A Year and a Day (41 page)

Cait was ashamed to admit it, but she’d almost forgotten how handsome he was: the broad sweep of his shoulders, the powerful, the boyish, yet rugged handsomeness of his face. Even a glance was still enough to send her weak at the knees!

He had changed a little. Thinking back, Cait noted that his hair had gone slightly grey around the temples. His face looked
lined
and sad- not like a man
looking forward to his wedding. She
didn’t know if that was comforting or not.

Cait had lied when she told Muira that she intended to see Ewan. She had every hope of leaving the castle without ever letting him know that she was there. Now that she’d seen him, however, it felt like an almost physical force was tugging on her heart. All of the “What ifs’ that she’d managed to push away suddenly returned with full force.

Three more days…
She promised herself,
Three more days and it will all be over.

All except the crying, that was.

Three more days
.
Ewan spent most of the morning repeating the fact over and over in his mind, hoping that repetition would help it sink in.

Three more days…

He passed most of the morning with his brother-in-law, and the afternoon entertaining his guests. He didn’t have more than a few minutes with his bride-to-be. He was grateful to learn that James had taken her riding in the early afternoon and
that
they hadn’t returned until late. When they did come back, Ewan was already heading down to the dining hall, grateful for yet another busy distraction.

He’d
almost
convinced himself that he hadn’t seen Cait at all. He had run after her image, of course, but when he’d arrived, there was nothing there. The hallway was completely deserted, save for a wall-hanging fluttering in the breeze. Ther
e wasn’t any sound or
any signal, nothing but the eerie memory and the lingering scent of her perfume.

Ewan’s heart clenched when he remembered the smell. Like a k
ey opening up a lock, the simple
aroma of lemons and lavender had released his memories in a veritable flood.

He didn’t mention what he’d seen to
Lachlan
or the others. He had almost forgotten when he went to bed, but then the memories returned. He remained awake long into the night, staring into the darkness, half-hoping and half-fearing to see her again.

Two more days…

That was the first thought on Ewan’s mind when he awoke the following morning. The second was, as ever, of Cait. He remembered how he always awoke before her, and roused her with kisses on the back of the neck.

Without conscious design, he returned to the hallway from the morning before. He stood there for the better part of an hour- until he met James emerging from the guest wing (Ewan thought he’d do better not to answer which of their notable guests had entertained his brother for the night!) and only then did he allow himself to be led away, disappointed that the spectre had not shown herself again.

But then, perhaps it wasn’t a ghost? Ewan didn’t know what to think. He was preoccupied by the question, mostly ignoring the people around him at breakfast until a quiet voice beside him remarked, “You look like you have a lot on your mind.”

“I’m getting married tomorrow,” Ewan answered gruffly, and then sighed in relief when silence reigned again. His relief was shortlived, however.

“You saw her, didn’t you?” Muira whispered, looking as if she didn’t want to be overheard.

“Her?” Ewan glanced up, his soft green eyes locking with his sister’s matching pair- then he froze. He could almost
hear
the name on her lips, though he was certain that Muira hadn’t spoken aloud. “Cait?” he mouthed, and then paled when Muira nodded.

So, he wasn’t going crazy.

Ewan felt a chill course along his spine. He had never given much credence to tales about the spirits. There were legends, of course-
every old castle had them-
about pipers who played on in lonely
towers, and spirits of the damned
that stalked the hallways at night. As a boy, he had been suitably
terrified and quivered in his bed (
which was, of course, precisely where the tellers of the tales wanted him to stay
)
. As he grew older, however, he put less and less faith in the stories. He had been to battle. He had seen gorier sights than the bards described,
had
seen more unjust fates, and
had
sent more friends than he cared to think about ahead to their graves. Still, there was only one other occasion when he could claim to have seen a ghost.

It was the night that his mother died
, before he had been told of
her fate. Muira and James had been inconsolable that night, screaming and fighting sleep until after midnight. Ewan hadn’t had any rest since Robert died, unable to shake the fear that, like his brother, he would close his eyes and never wake up.

His body
ached
with exhaustion, and wit
h a
adness too deep for his insubstantial years. Even then, a sense of duty had overwhelmed him. He felt he owed it to his sister and brother- the one he had left- to guard them through the night. He was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, when he felt a sudden, comforting surge of warmth, and then a soft hand brushed across his brow.

“You have to sleep my darling,” a voice-
his mother’s voice-
spoke so clearly that he instantly obeyed. The presence remained beside him until he fell asleep. It wasn’t until morning that he was told his mother had passed away during the night.

Ewan had never told
anyone
about what he saw, in part because he jealously cherished the memory and, in part, because he didn’t want anyone to think he was going insane. He never asked his siblings if they had seen it too. Somehow, the fact that Muira shared his experience with Cait made the situation far more chilling!

