A Winter Moon

by S. J. Smith

  "Have they told ye who to?" he asked, sparing Caitrin Graeme a frustrated glance.

  "Nay," Caitrin replied, "now stop yer fidgetin', 'tis making me anxious."

  "Ye should be anxious," Duncan said. He began to pace back and forth across the room as he'd been a minute past when Caitrin had first delivered the news, doing his best to wear a hole in the thick carpet that covered the stretch of stone from Caitrin's bed to the hearth. Caitrin herself sat on the window seat, watching her friend's agitation growing.

  "Ye knew this day would come, Dun," she said, absently fixing her skirts. "'Tis a woman's lot in this life, and I'm near past marrying age."

  "I'd rather ye be a spinster than married off t' some man ye dinnae ken."

  "My family would never allow it," Caitrin replied. "They would sooner commit me t’ a convent than let me choose my husband. My sister's five years my junior and already she's two bairns with a third on th' way."

  "Why do they need ye then?" Duncan asked with an angry gesture to drive his question home. Caitrin sighed and stood and put a gentle hand on his strong arm, putting his pacing to an end, and pressing the other to his broad chest.

  "We're friends, aye?" she asked.

  Duncan frowned at her, confusion in his blue eyes. "Aye."

  "Then I need ye t' support me in this," Caitrin said, "no’ throwing a fit like a wee bairn."

  Duncan's frown deepened, an almost sulky look fixed on his face. "I dinnae like it."

  "It doesnae matter whether ye like it or not," Caitrin said. "'Tis the way it has t' be. I have no brothers, ye know this. I need ye to fill the roles they would have taken up."

  "Meaning?" Duncan asked.

  "Meaning I need ye t' do as I ask, and right now I need ye t' stop yer pacing before I lose my mind."

  Duncan huffed and shrugged off her touch, but to his credit he stopped his fidgeting, crossing to the bench and leaning forward to look out the narrow slit that acted as the only window into Caitrin's chamber. His broad shoulders were bunched in anger, and everything about his posture screamed frustration, but Caitrin had faith that he could come through for her. He always had. If only she could marry him instead.

  "When will ye know?" he asked quietly.

  "I dinnae know," Caitrin replied. All communications between her father and whatever family she was marrying into had been kept from her. For months Laird Graeme had been arranging everything behind Caitrin's back, and only now that the deal had been sealed had she been told. She should have suspected from the start. Her father had been commenting more and more on her single status, and reminding her that she needed a husband soon lest the prime of her life pass her by.

  "What if he's some old bastard?" Duncan asked.

  Caitrin sighed and let her eyes close for a second as she bit back a frustrated reply on her own. "Ye sound like ye're the one being married, not I."

  "I cannae help my worry," Duncan said with a scowl. He was sulking again. It was a shame it didn't dull his attractiveness, otherwise he may have been less inclined to pout. He was a fine looking man, the epitome of a warrior. Not an inch of him wasn't muscle, and over the course of their lifetimes Caitrin had seen almost all of those inches at one point or another. He kept his hair long, though tied back in a tail at the nape of his neck, and though he insisted that he shaved every morn, each time Caitrin saw him he had the beginnings of a beard on his jaw.

  "I know," Caitrin said, "but I need that bear-like strength of yers t' help me through this. Father's no’ told me the man's name yet, but he's bound t' do so sooner rather than later, and if he is less than desirable I just may need yer help t’ plan a brilliant escape."

  Duncan chuckled at that, a low sound that came from his chest. He leaned a forearm against the stone wall next to him, his other hand still on the hilt of his sword. He sighed a second later and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  "Ah, Cait," he said, "would that fate had dealt us different hands, aye?"

  "We must make the best of what we're given," Caitrin replied automatically, voicing what her mother had told her time and time again since she was a wee lass. "'Tis likely that Father will tell me tonight at supper. I assume ye'll be dining with us?"

  "If ye want me there," Duncan replied.

