A Year and a Day (20 page)

“Leave them,” Ewan said, assuming his favorite position: standing behind her with his arms about her waist.

She shook her head in protest, “I can’t! They’ll spoil if I do!” but Ewan’s touch was insistent, beginning with his lips skimming up the side of her throat while his fingers stroked her belly.

“I have more important work for you to do.”

“Oh?”
 

“Making our baby,” he whispered into her ear.

He was gratified by the shiver that ran through Cait’s body. He felt the vibrations with his fingertips, and tightened his embrace.

Cait melted against him. The mere suggestion of carrying his child was enough to send her weak in the knees. She’d never let herself imagine the possibility before, never
dreamed
that she’d be worthy. But now it was coming true. He skin tingled in anticipation of the delicious, addictive way that Ewan would go about making their baby a reality.

“Come to bed, Beauty,” he whispered, coaxing her gently toward the stairs. Cait allowed herself to be led, moving intentionally slowly so that he kept a steady pressure on her back. Once inside their room she let him close the door. She walked to the side of the bed, to a pool of moonlight splashing in through the window and took off her clothes.

She loved the ravenous way that he took in her form, making her feel like a fabulous pagan goddess rather than merely plain, sturdy, dependable Cait. It was oddly empowering: exposing her body bit by bit, stoking the plain, unabashed lust that she saw in her husband’s eyes.

Feeling brave, she toyed with him for a moment, pretending to struggle with the hooks on the back of her skirt. As she’d suspected, he instantly lunged forward, “Let me!” he offered, abashed when she shook her head. “Patience,” she whispered, and then took her sweet time easing open the fastenings and inching the skirt down over her hips and onto the floor.

Ewan was hard before she even reached for the straps of her chemise. He knew that it was obvious from the way that
his clothes
were all askew, but it didn’t matter. Surely Cait
knew
just from the look on his face how badly he wanted her. Even when he
wasn’t
inside of her, it seemed like all he could think about these days: how long he had to wait before he could sink back into her body again.

He didn’t dare to imagine that Cait felt the same way. Still, she had to find
some
appeal in what he was doing. He paused to frown- either that, or she was a very accomplished actress.

“Ewan?” Cait’s concerned whisper and instant frown laid his fears to rest. Cait was entirely too sweet and artless to participate in such a fraud. What did she stand to gain from it, after all? She hadn’t enticed him into her bed on the promise of money or a share of power. She had merely answered his request, giving herself to him completely and without any demands in return.

“I…”
love you
. The words were nearly out of Ewan’s mouth before he bit his tongue and the shock of what he had almost spoken rocked him to his very core. He inhaled sharply, still stunned by the near-declaration. “I love you”? Did he
really?

Cait was frowning again. Ewan reached forward to smooth away the downturned line of her lips, even as he continued to marvel in silence. Did he even know what love was? He wasn’t sure. He loved his family, of course, but he’d never felt for any woman the feelings that poets wrote about. He’d never met another person who made him feel complete- until he met Cait, he realized.

“You?” Cait asked, her ivory brow still wrinkled in concern. Ewan kissed it smooth again  and then bent toward her lips.

“I’m not very sleepy,” he spoke teasingly, hopefully covering for his near misstep. If he
did
love Cait, then he wasn’t ready to tell her yet. He needed time to examine his feelings, to decide what it would mean to give himself to someone else so completely.

Luckily, Cait hadn’t picked up on his pensiveness. She was focusing on his body. One of her slipped under his shirt. “I didn’t think that you were,” she whispered. “There was something about making a baby…”

“Yes, the baby…
We’ve been getting a lot of practice in…”

“We have,” Cait nodded, looking as though this fact did not displease her one jot. Her fingernails raked through the short hairs on his chest.

“Perhaps it’s time we took matters more seriously?”
 

“You weren’t serious before?” Cait asked, arching a brow. Of course, they both knew that she migh
t very well be pregnant already.

“I was serious,” Ewan admitted, “But now…”
But now I love you!
It frightened him how close the words were to the surface. For his own protection, he sealed his mouth against hers and left the rest unsaid. He would show her with his body what he meant- how he longed to worship her, to please her in every way imaginable, and then- when their bodies were both sated, to plant a seed in her womb that would grow to be a part of them both. He wanted it so badly! His body was shaking with unspoken desires. He had always known Cait would be a perfect mother. He hadn’t realized before how very important it was that she be the mother of
his
child- that she be
his wife.

After it was over, Ewan
shifted onto his side so that he wouldn’t crush his wife beneath his weight, but kept their bodies flush together.

They slept that way, limbs tangled together, basking in each other’s warmth. Cait fell asleep immediately, but Ewan took longer. For what felt like hours, he laid awake, considering the thought that had plagued him before. Did he really love the woman he’d taken to wife?