His sister was still staring, and so Ewan quickly nodded his head. “In the hallway,” Ewan whispered, “by the gardens.”

Muira nodded, “That’s where I saw her too.”

“I think that she doesn’t want me to marry
Mary
,” Ewan blurted, not entirely understanding
where the thought had come from
. His guilty conscience, perhaps?
If
that wasn’t the case, why had Cait’s shade remained hidden until now?

“Well, you aren’t going to, are you?” Muira asked, wide-eyed.

Ewan cocked a brow, “Of course I am!” He certainly wasn’t happy about the arrangement, but that didn’t mean that he was going to change his mind. What was he meant to tell
Laird
MacMillan
- that he’d been frightened away by a ghost? “I didn’t want it to be this way,” Ewan said in an appeasing tone, “
But I can’t stop what I’ve already put into motion
. I’m going to marry
Mary
MacMillan
…and that’s
final
.”

Muira tried to say something else, but her husband had arrived.

“Perhaps your brother could use some peace, dear,”
Laird
MacRae said in an even tone that brooked no denial. Ewan had never been so grateful. He slipped away soon after dinner. Then, after begging James to watch after
Mary
for another day- for the
last
day he could justly claim for his own- he made his excuses to the castle guest
s
and went for a long ride in the woods.

Things seemed much clearer when he returned. Replaying the vision of Cait over and over in his mind, he decided that he might have misinterpreted her presence. She hadn’t seemed disturbed or angry at all. If anything, her demeanour struck him as “peaceful”.  He had the strangest notion that the bundle in her arms had actually been a child…
their
child? Could she have been pregnant when she passed away? Ewan had never considered the notion, but took a morsel of comfort from it now. He didn’t like the idea of Cait alone, even in the afterlife. As selfless and sweet as Cait was, he could half-imagine that she had come to show him that she was happy and tell him goodbye.

Deciding on this version of events, Ewan felt far more peaceful and ready to face what was to come. He knew, in his
heart that
he would never love his secon
d wife- but he didn’t have to. Mary
knew- at least, he
hoped
that she knew- about Cait. She had to accept that his heart would never be his. He would give her a fine home and a quiet life. Someday- when he was ready- she would give him a child. It was a bargain, really- nothing more than when he traded
cattle
at the market
or swapped silver for ale at the crossroads inn. Of course, that was the same notion that had launched his relationship with Cait, but in a very different way.

Ewan was able to sleep easily that night, and felt ready
to face the day. Just
after dawn, his brother-in-law and James came to take him fishing while the castle prepared.

Lachlan
was in unusually high spirits, while James seemed uncharacteristically grim. Ewan didn’t get a chance to remark on it because
Lachlan
spoke as soon as he stepped through the door. “Has my wife been here to see you yet?”

“What?” Ewan frowned, failing to anticipate the question, “No.”

“Good! I made it in time!”

“Why?”
Laird
Cameron asked, frowning.

“She has the crazy notion that you aren’t going to go through with things today.”

Ewan would have liked to have questioned the other man furt
her, but was distracted by his brother’s
arrival. Then, with a large group of other men, he was ushered out to the loch to pass the day while the ladies prepared the castle for the wedding. The event was far too public for him to have a chance to speak with
Laird
MacRae alone, and so Ewan was left to wonder alone why his sister thought he was going to lose his nerve.

Before he even knew it, he was back at home, changing into his finest
clothes
. Then, arrayed in his best ceremonial dress, he walked down into the chapel to await his bride.

The Cameron chapel was large enough to house the clan, but much t
o
o tiny to accommodate the clan
and
its guests. The
Laird
s and their wives were wedged shoulder to shoulder in the pews, while the lesser clansmen and other guests were forced to stand in the back of the church.

Ewan surveyed the chapel, somewhat surprised by the understated decorations. His sister had regaled him with grand schemes for flowers and adornments, but what he actually saw was very restrained. Muira was sitting with her husband in the first row. Ewan tried to
cat
ch her eye, expecting an encouraging smile or wink. However, she appeared distracted. She was looking over her shoulder, watching the doors of the church.

Ewan took his place near the altar, and the crowd began to quiet. In the rear of the church he saw the priest and altar boys assemble. Then the pipe organ be
gan to play
, signalling the commencement of the mass.

Ewan kept his eyes on the bible and
that
cross which
the priest was carrying in
. Then he lifted his eyes. Lady
MacMillan
made up the rear of the procession, her arm tucked around her brother’s
. She looked very
pretty and
also very sad.

Ewan knew that women were known to cry at weddings, but he thought they were meant to be happy tears!
Mary
looked as though she were actually in pain! Just before they reached the front of the church, her brother leaned over and whispered something into her ear. She nodded and visibly attempted to compose herself before she was handed over to Ewan.