A Year and a Day (14 page)

Cait looked up at him. Her seafoam green eyes were cloudy with shame. He kissed each lid, and then used his thumb to brush away the drying semen on her cheek. He felt conflicted. She was so gorgeously erotic: swollen lips, tussled hair, coated in his lovng, but her look was also a painful reminder of what he’d done. He didn’t know which emotion was stronger: Lust or guilt- but the latter finally won out.

“I’m sorry!” he blurted, causing her to gasp.

“What?”
 

“I never should have asked you to do that- I shouldn’t have done that to you Cait. I- I’m sorry,” he finished in a rush, uncertain of how to proceed.

“It’s okay,” Cait said quickly, “I rather…that is to say, it wasn’t…It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. I only want to please you.”

“You
DO
, Cait!” Ewan assured her. “You do! But it wasn’t fair of me to force you to do…’that’. It isn’t part of our bargain.”

Cait’s eyes flashed, “Our bargain?” she said, and then she was still for a moment. After the silence had stretched out for a while, she added: “What other terms does our bargain include?”

Ewan stared at her for a long moment before he was able to get his jaw to work. She looked so serious- fairly
desperate
for an answer, and he had none to give.

“I’ve never been married before, Cait,” Ewan finally muttered.

Cait was not satisfied with the answer, “Aye, and neither have I, Ewan…but I need to know what you want from me- apart from a baby, I mean,” she said.

“There’s that, of course,” he responded slowly.

“Aye- and to warm your bed?”

The words were spoken so baldly that Ewan felt a twinge of embarrassment. He studied her face, wondering how he should answer. Of course they had to sleep together for the baby- but he didn’t trust himself to live within the boundaries of simple, functional mating. He was far too tempted by everything that Cait had to offer. “Aye,” he finally said, and then carefully watched Cait’s face.

“To do…to do everything?” she fairly whispered.

Ewan felt another wash of guilt. She
had
to be thinking of the perversion that he’d just forced on her, “No- only what you’re comfortable with,” he assured her. “I want you…” his voice trailed off as he tried to quantify
how
he wanted Cait- but he realized very quickly that this would be impossible. He wanted
everything
from her. His appetite for her body was already threatening to become voracious.

“You want me…?” Cait nudged, wanting to hear the non-existent rest.

Ewan shrugged, “I want you to be satisfied with our arrangement,” he finally said,  deciding that being candid was in both of their best interest. “I think that…if we enjoy being lovers…then we should enjoy being lovers and not feel guilty about it- although, I don’t want to push you further than you are willing to go…and I think that you should avail yourself more of the privilege of being my wife.”

“But what does that
mean
?” Cait sighed, her voice heavily tinted with frustration. She had already availed herself quite thoroughly of Ewan’s body…was there more? Did she dare to pretend that she was a
real
Mrs. Cameron?

Ewan wished that there was some way to soothe it, but all that he could do was shake his head. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised.

Cait allowed herself to curl into his arms- even though her mind was screeching in protest. She knew that she was missing her chance to have everything spelled out in black and white, to get
the rules
of their relationship. She needed them desperately! As long as the
re
were boundaries, she trusted herself not to cross the line and let him know how desperately she cared. As it was, every time he took her into his arms, every kiss threatened to betray her.

For Ewan, however, the conversation was apparently over. He was already dragging Cait back into his arms and twining her tightly against his chest. For a moment, she thought that he would take her again, but his touches were tender, rather than passionate, as he stroked her cheek and back. “It’s still raining,” he murmured.

“Mmmmmm,” Cait murmured, waiting for him to explain himself.

“We’ll be trapped inside all day.”

She smiled, in spite of herself, “That sounds…promising…” she said lightly.
And likely edu
cati
onal too
, she thought, if the past few days had been anything to judge by. She decided not to think beyond the next few hours. Perhaps that was the best way to take her marriage to Ewan? To live within the moment and not to worry about the rest?
 

“Aye- lass! You’re wearing me out!” Ewan said when she reached for his waist. He kissed her despite the protest, a touch that began softly, but swiftly increased in urgency until they were both panting and aroused again. “I-!” Ewan began to growl against her neck, but stopped when there was a pounding at the door. He frowned. No servant would knock so boldly. James wouldn’t likely bother to knock. His father knew better than to call so early in the morning, which only left…

“I’m coming in!” Ewan cringed as his sister Muira’s voice bellowed through the door, “I’m coming in- don’t think I won’t! I’m
a
married woman, and I’ve seen you both naked before!”

Ewan didn’t doubt for a moment that she wasn’t joking. He bolted out of the bed and scooped up his
clothes, fastening the belt at
his waist and tossing Cait her dress before scooping up his shirt. He was still only half-clad, and Cait was wearing her shift. Muira seemed not to mind.

“Well, as it appears that you won’t be gracing us with your presence, I reckon I had to come to you!” Lady MacRae said, sweeping into the room with a breakfast tray, plopping it down onto a table, and then sinking into a chair and stealing a piece of their toast. “So very kind of you to let
me
know about the wedding,” she declared in a snit. “I
suppose
congratulations are in order.”

