A Year and a Day (10 page)

Unfortunately, her pleas fell on deaf (or slumbering) ears. Ewan smacked his lips sleepily a few times, and showed not the slightest intention to move.

“Ewan!” she pleaded, “Please,
please
let me go. I have to help with breakfast. I’ll hurry back as soon as I can. I’ll get a beating if-“

“A beating?” the blue eyes popped open as if he’d never been asleep at all, and a dark frown clouded his face. “Who would dare to raise a hand on you?”
 

“The…the housekeeper,” Cait responded, real tears welling up in her eyes now when she heard the bells for the morning mass drifting up from the village chapel. It was
past
time to have helped with breakfast to judge by their tolling. She was
already
doomed and could only beg for mercy.

Ewan looked dumbfounded by her response, “The housekeeper?” he snarled angrily, “The
housekeeper
would dare to lay a hand on
my wife
?”

Cait blinked, not understanding his meaning, “But…but not
really
…” she finally whispered, but stopped trying to squirm away.

“Yes,
really
,” Ewan drawled, crawling closer. He hadn’t yet released her waist. He hauled her onto his chest, front to front, and then tilted his hips, letting her feel his positively
enormous
erection. “It’s a bit insulting that you keep forgetting.”

Cait exhaled slowly, not knowing what to say, how to react, or even how to feel. She still didn’t fully guess what he was saying. Surely she was still required to perform her chores? Or was she only meant to service
him
now? She had the impression that Ewan was trying to make some sort of point- but he had gotten distracted by his own, drowsy arousal. Whatever he’d meant to teach her was lost in a flurry of kisses along her shoulders, “Perhaps I ought to refresh your memory?” he growled.

A wave of warmth shot through Cait’s body at the suggestion, pooling in the center of her womb. Her shoulders finally slumped in submission. There was really no sense fighting what both her Ewan and her own baser instincts craved. She barely resisted as he parted her legs, and then slipped into her waiting heat.

It didn’t hurt at all this time, even despite her soreness. She was astonished and faintly embarrassed by how ready her own body had been, already slick and still stretched from the night before. Despite the ease with which she took him, the pleasure wasn’t dimmed in the least.

Afterwards,
Ewan
shifted his weight, bearing most of it on his knees so that he could keep his head resting on her chest. Cait’s giggled when the short, rough hairs of his beard tickled across her skin, and then
her
fingers acted of their own accord, tenderly the line of the jaw they covered. Ewan sighed like a contented child, and let his eyes drift shut again.

However, despite physical exhaustion, Cait found that she was in no mood to sleep. A nervous energy spread through her limbs. She waited until she thought that
Ewan
was asleep, and then slipped carefully out of bed.

Once she had redonned her rumpled clothes, splashed some water on her face, and combed her hair, she walked to the window and peered outside. Once again, she tried to think seriously about her predicament. Clearly, Ewan expected her to
act
as though she were his real wife- at least in some manner. She needed to establish what the boundaries were. At a minimum, it seemed, she wasn’t expected to carry on her old duties and she’d live here in his room. She supposed it made sense to move down some of her things. At the very least, she needed a proper dress. Making up her mind to attend this task immediately, she headed for the door.

This time, it was not a touch, but Ewan’s voice that stopped her.

“Leaving again?” he groaned.

Cait didn’t respond to the question directly. “A bit of a light sleeper, aren’t you?” she asked, smiling as she tried to reconcile this fact with his lazy sluggishness a few minutes before.

“Comes in handy on the borders, lass,” he responded in a tone less playful than she would have expected, and she reminded herself that, though he seemed playful and docile now, Ewan had been a warrior for many years. It was no wonder that he liked to linger in a soft bed. No doubt it was a rarity to have one!

“I’m going to my room,” Cait said after a slight pause. “I need to fetch my clothes and personal effects.”

“We’ll send a lad to fetch them,” Ewan said, still protesting, but finally sitting up on the bed and stretching his arms.

“Ewan, I need something to wear
today
!” she said, exasperated if pleased by his insistence.

“But I like you better naked,” he purred, coming to stand behind her. Cait melted back against him when he twined his arms around her waist. She snuggled there for a moment, but finally pulled away.

