* * *
“Mr. Barclay would you care for some coffee or tea?” Caitlin smiled prettily.
“Tea would be nice.” Lines creased his round forehead as he studied her. She certainly looked like the same person he’d worked with over the past week, but she didn’t act the same. The sourly, contemptuous, vixen had been replaced by a smiling, gracious, lady.
“Would you like sugar?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Here you are.” Caitlin handed him a china cup and matching saucer. “Please have a seat.” Her small hand indicated the chair next to her.
He nervously cast a glanced about, his small dark eyes searching for a chaperon.
“Lucy will be here soon. There was a matter that needed her attention.”
“Perhaps we should wait until she arrives.”
“Nonsense. Do I need to have fear of you, Mr. Barclay?”
“I’d never harm you.” He staunchly defended.
“Are you perhaps fearful that I may harm your person in some way?” Her green eyes glowed bright with the challenge.
“That’s preposterous.” He drew his shoulders up to his full height of five feet eight inches, sucking in his round stomach slightly with offense.
“Then, please, have a seat. I have a matter I wish to discuss with you.”
“Is everything to your liking?” He sat down, awkwardly balancing the cup and saucer. She had done nothing but complain since the project started. Bluntly barking orders at his men, and arguing with him as if she were in charge. And, since the master of the house hadn’t been around, he could do not but hold his seething temper in check. However, this morning she had descended the stairs with a smile upon her lips. Her mood was light and gay as she complimented on the work, letting him take control, even asking him for advice. Did she now have another complaint?
“Everything is coming along splendidly.” She smiled, hoping to stroke his ego. “But I wish to seek your opinion on a matter.”
“How may I be of service?” He set his tea on the table and gave her his undivided attention.
“’Tis about this mantle. I have a large project in mind and hope you can help.” She crossed the room, running her hand along the rough, wooden top.
“’Tis why I’m here, madam.”
“Now I have not talked with my husband yet. He has been so busy at the shop.” She paused and after receiving his nod of understanding continued. “So the plans are not definite, but since time is of the essence I thought you could start the process, and have a few quotes ready. If my husband does not agree then we will drop the whole idea.” Although she chafed at the idea of running to her husband she knew the statement pleased Mr. Barclay, who strongly disapproved of women taking the lead. Not to mention, the project was quite expensive.
“Tell me what is on your mind and I’ll see what I can do.”
Caitlin smiled, satisfied that she had finally accomplished the task of wrapping him around her finger.
* * *
Caitlin paced in front of the hearth in the downstairs parlor. She’d endured another meal alone and feared the evening was going to be spent in solitude as well. She would have completely gone out of her mind if it weren’t for the work on the house keeping her busy during the day.
The household was fiercely loyal to Dillon and therefore wary of her intrusion into their lives. The battles with Martha didn’t bolster the servant’s confidence in their new mistress. Lucy being a new hireling was loyal to Caitlin, but she’d been slipping out in the evenings to visit with her family. And Sarah had been too heartbroken over Brogan’s departure to venture out much. Caitlin felt like she’d not only lost her family but her best friend too.
Her heart ached with loneliness. She felt the bitter strains of longing and oppression crushing down upon her. Reaching their snarled claws around her heart and squeezing until she thought she’d crumble under the weight of depression. Oh! What was a girl to do? Heaving a sigh, she shook her head as if to clear away the muddle. By dint of will she forced the feelings to flee, squaring her shoulders in firm resolve to not allow another dark mood overcome her. However, it was easy to succumb to grief and depression when you were all alone.
“Good evening, my lady.”
“Dillon.” The name slid past her lips with an excited gasp. She’d never been so glad to see him.
“Am I disturbing you?” He’d watched her pace across the floor with a frown creasing her brow.
“Nay. You merely took me by surprise. You have not been around lately.”
“I have had a lot to do at the shop.” Even as he casually offered the excuse he knew it was not true. He’d needed time to collect himself. To find a way to control the burning desires that surged through him. If he failed to find a suitable way to contain this hunger he’d never be able to keep his promise of a name only marriage. His only other option was to change Caitlin’s mind.
“’Tis what I thought.” She sighed, running a hand down her green dress, focusing on the wrinkles and biting back a sharp comment, not wanting to offend the one person she could have a conversation with. “I am sorry about my attire. I figured I would be alone again tonight so I dressed more comfortably.”
“You look beautiful.” He noticed the black lace edging the sleeves and neckline was fraying, and the elbows showed signs of frequent use. But the dark green complimented her red hair, making her eyes even more vivid. “Besides, I too am dressed causally.”
Even when dressed simply in brown pants and a white shirt he still made an imposing figure. The width of his shoulders filled the small space of the doorway. He stood in his usual position with both hands behind his back, feet braced apart. Caitlin’s eyes eagerly took in his appearance but she said nothing, fearing words wouldn’t get by her constricted throat.