  "Just because Father has always had his suspicions about our relationship doesnae mean ye need t’ eat in yer room each time ye visit th' castle," Caitrin said. She tried to be stern, but she could feel a smile tugging at her lips. When Duncan spun to face her fully and grinned, she let go smiling back. A giggle bubbled out of her lips. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, unsure why she was laughing. She blamed it on Duncan. His anxiety had made hers all the worse, forcing her to dwell on things she would rather forget about. Such was her punishment for telling him. She knew he would react how he did. Duncan was a good man, but nothing if not predictable.

  "Ye best go before th' servants start t' gossip," Caitrin said. "Ye know how they can be. I'll see ye at supper."

  "Aye," Duncan sighed out. He took both of Caitrin's hands in his and pressed kisses to the knuckles of each, then brushed one across her cheek, the stubble on his jaw scratching her smooth skin. "I'll be by th' stables should ye need me," he said softly into her ear then departed, closing the door behind him with a quiet thump and the gentle clink of the lock.

  *****

  Dinner was a long and awkward affair. Caitrin hardly had the stomach for her meal, so strong was her anxiety. Her father sat silently at the head of the table, steadily eating, and had hardly spared her a glance since she came to the table. Duncan sat directly across from her, the set of his shoulders stiff and his eyes dark and wary. He looked between Caitrin and her father several times as the meal went on. When Caitrin thought she could no longer bear the silence, her father cleared his throat.

  “The preparations for your marriage have been finalized,” he said, “as I'm sure ye know.”

  “Aye,” Caitrin said, “though ye've yet t' tell me t' whom I shall be wed.”

  “In good time. Firstly, I need ye t' understand that I dinnae do this out of lack of love for ye, but because th' love I bear ye is greater than any.”

  “I know, Father,” Caitrin replied, trying to keep her impatience in check. If he was marrying her off to some old man to secure her future, she wanted to know so she could prepare herself for what would come next.

  “I know, also, that perhaps ye'd rather marry a man ye're more... familiar with,” Laird Graeme continued with a none too subtle glance at Duncan that made both him and Caitrin blush. “But this is for th' good of th' family. Upon my death- don't give me tha' look, lass, no man can live forever- ye'll be well provided for.”

  “Are ye going t' tell me who this man is?” Caitrin asked. “Or am I t' die from anticipation?”

  Laird Graeme sighed. “You are t' marry Kendrick Ross in one month's time,” he said. Caitrin felt the colour drain from her face.

  “He's a decade older than me, Father,” she said.

  “And not so old at that,” Laird Graeme said. “This is my will and ye will abide by it.”

  Caitrin ducked her head. “Aye, my laird,” she said softly.

  “Good.” Laird Graeme nodded, in his eyes the situation over and dealt with. And with that he turned his attention to Duncan. “Ye'll accompany her t' the Ross' castle,” he continued. “'Tis not far, but th' roads are fraught with danger, and I'll not have my child set upon by a band of brigands.”

  “Aye, my laird,” Duncan replied, far more respectfully than Caitrin had.

  Her father didn't recognize the tension in Duncan's shoulders but Caitrin did, and was glad she would have a friend to confide in when the dinner ended and she could return to her room in peace. Duncan would follow her. He always did. Caitrin had little interest in the rest of her food. She pushed it around on her plate until enough time had passed that she could excuse herself from the table. Duncan would come when he could.

  Caitrin had never met Kendric
k, nor did she know a thing about him save that he was at least ten years her senior. Caitrin was only shy of twenty-four herself, well past the age when she knew most women were married, and it made the age difference feel all the greater. She wondered why he was not already married. Perhaps he had been. Perhaps she had died. Caitrin would almost prefer that, in some ways. The idea of having to fill someone else's shoes wasn't an appealing one, but at least he would be experienced in marriage. Perhaps he would simply ignore her. If Duncan could remain then she would never be lonely, no matter how little attention Kendrick paid her.

  She left the door to her room unlatched, awaiting Duncan's arrival, and took her perch at the window seat. Dusk was growing, painting the world red and orange. She hardly had to wait at all before there was a sharp knock on her door. She didn't have to call out for him to enter. She had little shame around him. Even had she been changing, he would have been the more embarrassed one. She turned her head to look at him when she heard the door open. There was thunder on his face.