“Muira!” Ewan said in an appeasing tone. Tucking
in
his shirt, he walked to where his sister was sitting. “You can’t just barge in here and-“

“I
did
,” she said sweetly and offered him an apple. Sighing in annoyance, Ewan went ahead and took it. She smiled in satisfaction and then turned toward her friend, who was struggling into her corset, “Now, where was I?”

“Leaving?” Ewan said hopefully.

“Leaving!” Muira nodded, “That’s right, I was about to talk about people ‘leaving’ their sisters out of the loop when they off and get married.”

Ewan was about to point out that Muira had seen him since the wedding and knew perfectly well that it had occurred, but she seemed to be warming to her topic. “Just because you’re doing things the old way doesn’t mean that you can’t do them properly! I had hoped that
someone
would get to wear my dress…”

“Maybe Maisie can wear it when she elopes with a
MacLeod
,” Ewan said, in reference to his eldest niece.

Muira glared and crossed herself before continuing. “If you were hoping to go unnoticed, you’ve only made it worse- the entire
castle
is buzzing about it- and apparently, you made quite a splash at the village too. Everyone’s dying to get a look at you
!
Lady Cameron
has declared tonight a feast night in your honor.”

“But-!” Cait sputtered helplessly. She automatically opened her mouth to say again that she wasn’t Ewan’s
real
wife, but she remembered what he’d said earlier, and what she’d decided to do, and remained silent-
one day at a time.

“We don’t
want
a feast!” Ewan growled, “We don’t want any sort of to-do! Don’t the people around here have anything to do than worry about who I’ve gone and married?” he spat, not noticing the way that his phrasing affected Cait.

Muira scowled blackly, “Why yes- they
could
continue to dwell on your two cousins who are dead and gone. They
could
worry about the maurauders on the loose and wonder when their sons and
fathers and
husbands are going to be called to war. They
could
dwell on why
my husband
hasn’t come back yet,” Muira said, her voice cracking a little, “Forgive us for wanting a cheerful distraction.”

The speech had taken a lot out of the pregnant woman. Some of the angry flush was draining from her cheeks, and the skin beneath it was ashen.

“Muira!” Ewan said apologetically, rushing to her side.

Muira waved him off and stood unsteadily. He reached for her, but she waved him off. “I’m going back to my room,” she said quietly, “You two lovebirds obviously don’t want company…but please…”

“We’ll be there,” Cait said quietly, without consulting her husband. Ewan turned and stared at her, but his eyes were more surprised than angry. She went to his side, still straightening her skirts. “It’s really only natural that they’re curious,” she explained, deciding that Muira was right about the castle’s need for a distraction, and convincing herself that it would be better to have the whole ordeal over at once, rather than suffering through introductions as Ewan’s wife over and over again.

Muira looked somewhat appeased by the concession. “Good. I’ll let Lady Cameron know,” she said quietly. She paused at the doorway. “I imagine that Uncle will want to speak with you before the feast, Ewan,” she said softly.

“What?” her brother frowned.

“I expect there’s something that he’ll need to announce- and, of course, he’ll need your input first.” She watched his face just long enough to see realization sink in, and then she turned to Cait. “What are you going to wear tonight?” Cait frowned, facing the same dilemma as she had the day before. Of course, none of her new fabric has been sewn into dresses yet, and she still had nothing suitable. Muira must have sensed her discomfort because she took her friend’s hand and squeezed it gently, “I have a pretty green velvet you could borrow. I was going to try to take it out, but there’s really no sense…” she patted her bulging tummy. “Come by later and we’ll see.”

Muira waddled out the door, leaving the newlyweds alone. Cait turned back toward Ewan, and was startled when she saw his face. It reflected a mixture of emotions: concern and pride- but also shock. Her eyes narrowed anxiously. Was the Cameron withdrawing his support for the wedding? He hadn’t seemed to mind three days before.  “What is it, Ewan?” she said breathlessly, “What does the
Laird
want to speak to you about?”

“I can’t say,” Ewan responded, implying that he didn’t know although the truth was that he didn’t dare to speak the thought aloud. He had been understandably “distracted” since the raid, and he hadn’t had time to sit down and consider the ramifi
ca
t
ions of his cousins’ death
s
. Donaid had been the tanist, the heir to the
Laird
ship of Clan Cameron. By rights it would now belong to him.

Ewan was silent as all this sank in. It was enough to send him reeling. Ewan had never expected to achieve the position of
Laird
. He’d never truly
considered
it. His status as war chieftain had been eminently suited to his talents and desire. It was a position of authority without any ultimate responsibility. He could run wild with his army, linger long in the beds of the lasses, always under the wat
chful eye and command of their
Laird
. If, however, that job fell to him…

“You can’t say, or you won’t?” Cait pressed gently. Her voice was imbued with the same tone of timid interest that she had used in the long years when they were merely friends. It was the same way she spoke when questioning a book she’d seen on his shelf, or questioning a bit of gossip.

Unfortunately, Ewan was in no mood to indulge in conversation. “Both,” he snapped back, and then paced to the window in a fit of agitation as he tried to work out what he was going to say.