Dillon could have sworn he saw something pass in her eyes. But what? Tenderness. Serenity. Perhaps loneliness. That would be more her state of mind. Whatever it was, it caused him to falter a moment. Hope welled up. Could he perchance win her affections? Stepping forward he held out a package that was behind his back. “’Tis for you, my lady.” He definitely could read the surprise in her green orbs.
“What is this for?” She took the box.
“A peace offering.” He watched as she deftly unwrapped the present.
“Oh, Dillon.” She held the leather bound book in one hand while running the other over the engraved letters of the title, Lyrical Ballads. “’Tis beautiful.”
“’Tis the newest book of poetry by Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Woodsworth.”
“I love poetry,” she stated.
“’Tis my way of apologizing. I hope you can forgive me for the fight we had.”
“The fight was not the problem.” She met his eyes. “All married couples fight.” The kiss hung heavy between them.
“Married couples also kiss.” He met the challenge head on.
“Not ones in name only.” Her chin jutted out.
The barb hit its mark. “I do not know what came over me. I am truly sorry.”
Her eyes lowered back to the book. She knew the gift was expensive and he did seem sincere. She also realized her fault in the fight. He’d told her she needed to grow up and handle her problems like an adult. He was right. Her mother had always gotten more work out of the servants using a gentle hand and kind words. ‘Twas just her foul mood that made her act unreasonably. As for the kiss, she still had no idea what happened there. However, she would extract a little revenge before accepting his apology.
“I could not possibly accept this. ‘Twould be the same as accepting a bribe.”
His dark eyes clouded with confusion. “’Tis nothing like a bribe.” His voice was low. “I merely wanted to buy my wife a gift.”
“Really? Seems that you have already taken liberties and may expect more should I accept this.” She held up the book.
“I have already stated that I regret my mistake. The book is a small token of my apology and nothi
ng more.” With hands clasped behind his back he paced a few steps away. “I require nothing in return.”
“You require nothing more because you have already taken what you wanted.” With a swift motion she tossed the book onto the coffee table with a loud thud. Oh, it felt so good to spar with someone.
What was it about this woman that could completely obliterate his calm disposition? His jaw tensed slightly before he spoke. “Pray tell, what exactly have I taken? ‘Twas a simple kiss and nothing more.”
Caitlin felt a sharp jab at the statement. There’d been nothing simple about that kiss, at least not on her part. She’d had simple kisses by a few of the boys who’d courted her. But she’d never been kissed by a man before. The awkward, clumsy attempts of boys could never compare with Dillon. Anger pricked her heart. He’d kissed her senseless, leaving her feeling confused and humiliated. Now he stood there claiming it was simple as if it hadn’t meant anything to him.
“You have taken my freedom and gained yourself a wife. One who must obey your every command and bend to your will. A wife who has been confined with taking care of the duties of the household while you gallivant around town.”
His heartfelt laughter took her by surprise. “You, my dear, will never conform to anyone’s will, least of all my mine. And I seriously doubt that you have ever obeyed any command.” Crossing his arms in front of his chest he stared at her.
“Humph!” That stubborn chin came out once again.
“Dare I say that if the household is too heavy a burden to bear, I am sure Mr. Barclay will be more than happy to assume the responsibilities by himself.” Dillon shrugged his shoulders. “He disapproves of your involvement anyhow.”
“No doubt he will take forever and rob you blind by the time he’s done.” Caitlin turned toward the fire, stretching her hands out to the warmth. “I did not say it was a burden I couldn’t handle. ‘Tis just a burden, that’s all.”
“The same kind of burden that marriage is?”
“The household duties are not half as burdensome as marriage.” She heard the shuffling of his feet then felt the warmth of his body as he stood close behind her.
“What is so oppressive about marriage, Caitlin?” His whisper brushed her cheek. “Do you not live in a nice house, with a free hand to do as you please? Is your wardrobe so drab? Your belly empty? Do you want for anything?”
She closed her eyes, forcing her heartbeat to calm before answering. “’Tis more to life than possessions. There are things like love, loyalty, trust.”
“I am capable of giving you all those as well.” It took every ounce of his will power not to reach out and touch her. His breathing became irregular and his heart picked up speed. “If you would only accept them.”
Caitlin spun around in astonishment, her gown swishing out like a cloud before settling back down against her long legs. “I could never love someone I did not trust.”
“Have I given you any reason not to trust me?” His hoarse whisper raced along her nerves, setting her on edge.
“You, Dillon Cade, are my enemy.” Although she said the words, the conviction behind them was lacking.
“I would like to be your friend.”
Her green eyes bore into his. “We cannot be friends. We are already husband and wife.”
