A Year and a Day (3 page)

It was no insult to the reputation of a woman Cait’s age to enter into
such
an agreement- especially not with a man of Ewan’s standing in the clan. Besides, there was always a chance
for the arrangement to be extended.
Cait tugged her treacherous heart away from
that
line of reasoning before it had a chance to lead her astray. Yes, there was a
chance
that, at the end of the time allotted
,
Ewan would want to keep her as his wife, but it wasn’t
likely
- not when he’d
already
had a lifetime to decide whether he loved her or
not. Obviously, his answer was “no”
. Cait was only setting herself up for more heartache by hoping for more.

“A generous offer,” Cait finally sniffed, making sure that Ewan knew she was still piqued. He rolled his eyes and reached for her again.

“You don’t want to be a servant for the rest of your life?” he asked, so plainly once again that she felt wrong to be insulted. When she remained in silence, he continued, “Then it’s me you don’t fancy…”

“NO!” Cait blurted, so immediately and with such passion that her skin flared scarlet. “I mean…it isn’t that, precisely. It’s-”

Cait had never been so grateful to hear knocking at the door. She stood quickly from Ewan’s bed, and was busily folding bandages when the door creaked open. Ewan’s sister, Muira- Cait’s longtime friend- poked her auburn head through the door.
She had travelled from Eilean Donan, seat of Clan MacRae, the day before and had already checked on her brother a half-dozen times.
“How is he?” she asked in a weary tone, but her eyes lightened when she saw the bed. “Ewan!” she exclaimed, throwing the doorway completely open, “Ewan! You’re awake.”

“I tried to call to you,” Cait started to explain, but Muira more or less ignored her. Six months pregnant with her fourth child, the bubbly redhead waddled quickly to her brother’s bed.

“Oh, thank God!” Muira breathed, sinking down beside him. Her fingers fussed with his bandages and
his
dressings, double-checking Cait’s excellent work, “I thought that we’d lost you, Ewan!”

Feeling suddenly awkward, Cait slipped backwards to the door. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” she called, not expecting a reply. She received one, however.

“I’ll be waiting for your answer, Cait,” Ewan called out to her from the bed.

Cait bit her lip in the face of expectant silence and a curious stare. “I’ll…think about it,” she assured him, and then gratefully closed the door.

What was she thinking?

Cait moaned and threw herself backwards onto the tiny bed she called her own. Ewan Cameron had offered her a chance for nearly all of her dreams to come true: to escape her life as a servant, to be the mother of a child, to be his wife
(albeit briefly)
. Why couldn’t she simply take it and enjoy it while she could?

Because it would never be enough
, a voice answered for her, stating what she knew to be the truth. She’d wanted Ewan Cameron for so long- almost since the first day that they’d met- that she knew a single taste, a few days of bliss, would
only make her long for more
. It would be like the stories that she’d heard as a girl, of the foolish mortals who tasted fairy bread. Once they’d tasted the magic delight, they’d never be satisfied with mortal food again. She could see herself already, facing a lifetime of empty days, hollow with the knowledge that she could never have Ewan again.

But what if she
didn’t
take it? Cait worried. Wouldn’t she still be plagued with regret
? Wouldn’t she always wonder if she’d
missed her chance?

She was so lost in thought that she almost didn’t hear the knock at her door. It repeated a second time, more urgently, before she finally called, “Come in!”

Cait looked up, smiling weakly when Muira bustled in. Her friend looked calmer than she had before. No doubt seeing her brother awake had done her a world of good. At least it was a welcome relief after the turmoil and worry of the preceding days.

Muira waddled forward and plopped herself down on the end of Cait’s bed without waiting for an invitation. “So,” she began bluntly, not bothering with small talk, “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” Cait asked, knowing perfectly well what her friend was getting at. Muira was one of the few people that she’d confided in as a girl about her impossible crush
. She
was forever looking for “signs” that her brother recipro
cat
ed Cait’s feelings, and offering Cait encouragement where, in retrospect, perhaps she ought not to have been encouraged. Of course, it was easy for Muira to indulge in flights of fancy. She’d never known what it meant to be “not good enough”. Her own love life had turned out story-book perfect when she’d married Lachlan MacRae
.  A
fter Ewan,
he
had to be one of the most dreamworthy males on Earth.

“What Ewan said in the bedroom,” Muira said suspiciously, her grey-blue eyes locked on her best friend’s face. “Before you left
. He said something
about
‘
waiting for an answer
.’ Waiting for an answer to what?
”

Cait squirme
d. It was years since she’d
endured one of Muira’s interrogations, and yet she still knew that she wouldn’t last long. She
would divulge her secret
eventually, but not without putting up a token fight. “Why don’t you ask Ewan then, if you want to know?”

“He won’t breathe a word,” Muira snorted, her displeasure plainly written on her
pretty
face. She met Cait’s eyes in challenge. “Tell me what this is all about!”

