A Year and a Day (31 page)

Muira frowned for a moment, and then she clamped her hand over her mouth.”Oh, God,” she breathed, “He finally told you. Oh, Cait! I’m so terribly sorry! It isn’t what he wanted to do. You
have
to know that!”

Cait sniffled and nodded.

“It isn’t what he wanted to do at all, Cait. You
know
he’d stay with you if he could. He hasn’t said so, but I’m sure that he loves you.”
 

Cait felt a little flutter of warmth at the comment, and finally raised her head to meet Muira’s eyes. She was puzzled and disconcerted by the clear concern that she saw there. Was the battle going to be worse than she imagined? Did Muira know something that she didn’t?

“I can’t imagine how angry you are,” Muira said, seeming to argue for the latter position.

“Angry?”

“It simply isn’t fair. I think Ewan’s just horrible for caving to pressure, even if it is from our uncle. He loves you! He’s just got a terribly skewed sense of duty…Oh, Cait! It isn’t fair!”

“It isn’t,” Cait agreed, although she was no longer sure that they were talking about the same thing.

“It makes me sick to think that he’ll simply jump at Uncle’s commands!”
 

“But…” Cait disagreed gently, “Surely it’s understandable with the castle under attack?”

“Did they know that the castle was going to be under attack when they planned it?” Muira asked hotly, her anger confusing Cait even
more.
“Isn’t it convenient that he can simply ride away? I swear! Sometimes the brothers of mine make me sick. I think it’s barbaric- for Ewan to simply decide that he can throw your marriage away.”

“Throw it away?” Cait repeated in a tiny, hollow voice, prickles of danger crackling over her skin.

Muira reached for Cait’s hands and squeezed them gently. “He wasn’t supposed to tell you alone. That was never the plan. He brought me here because it might have helped. Oh, Cait. You
have to believe that he doesn’t want this
,” Muira said tenderly, “But you also have to
know
that it’s for the best- even if it doesn’t feel like that now.”

“What’s for the best?” Cait asked, feeling as if she were floundering in confusion.

Muira frowned, “Cait- don’t worry. I already know. We talked about it before I came.”
 

“About what?”
 

“About what Ewan said to you, of course,” Muira responded, “I
told
him that he should have told you straight away, but he kept dragging his feat. Something like this was bound to happen.”

“Something like what?” Cait demanded, growing agitated with the fact that she was clearly missing a part of the conversation, “What is it that Ewan was meant to have done?”

“Why, breaking
things off
with you, of course,” Muira said flatly, but her eyes widened considerably when Cait only looked dazed. Muira covered her mouth again, “Oh, God…he didn’t…he never…Oh, God-
Cait
! I thought he’d told you ages ago. Don’t tell me that my brother was
that
evil, that he’s been…Oh,
God!
”

“What are you saying, Muira?” Cait asked, her voice utterly hollow and cold. She didn’t even feel the words leaving her mouth. Her entire body had gone numb.

Muira took a deep breath, “I mean…” she said quietly, “That Ewan came here for a reason. He was under orders by our uncle…,” she said, bluntly but kindly. “Your marriage is through. Uncle wants him to marry someone else.”

Cait felt as though she were inside a wagon that had suddenly thrown a wheel, or if she had stepped into an unexpected hole. Shock and pain lanced through her body, knocking her off her footing.

Muira reached forward to
Cait
ch her at the last possible moment, nearly causing herself to tumble over. “Cait?” she said anxiously, “Cait? I’m sorry- He told me and…well, I thought you’d want someone here. I know it’s awful, but I’m certain that he still loves you.  It is just going to take a little time.”

“Who?”

Cait wasn’t sure where the word came from, and she couldn’t begin to guess why her mind was so willing to torture her heart with the question, but it became suddenly imperative to know who was meant to replace her at Ewan’s side…in his bed…

Muira blinked, “I…er…thought…that is…” she sputtered, “Didn’t he tell you?” she asked.

Cait shook her head numbly- and then horrified realization began to break across Muira’s face.

“He never….he never told you
anything
?” She clapped a hand across her mouth. “Oh, God!” she breathed, not even caring about the blasphemy. “Oh, Cait! I’m so sorry!”

“He tried to tell me!” Cait wailed, experiencing her own epiphany as she thought back to the week that she had just spent with her husband- how awkward things had been, how he never wanted to talk about a future- how careful he had been not to
risk making her pregnant
. She felt her body growing cold as the memories of the passion they had shared froze and shattered.

“Cait!” Muira looked anxiously from side to side- as if she would give anything to take back what she had blurted, “Maybe…maybe there was a mistake.”

“Was there?” Cait shot back, causing Muira to cower. The redhead bit her lip, and then shook her head sheepishly. “Uncle made him promise,” she said quietly. “He didn’t want to do it….Cait- it was the only way! The Camerons need him!”

“And what about me?” Cait spat back, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew that it was selfish. Who was
she
to take precedence over an entire clan? She was no one: just a servant, a disposable vessel whose only purpose had ever been to bear his child- until he decided that he didn’t even want her for that anymore- but she couldn’t help the way that she felt.

Muira floundered for a moment, but finally stated flatly: “Ewan loves you. I know he does.”

