go along with England?”

  “Nay. Only you, my dear sister.”

  “Why do I get such counsel?”

  “’Twill save all involved a lot of headaches.” He plucked a twig from her tangled curls. “Now, go get your bags and I’ll distract Mother and Father so you can sneak back into the house.”

  “And if I refuse?” She challenged, not ready to give up yet.

  “Please, Caitlin, trust me on this.”

  “Why?” She crossed her arms. “Everyone keeps talking about trust, but no one will explain a thing.”

  “You will be apprised of all the factors in due time.”

  “You know more than you’re telling me.” She crossed her arms.

  “I must abide by our parent’s wishes, even if I don’t agree with them.”

  “Will you promise to tell me what you can?”

  “I’m sorry, Cate. It has to come from Father. Now, be quick and get in the house. Dillon is here for dinner and you need to dress.”

  “Great!” Her last ditch effort for freedom had failed. Why can’t anything work out for me? She stomped over to get her bags.

  * * *

  “Would you care for a drink?” Alin held up a crystal decanter.

  “No, thank you, sir. I’m
not a drinking man.”

  “Neither am I.” He set the decanter on the table. “I’m glad to see my future son-in-law does not indulge in the spirits.”

  “Not drinking, is that not a mite unusual for the Irish?”

  “Aye, that it is, my lad.” Alin chuckled. “We’re known for our drinking, especially our preference for ale. Nonetheless, I have witnessed the destruction that liquor can do, and vowed to never allow a substance to control my life. I also believe ‘tis hard to do God’s work when you are drunk.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree, sir.” Dillon fidgeted with his cravat.

  “You seem a bit nervous, my boy.”

  “Your daughter is quite becoming and I want to make a good impression.”

  “Aye. Caitlin is beautiful. However, her temper surpasses her beauty. She is headstrong, independent, and at times a bit immature. I fear being the youngest and the only daughter has allowed us to spoil her.”

  “Children are a gift, my lord. They are put on earth to be spoiled. As for her maturity, she is yet young. It will develop with age.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Besides, in marriage you have to take the good with the bad.” Dillon paced a few steps with his arms locked behind his back.

  “’Tis true. I merely want you to be informed.” Alin sipped his water.

  “Good evening.” Kathleen seemed to materialize from nowhere.

  “Darling, I didn’t hear you.” Usually his ears were attuned to the clipping of her heels. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

  “‘Tis nice to see you again, Mrs. Gallagher, and may I say you look lovely this evening.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cade.” She curtsied as he kissed the back of her hand. A large feather from her blue hat brushed his chin.

  “Since I’m soon to be your son-in-law I think it appropriate that you use my Christian name.”

  “Very well, Dillon. I give you leave to use mine as well.” She looked at Alin. “What were you saying about Caitlin?”

  “We were talking about the wedding.”

  “I fear this ceremony is going to be anything but a happy occasion.” Kathleen’s voice cracked. Her heart broke for Caitlin. “She’s been through so much turmoil already. Forcing her into matrimony is a predicament I do not want to exert.”

  “I know ‘tis hard, dear. However, it’s the only way to keep her safe.” Alin slid his arm around her thick waist.

  “I promise to take exceptional care of her,” Dillon offered.

  “I’m sure you will make a fine husband that does not worry me.” Her green eyes turned to Alin, taking in the handsome squared features. His short-cropped, brown hair had been replaced by gray. His face wrinkled with age. Yet, he stirred her desire every time she gazed upon him. She wanted that same love, devotion, and passion in her daughter’s marriage, but feared Caitlin might never have that kind of happiness being coerced this way. “I merely wished more joy for her.” She dabbed at the tears with her gloved hand.

  “Being bound to anyone would never make our daughter happy,” Alin stated. “She seems to have an aversion to marriage altogether. This way, at least, we know she will have a stable life with a good man.”

  “Caitlin does not want this marriage?” Dillon inquired as he handed her a handkerchief. “I do not want to force her hand in this matter.” He knew her parents were desperate but he refused to goad any maiden into a life long commitment.

  “You are not forcing it. I am,” Alin corrected. “If you do not wish to be a party to this, I’ll understand. But be assured that if you do not marry Caitlin, I will find someone else.”

  “I do not wish to start my life with an unwilling wife.”