“He asked me to have his baby,” Cait blurted, surprising even herself. This was clearly not the answer that Muira had expected, as it left the woman with a gaping mouth.

“His…er…
baby
?” Muira echoed, “Well…that’s…good? Is it already on its way?”

“Of course not!” Cait snapped, though she was almost expecting the question from her friend. “I think being injured frightened him. He doesn’t want to die without an heir He’s never even
looked
at
me that way- as you well know!
”

“I know nothing of the sort!”
Muira
retorted, “But what are you going to do? Your reputation would be ruined- but of course you’re going to say ‘yes’!”

“I wouldn’t
precisely
be ruined,” Cait replied, “At least, not under the terms
that he is suggesting
.”

Suddenly, any trace of sadness was erased from Muira’s face. For a moment, she was transformed by joy and threw her arms around her best friend’s neck. “Oh, Cait!” she gushed, “Why didn’t you say it that way? He’s gone and asked you to be his wife!”

Muira looked so happy that Cait hated to
shatter her delusions
, but it was as task which must be done. “Not his wife,” she corrected quickly, “It’s only a handfasting he wants.”
 

“A handfasting then!” Muira gushed, “It still gets you what you dreamed
of
!”

“Yes,” Cait answered, sighing, wishing that she could share Muira’s jubilation, “But
only for
a year and a day.” She didn’t know how to explain how it would feel when she lost him in the end.

“Only a year and a day for certain,”
Lady
Macrae corrected, waving off her friend’s concerns. “There’s nothing stopping him from keeping you after that.”

“Why would he want to?” Cait snorted.

“Well, you’ll have to give him a reason why!” Muira took her friends hand and rubbed it soothingly, “Don’t you see
Cait- it’s your perfect chance!
”

“My perfect chance for what?” Cait snapped bitterly. To have her heart broken? He’d already done that before.

“To show him that you’re meant to be together!” Muira insisted, and then bounced up off the bed, “Men aren’t so very hard to please, Cait. Once you have him settled he won’t want to budge.”

“Do you really think so?” Cait asked, and then mentally chided herself for starting to believe that the fantasy
that
her friend was spinning could come true. She shook her head to clear
her
thoughts, and then stood. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure he wasn’t serious anyway.”

“Ewan is
always
serious,” Muira said with a dismissive wave.

Cait rolled her eyes. “He was hit in the head with an axe!”

“Well, high-time someone knocked some sense into
my brother
,” Lady Macrae
fired
back. “It looks like someone needs to take an axe to you as well.” She seemed to take Cait’s silence as encouragement, because she pressed on, “You’re a fool if you don’t at least give him a chance.”

“Maybe,” was the only replied that was offered, and so the lady rose. “Where are you going?” Cait blurted when her friend had reached the door.

Muira only smiled, “Why, off to plan your wedding, of course.”

Cait didn’t return to Ewan’s room until the following morning. Even then, she hadn’t had time to fully settle her thoughts or
to
prepare to face him once again. Either he’d drop the entire subject from the day before, or he’d be expecting an answer at once. She didn’t know which prospect worried her more.

It had been a sleepless night, filled with doubts and remonstrations. She’d been a fool to continue nursing her crush when so many years had gone by. She didn’t need Ewan’s charity
to drag
her up
from being a servant
. There were plenty of men who would have offered for her
if she had given them any encouragement
. She had simply chosen not
to pursue those options
.

She tried to avoi
d him altogether, but Muira saw to it that
she could not. “
Ewan wants
his breakfast,” she announced when they met in the dining hall that morning. In front of two dozen clansmen there was no way to pretend that she hadn’t heard, “I told him you’d be right up.” And so, Cait had no choice but to fill a tray and carry it to Ewan’s room.

Expecting him to be in bed, she didn’t bother to knock- but then she was struck silent and still by the sight which greeted her on the other side of the door. Still moving slowly, as though all of his mucles ached, Ewan was getting dressed. His torso was naked, and Cait stared, dumbstruck by the sight.

Cait had never seen a naked man up close,
but she was not so innocent
as to never have a glimpse of the wood
sman chopping without his shirt or
a pack of kitchen lads off in the
Loch
, enjoying a summer swim. She knew
generally
how things were meant to be, and knew intuitively that Ewan exceeded them all.

He had always been a tall, well proportioned man. Standing a head and a half above little Cait, the top of her forehead would fit just underneath his chin. His broad shoulders and muscled arms could easily wrap around her body, just as she had dreamed of being enfolded.
His
muscles were all well d
efined- not bulging, but sleek-
attesting to the long hours he spent riding and shooting and practicing with swords. She couldn’t help but admire his beauty, or prevent a sigh of frustration when the shirt was finally pulled over his head.

With a warrior’s instincts, he heard the sound. His body tensed and swung toward the door. Then he saw Cait, and softened. “Good morning, Cait” he called cordially as he straightened his attire, “I didn’t see you’d come. Bring me breakfast, did you? Well, I hope there’s plenty- I’m starved.”