Cait’s lip quivered as she shook her head, “But not enough,” she whispered in a tiny voice. She didn’t even notice as one of her hands drifted to her stomach, cradling it protectively as she wondered what this would mean for their child. Almost as if Muira could read her mind, she spoke:

“It isn’t
you
, Cait,” she said sadly, “It’s that you’re English…Cait…Ewan didn’t want you to know- but it’s
your
father that’s leading them into the clan lands…He can’t have you as his wife and be
Laird
- and we need him now.”

“
The Camerons
need him now,” Cait corrected waspishly. “You seem to be doing quiet well as a wife that the
MacRaes
would never accept.”

“You know it isn’t the same,” Muira countered, looking simultaneously annoyed and sympathetic. “Oh, Cait, I wish that it was any other way.”

Cait hefted her chin defiantly, even as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Not as much as me!”

Muira reached for her friend, but Cait evaded the touch. “Leave me alone!” she shrieked, dimly aware that she was behaving foolishly, but utterly unable to care. Muira watched helplessly as he sister-in-law stumbled up the stairs and out of view.

Once safely inside her room, Cait collapsed onto the bed and started crying in earnest. Face down on the mattress that was still scented like her husband’s skin, the tears fell harder and faster until she was barely able to breathe. Surely
nothing
had ever hurt so much? It was one thing to be unwanted, but discarded was so much worse! Muira said that Ewan had promised the
Laird
that he was going to let her go. That meant that he had sealed his intentions even before he returned.

Everything that he had told her was a lie. Every kiss, every touch, every moment inside her body was a game that he had cruelly played, knowing that he held every card.

What was she going to do next?

Somehow, the question struggled up through the pain. Cait tried to focus on it- to pay attention to the practicalities in a desperate attempt to maintain her sanity. If Ewan needed to father an heir with another woman, he certainly couldn’t have a baby with Cait. Would he demand that she get rid of the child? Cait shivered, knowing instantly that this request, if given, was one that she could never grant. The more tenuous her grasp on Ewan became, the more that she clung to the idea of their child- to the hope that
something,
ever how small and tarnished- would live on of the dream she had briefly held.

They would have to go away. Cait turned the notion over in her mind. She was lucky, she supposed, to have travelled a bit before. Through necessity, her mother had taught her the tricks of charming lodging out of a wary landlord, and winning passage on a ship. She couldn’t risk taking the road west back to Cameron lands. She would have to cross the river, into Frasure territory, and then make it down to the lowlands. She could
catch
a ship in
Edinburgh
.

Cait’s mind whirled feverishly, in stark contrast to the stillness of her exhausted body. She didn’t have much money, apart from what Ewan had given her for the household accounts. Surely he couldn’t begrudge her a small portion of that money? After all, he owed her something.

Finally, by the time that the sun began to set, she had seized upon a plan. She would take half of the silver Ewan had left her. She could send back what she didn’t need, or leave instructions for him to be repaid from her own small stash of savings back at the Castle. She knew there was a market town just inside the Frasure lands. From there, she could travel with the merchants, who would surely go south for summer trading, and finally she could sail back home.

Home? Cait frowned at the thought. She
sounded
English, and her girlhood had been passed there, but she had never pictured anything other than the sunwarmed stones of castle Cameron as home- if only the other Camerons felt that way! Once again, her palm rested protectively on her child. She was suddenly, bitterly aware that she was repeating history. Just like her mother, she was running away. Just like herself, her child would never belong- but what other choice did she have?

None
, she answered firmly. There was nothing else to do. She had to leave. She had to go away
forever
.

Ewan had never felt so weary in his life. Pure adrenaline had carried him the first 12 hours from Glen Mohr but, as he continued through the night, gradually joined by men he collected along the way, the buzz began to fade, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion.

At midnight, they had finally decided to stop. They didn’t know what they would find at the castle, and it wasn’t wise to ride to the point of collapse, but the night was sleepless, and he was back in the saddle again at dawn. His mind was too full of nervous energy to stop and think- and so he was insulated for a while against the memory of Cait’s desolated face when he had said goodbye. However, as the miles plodded past, and the hours stretched on, he began to lose his focus. Beginning slowly, his mind returned down the winding road to the Frasure borders, back to the house at Glen Mohr, and the soft bed that he had shared with his wife.

Cait would just be waking
, Ewan thought, losing himself for a moment in the pleasant memory of how she looked, stretched out in the white sunshine that poured through the windows and onto her sleeping body.  She slept like a little girl, knees tucked up against her body, arms curled together, face a perfect picture of peace. He almost always regretted that he had to wake her, and tried to do so in the most pleasant way possible: raining kisses against her silky skin.

He could almost
smell
Cait- a far more appetizing smell than the reek of men and horseflesh that had accompanied him through the night. However, he wasn’t sure that he was grateful for the memories. They reminded him of how long it would be before he sampled any of her delights again.

Ewan sighed and dragged himself from the memories- with impeccable timing, as it turned out. Almost as soon as they topped the next ridge, a cry came from one of his men. The war chieftain followed his gesture to a slender column of smoke on the next ridge, and Ewan’s heart plummeted when he recognized it as the smouldering remains of a crossroads market town.