“That does not mean we cannot have friendship,” he challenged. “Good marriages start with friendship and companionship.”
“Ours did not start that way,” she reminded him. “I was forced into wedlock and I have no idea why you willingly went along with the plan.”
“To save you.” His mild voice pleaded for understanding. “’Twas the only way, Caitlin.”
His gentleness roused compassion in her. “You did not tell me the truth before the wedding.”
“As I have stated before that decision was up your parents. I had no control over it.”
She couldn’t hold that argument against him forever. Her own father had admitted that it was fully his idea to keep her in the dark about their departure back to Ireland. “Perhaps you had no control but the fact remains that you forced me into this position. The only thing I have to offer is respect.”
It was now Dillon’s turn to be taken by surprise. That was more than he’d anticipated. “Lots of solid marriages have been based on less than that.”
“Was your parents’ marriage built on respect or did they love each other?”
“I am not sure about my father but my mother was in love.” His mother had foolishly loved his father, to the extent of heart-breaking ignorance.
“My parents too married for love.” She cocked her head in thought. “Where does that leave us?” She poised the question. “We both grew up in families built on love. Now we are thrown together by the hand of political parties.”
“I’ve come to learn, Caitlin, that circumstances happen for a reason. ‘Tis best to make the most of it.” He stepped closer. “I accept the fact that you respect me. But I intend to build upon that.”
Her auburn brows arched upward. “What exactly do you intend to build?”
“A solid, loving marriage.”
Her mouth gapped open.
“The problem is we never had a courtship,” he stated. “I intend to woo you until you fall hopelessly in love with me.”
“Surely you jest.”
“Nay, madam. I intend to make you my wife in all possible ways, including winning your heart.”
“You will never win my heart.” She stated with assurance. “’Tis safe to guess that the only thing you really want is a partner to warm your bed.” She crossed her arms definitely. “And that I will never willingly give you.”
“We shall see.” His brown eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Truly you are a cad!”
His laughter filled the room. “Nay, madam. I am merely a man besotted by your beauty.”
She found it hard staying angry with him when he laughed, for his laughter seemed to pick up her spirits. Even so, she put on her best front. “’Tis plain to see where you have spent the last four days,” she chided. “The local tavern is the only thing that has besotted you.”
“Nay, my lady. I have not stepped foot in there.” His laughter sobered. “I do, however, have to admit that my reasons for staying away was not only work.” He looked her in the eyes. “I did not know what to say to you. I feared you’d never forgive me for my indiscretion.”
“Your presumption was correct.” She lifted her nose haughtily in the air. “I had no intention of forgiving you.” She crossed the room, picking up the book from the table. “What was your real purpose for this gift?” she questioned. “To ask forgiveness, or win my affections?”
“I must confess, a little of both.”
Caitlin paused a moment, processing his words. Why did the prospect of him seriously courting her cause a fluttering in her stomach? Surely she didn’t want the attentions of this traitor. She couldn’t let her guard down. However, life had been pretty lonely the past few days. With her family gone she had no one to turn to. No one except Dillon. Without him she was totally and utterly alone. Could she open her heart just a crack? Could she forgive him? Forget he was born in England? Could she put her convictions aside?
“I thank you for the book of poetry.” She finally managed to speak. “I accept it and your apology. However, I cannot encourage you to continue your pursuit. ‘Twould be a waste of your time. I will never change my mind.” Hesitantly looking at him she continued. “I appreciate your honesty so I feel it only appropriate to return it.”
“Thank you for accepting my apology, and my gift. It brings me great pleasure to please you, madam.” He gallantly bowed. “As for the other matter, I will not give up so easily.”
“Suit yourself,” she quipped. “’Tis your time that you’ll be wasting.”
“’Tis never a waste of time when it comes to matters of the heart.” His lips twisted into a grin. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Actually ‘
tis another matter I wish to discuss.” She’d almost forgotten the reason she’d waited up for him. “I have an idea for the fireplace.” She sat down in a chair placed in front of the crackling fire.
“I have already told you to do as you please.”
“But ‘tis expensive and not really necessary.”
He crossed the room taking a seat beside her. “Can Mr. Barclay accomplish the task?” He gently took her hand.
“Aye. I have already spoken with him.” She felt a warmth spreading from her hand, moving slowly up her arm, causing her heart to palpitate faster. “But I told him to hold off until I talked with you.” She needed to think and the tingling sensations were now spreading to her brain. Withdrawing her hand she stood and paced to the fireplace.
“I have already stated that I do not care about the cost. Do as you please. I will talk with Mr. Barclay tomorrow.”
Her green eyes brightened. “Oh, Dillon, thank you.” She turned to face him. “’Twill be beautiful.” Her excitement shined brighter than the fire burning in the hearth.
The Unwilling Bride Page 14