  “This is an insult t' ye,” he said roughly.

  “Duncan...” Caitrin sighed and pressed a hand to her face.

  “Nay,” Duncan snapped. “'Tis rude t' marry ye off t' a man so much older than ye. It's-”

  “Would ye rather marry me yerself?” Caitrin asked.

  “Aye, I would,” Duncan said. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and stalked over to her, glaring out the window at the rapidly darkening sky. “At least I know I would treat ye right, and we're far closer in age, and we're... we're friends, nay?”

  “O' course,” Caitrin said, “but I cannae go against Father's wishes.”

  “I thought ye were going t' formulate a clever plan t' escape should his choice not be suitable.”

  “And where would I go?” Caitrin asked. “T' a convent? 'Twould break Father's heart.”

  Duncan sighed heavily. “I just wish things were different,” he said.

  Caitrin reached out to take one of his large hands and hold it between hers, offering him a smile that she hoped was more comforting than it felt. “At least I'll have you with me,” she said.

  “Aye, ye will,” Duncan said. “No matter what happens, I'll never leave yer side.”

  “Do ye promise?” Caitrin asked.

  Duncan turned to face her, his eyes searching hers, and took both of her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “Cross my heart, Cait.”

  “I'll hold ye t’ tha',” Caitrin replied.

  Duncan laughed softly and kissed the top of her head, his jaw gently scratching her skin. “I'll fetch us some drinks, aye? Seems as good a night as any t' get drunk.”

  Caitrin held onto his hands until her arms were stretched as much as they could and she had to either let go or be dragged along with him. He left the door open a crack. Caitrin listened to his footsteps echo, and when they faded rose from her seat and went to stoke the fire.

  *****

  In the two weeks that followed Caitrin had her hands more than full with preparations for uprooting her entire life and moving from the castle she had grown up in. She had never been to Balnagown Castle. Would she ever know its nooks and crannies as well as she did those of Castle Graeme? She and Duncan had spent their childhoods exploring every inch of the castle, playing all manner of games. On fine summer days they still chased each other round and round, their games as innocent as they had always been, but something in the air around them changing as they matured. There would be no time for games now, not with the responsibilities of a wife being thrust upon her.

  Whilst her discomfort with the age difference between herself and Kendrick still lingered in the back of her mind, more pressing concerns took precedence. Was he handsome or ugly? Was he kind or malicious? Would he show her love and respect or would he beat her and threaten her into doing his will? Would he constantly be out, off whoring or fighting or doing whatever else it was men did when they weren't within their homes? So many questions, and no answers. Her father hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Kendrick either, though he and Kendrick's father were old friends. Their correspondence concerned more important things than what kind of man Laird Graeme was giving his daughter to.

  Duncan's responsibilities, however, changed little. Whilst Caitrin scurried around like a headless chicken trying to make sure she didn't leave anything important behind, he was off doing whatever it was he normally did when he and Caitrin weren't together. His task wouldn't begin until Caitrin and her escort left for the castle. Caitrin spent what time she wasn't worrying about her future husband or making sure everything was in order, simultaneously wishing the day was already upon her and wishing that it would never come.

  But come it did, and Caitrin tried to hide how much her nerves were making her hands tremble as she said goodbye to her father. He kissed her softly on both cheeks, his beard roughly scratching her skin. She tried to open her mouth but her body refused to listen. Instead, she gave her father a tight-lipped smile and turned away to accept Duncan's hand and his help to mount her horse, a light-coloured palfrey with a mild temper, a gift from her father when she reached her twentieth year. Daisy snuffled about Duncan's kilt for treats and snorted when she found nothing. Duncan chuckled and patted her neck, then moved to mount his own gelding. The rest of the men mounted up as well and with a final goodbye to the families that had gathered, the little caravan set off.