His mind could think of a million reasons that the answer
should be
“no”. For one thing- least important on Ewan’s list- she wasn’t precisely suitable. He’d never had a chance to speak with the
Laird
before leaving. The old man was obviously still too wrapped up in the grief of losing his sons to begin discussing who would become the tanist next, but Ewan knew that it
had
to be him. He thought through his earlier musings again. James was an option, of course. They were the same degree of relation from the original
Laird
- but James was too young, and too s
ca
t
tered to inspire loyalty in the rest of the clan. Older and hopefully wiser, Ewan was the blooded, respected war chieftain, and had been for many years. The fact that his sister was married to the neighboring
Laird
- admittedly James held that distinction too- only enhanced his claim.

Ewan was uncomfortable thinking of his merits relative to his brother, but knew that it had to be done. Happily, he and James were too close to turn on one another. He had faith that James’s careless, nearly dissolute nature would fade in time. After all, weren’t those two adjectives a descriptio
n of himself a few years before?
Before Cait
…his mind supplied automatically, bringing Ewan back to his original train of thought.

He would be the next
Laird
Cameron, which meant that
Lady
Cameron would be his wife. As dearly as he was coming to adore Cait, she was presumably no one’s idea of a lady. Within the clan itself she had been marginalized- despite her mother’s parentage- because of her half-English birth. As tensions continued to grow with their southern neighbors he didn’t anticipate that drawback would fade.

Ewan discovered, to his chagrin, that he didn’t care- which brought him to the second logical rea
son that loving Cait was a bad i
dea: loving someone would make him sloppy. It would rearrange his priorities at a time when he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Ewan was afraid of being in love. He was old enough to remember his father after his mother had died. Both his young parents had been so happy and full of life. After losing his spouse, Ewan’s father had been only a shell of the man he once was. The sad, haunted
look in his
eyes had faded slightly over the years- but Ewan suspected it was merely because he hoped to soon be joining his mate. Ewan didn’t want to care about someone that much- so deeply that he couldn’t imagine the future without her in it- that made him suspect that he was worrying about the problem a little too late. Just the thought of something happening to Cait was enough to make his heart clench in terror. She was his now. He knew, despite his blasted logic, th
at he’d defend her to the death.

The
more that he thought about it, the more that he was certain he was correct. It was a terrible, horrible, misdirected, unwanted, ill-advised and yet un-avoidable truth: Cait had captured his heart.

Ewan couldn’t remember how long he stayed awake, watching her sleep. Eventually, however, he drifted off. When he awoke, sunlight was streaming through the windows- and Cait was nowhere to be found.

Ewan wasn’t certain whether or not he was glad to finally have a name to put to the feeling which inspired the instant clutch of terror in his gut. Had she run away? Had someone taken her? Had something gone wrong? A half-dozen implausible scenarios scrolled through his mind- until the sound of singing drifting up through the hallway set his mind at ease.

It was Cait. Ewan slumped in relief as soon as he placed the voice sweetly performing a jaunty, simple tune. It was a song that he remembered from his childhood- the sort of song that his mother sang while overseeing the house, and the sense of peaceful contentment he’d first noticed the night before redoubled.

Eventually, the song ended. Ewan strained his ears to keep listening to Cait’s movements. The patter of her feet was so light that it was difficult to trace around the kitchen, but he gradually made out that she was either cooking or performing some other chore. Feeling guilty, he crawled out of bed.

Ewan’s
clothes
had been folded over the end of the bed, and a new shirt had been laid out. He donned them quickly, and then started down the steps. As he suspected, Cait was bustling about. A rag was in her hand as she polished the wooden furniture.

“Good morning,” Ewan said, walking up behind her and planting a kiss on her cheek. He absolutely
loved
the way that her skin burst into a glow.

“Good morning to you, Mr. Cameron,” Cait replied. “You’re up early.”

“Am I?” he asked, still nuzzling her neck. “What time is it?”
 

“Not
quite
noon,” Cait retorted- and then she broke into the wide grin that she’d been holding back.

Ewan growled in mock annoyance, and then tickled her ribs in playful punishment, but almost as soon as he started to touch her skin, his playfulness deepened into something hotter.

“Ewan!” Cait murmured appreciatively as his hands teased the undersides of her breasts through her bodice.

“Oh, I can make you say it louder than
that
,” he breathed into her ear, gratified and enflamed by the hitch in her breath and the way that her fingers were clutching restlessly at her skirts.

Cait made a mewling sound of satisfaction, but then reluctantly pulled away. “We don’t have time,” she said regretfully.

“What?” Ewan said, frowning.

“Mrs. MacEantach should be here right about-“ she paused when she was interrupted by a knock, “Now,” she finished with a heavy sigh.

“What?” Ewan growled again, following Cait to the door. He trailed a few feet in her wake as she bustled out of the kitchen, hung her apron on a hook and hurried toward the door.

“I saw her this morning in the village,” Cait explained apologetically.

“In
town
?” Ewan asked, agog. He hadn’t quite believed that it was truly already noon.

Cait nodded, “I needed some eggs and flour and…well, a few things for meals today, and someone pointed me out, and well…”

There was another knock on the door, this time heavier than before. Cait pecked Ewan on the cheek, gave him a final, sorrowful smile, and then
flung the door open, “Mrs. MacE
antach!” she said with a wide smile, “How delighted we are that you could come.”