  “I understand your concern, Dillon.” Kathleen softly assured him. “Caitlin may be an unwilling bride at first, however, after the vows are spoken she’ll come around.” She didn’t want him losing interest. She liked this young man. Not only was he successful and good looking, but he also possessed a gentle disposition. All the qualities she desired in a husband for her daughter. The one and only concern being that Caitlin would trample him. She needed a strong hand at times to keep her in line.

  “I know what is best for my daughter and she will comply with my wishes.” Alin said, firmly.

  “Good evening.” Brogan entered the room. “Dillon, nice to see you.”

  “Likewise.” They shook hands.

  “Father, are you sure this is the best course of action?” He wanted to venture the subject on his sister’s behalf.

  “I see no other way.” Alin threw up his hands. “We are to be deported back to Ireland. Under Dillon’s name she can stay and start a new life. She will be much safer here.”

  “That may not be true,” Dillon said. “Under the same acts that are deporting you, I’m not allowed to print anything against President Adams or the Federalist Party. To show support for any Anti-Federalist group would be breaking the law, and I could be thrown in jail. Benjamin Bache, the editor of The Aurora, in Philadelphia had been arrested before he died.”

  “Was he not the grandson of Benjamin Franklin?” Kathleen inquired.

  “Aye. And he was arrested and accused of treason simply for printing an article that spoke against President Adams.”

  The light tapping of heels preceded Caitlin’s arrival and halted any further conversation of political matters. She was a vision beyond loveliness. The turquoise crepe gown, floated to the ground, extending into a small train. A yellow sash tied around the high waistline made her look even taller and more slender. The short sleeves were adorned with yellow flounce, and the same lace ran along the low curve of the neckline. Her dark red tresses were swept up in an artful chignon of ringlet curls, with a blue-green turban wrapped around her head and knotted on one side. Three yellow plumes protruded from the knot adding a touch of elegance.

  Caitlin smiled wistfully, receiving the desired affect she’d intended.

  Dillon hesitantly stepped forward to take his bow, “Pleased to see you again, Miss Gallagher.” He barely got the words out as his throat constricted.

  She curtsied, bestowing upon him the best smile she could manage, every muscle ached with the movement. “I do hope you will forgive me for being late, but I wanted to take extra care in my toiletry tonight.”

  “You are worth the wait.”

  “How gallant of you, Mr. Cade.” She noted his well-built stature. He wasn’t exceptionally tall, but he held himself straight like a soldier. The form-fitting black overcoat emphasized broad shoulders, while black britches accentuated his lean narrow hips. The ruffles of a white shirt ended under a brown waistcoat embroidered with black paisley stitching, and white stockings completed the ensemble. She guessed the shirt and stockings were made of silk, for this man was the portrait of high society. English society, no less.

  “I am sure it would be proper for us to be on a first name basis,” Dillon suggested.

  “‘Twould seem so with our wedding mere weeks away.” She tried to disguise the scorn in her tone.

  “We shall discuss that subject later,” Alin interrupted. “Would you like something to drink, my dear?

  “Water, please.” A small frown furrowed in Caitlin’s brow.

  Alin poured the liquid into a glass. Kathleen slipped closer. “Is there some reason you cut her off?”

  “I don’t want her saying anything to frighten him off. Dillon seems apprehensive enough. I’ve hand-picked this young man, finding in him all the qualities I desire for a good marriage. I’m of the mind that an honest man would make an excellent husband. Although Caitlin seems against the idea at the moment, she will come to love Dillon as he loves her. Of that I’m confident.”

  “Why don’t we adjourn to the dining room?” Kathleen suggested. “Dinner is waiting and surely growing cold.”

  “What were you talking about before I entered the room?” Caitlin asked as she laid her hand on top of the arm Dillon offered, and followed her parents out of the parlor.

 
“’Twas only shop talk, nothing for you to worry your pretty head over,” Alin said over his shoulder.

  “If I am to marry an editor of a newspaper, I should have a comprehension of his business.” She smiled into Dillon’s dark brown eyes.

  She pressed the subject, hoping to gain an understanding of why her parents were insistent upon her marrying this man. Something was amiss and she wanted answers.

  “I do not mind answering your questions.”He’d answer anything when she smiled like that. “However, I do not see how the newspaper business could hold your attention for long, ‘tis not very glamorous or exciting.”

  “I do not need glamour or excitement. I believe that a healthy mind leads to a happy life. And what better way to expand the mind than to learn about something new?” Caitlin sat down in the chair Dillon pulled out for her.

  “How astute of you.” He took his own seat and explained the differences between the Federalists and the Anti-Federalist Party, as they dined on the first course.