  Duncan rode slightly ahead of her and to the right, another man riding the same distance behind her, and two more on the other side. One rode at the head of the procession, and one drove the cart that carried all of Caitrin's worldly possessions. It was a small escort, but the journey to Balnagown Castle wasn't so long that Caitrin really feared them being attacked. Plus, all the men with her were hardened warriors. A band of lowly bandits wouldn't stand a chance against them.

  They travelled at a steady pace all day, stopping only twice, once to quickly eat at midday and once again when dusk began to fall to make camp for the night. Fresh game was rife in the woods and hills around them and Duncan and Finn easily caught two hares to compliment the rations they had brought with them. The sweet smell of cooking meat made Caitrin's mouth water. Duncan settled himself down next to her and carved off a decent hunk for her to sink her teeth into. The juices pooled in the corners of her mouth. Caitrin would have normally been a bit tidier in her eating, but she as out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by men doing exactly the same thing, and Duncan was the last person in the world who would embarrass her for her eating habits.

  “Are ye feelin' well, Cait?” Duncan asked as Caitrin sucked her fingers clean. She met his gaze, his eyes dark in the light of their cooking fire, and nodded. “Ye can sleep close t' the fire tonight, and I'll sleep at yer back. If... that's all right with ye.”

  “It is,” Caitrin replied. “Tis cold at night, and I would rather have you at my back than someone I dinnae know. Besides, we've slept together before.”

  “Tha' was then,” Duncan said. “This is now. And ye were ill besides. Someone needed t' keep ye warm. Ye were shaking so...”

  Caitrin laid a hand on his arm. When she had been a child she had caught a terrible illness, sweating and shaking, feverish and unresponsive. Her family had been certain she would die. Duncan was the only one who dared to stay with her and risk becoming sick himself simply so she wouldn't be alone.

  “Ye'll still be keeping me warm,” she said, “just as ye did then.”

  Duncan smiled and nodded and finished his meal. Caitrin wrapped herself up in her fur trimmed cloak and warmed herself by the small fire as the men around her set up their sleep rolls and determined watches for the night. Duncan laid out Caitrin's bedroll as close to the fire as he dared and placed his own next to it, making blankets of extra furs and cloaks. Caitrin stayed awake for a while longer, listening to the men talking and absorbing warmth from the fire and from Duncan at her shoulder, but when the sun completely set and the moon began to rise she settled in for the night, knowing that camp would break early a
nd they would have another long day of travelling ahead of them.

  She fell asleep quickly enough, but woke some time later when Duncan lay down behind her, stretching the length of his body against hers and casually draping a heavy arm over her waist. Caitrin wiggled back against him and was greeted with a sleepy grunt and a sigh as Duncan moved his hips back away from her rear. Caitrin followed.

  “Don' wiggle so,” Duncan said.

  Caitrin blushed sleepily when she caught his meaning, but didn't move. He was too warm for her to want to put any more space between them. She fell asleep again easily enough, and slept solidly through the night, comfortable with the fire warming her from the front and Duncan from the back.

  *****

  She was loathe to wake in the morning when the sun broke over the horizon and the birds began their sweet calling, but it was either that or spend the rest of her life in the middle of nowhere. Breakfast was leftover hare from the night before, cold but still delicious, before the group broke camp and they found the road again.

  Travel was boring. The men had little interest in talking to her, preferring instead to talk with each other. Duncan's silent companionship was almost enough. At least he was with her. She was thankful for that. He caught her looking and they shared a gentle smile. He threw a wink at her. Caitrin tried to ignore how sore riding was making her and soak in what she could of the beautiful countryside. The party was blessed that the weather was fair. A rainy day would have made the trip all the worse.

  It was coming on midday when the party leader, Colin, held up his fist to bring the party to a stop. Caitrin craned her neck and sat up straighter in the saddle to try and see what disturbance lay ahead of them. A small group of riders was approaching, only three men, wearing red plaid. Caitrin glanced to Duncan, but her friend looked relaxed, his hands light on the reins. Caitrin relaxed her shoulders. She didn't recognize the colors, but the men around her must have, for they appeared at ease. Caitrin focused her gaze on the lead rider, a tall man with unruly red curls and a slender frame.