“We
do
have to leave the room eventually,” she pointed out.

“Aye,” Ewan said, sighing heavily. Cait squealed when he smacked her on her bottom. “Off with ye then,” he said. “and hurry back.”

Cait nodded and scurried off. She had every intention of complying with his command, but when she arrived in her room she became distracted sorting through her meager cache of belongings. She didn’t want to return to Ewan in her washing clothes- but there were barely any other options! She had the plain black wool gown that she wore to church, a few frayed skirts and bodices for day to day, and an old, hand-me-down dress of Muira’s that she wore when they
Laird
was holding Hall. Although she hated to appear before Ewan in his sister’s old clothes, it was the only gown that came close to being appropriate. So, sighing regretfully, she tugged it over her head.

It was a struggle to do up the stays. After
that,
it took more time to do her hair. She had lots of practice helping the ladies of the house, but not nearly enough pins or ribbons to accomplish something elaborate on her own. In the end she settled for a pretty braid curled around her head, interwoven with a length of green ribbon Mrs. Gibbons had given her for Christmas, and then slipped her feet into a pair of fraying slippers half a size too small.

She looked into the mirror and nearly burst into tears. Her hair and face were beautiful. At least she was lucky in that. The gown wasn’t
awful
, but neither was it suitable for the wife of the
War Chieftain
of Clan Cameron! It was both too fine and too worn for her to wear lounging around the castle. With a squeal of frustration, she took it off again.

Lacking any other options, she put her church dress on. Worn with a cheerful bodice and a tartan shawl it was serviceable at least. Feeling rather depressed about her wardrobe, Cait headed back downstairs.

Ewan was sitting at a table by the fire, chomping hungrily on a place of eggs and ham.

“Lunch?” Cait enquired as she stepped back through the door.

“Breakfast,” Ewan corrected.

She felt his eyes raking over her figure, and so she confronted his scrutiny and asked, “Well, how to I look?”
 

He hesitated for a moment and then said, not very convincingly, “Very bonnie…but…”

“But?” Cait asked, frowning.

“But…nothing,” he said
too
quickly.

“Ewan?” Cait said with a sigh, hoping that Ewan was better at fighting than he was at lying. She could see the way he diverted his eyes.

“But…I want to buy you a present, that’s all,” He announced, sounding more sure of himself.

Cait’s eyebrows furrowed uncertainly. “A present.”

“Aye,” he said, kissing the bridge of her nose and instantly evaporating the frown. “It’s market day, isn’t it?”

“Yes…” Cait said slowly.

“And I haven’t bought you a wedding present, have I?”
 

“No, but…” Cait started slowly.

“And you can’t go around looking like
that
all the time,” he continued, so smoothly that he must have surprised even himself, because he added quickly, “I mean- you look very pretty!” he corrected, “But you need a new dress or two for the new things you’ll be doing.”

Cait was surprised that she managed to hold her expression. She wanted to burst into tears at the unspoken comment on her attire- but she had to admit that Ewan was saying nothing more than the truth. She’d noted herself that she had only a single gown befitting a lady wife, and that was only for special occasions.

“Maybe we could find a bit of fabric,” Cait said, wondering if she could find the box of old patterns she’d used to help sew Muira’s dresses a few years back.

“It’s settled then,” Ewan said, relief sparking in his eyes. “We’ll have lunch and then be off.”

“But you just had lunch!” Cait said, nodding at the tray.

“Breakfast,” Ewan corrected again with a wink, “Didn’t touch it, really,” he said, despite the crumb-filled plate, “Worked up a good appetite,” he added in a sultry whisper that caused Cait to blush.

“But…” Cait started to argue.
Everyone
in the castle would be at luncheon, and she didn’t know what they were expecting to see, or what they would say when confronted with
her
and Ewan together. “But…”

“But?” he asked, adjusting his plaid in front of a mirror.

“But…everyone will see us together,” she finally blurted, “They’ll ask questions.”

Ewan waved away her protest, “Why shouldn’t they know?” he asked, “It’s common knowledge, and then that don’t know will be asking questions soon enough,” he said, giving her still-flat belly a suggestive pat. “Are we off then?” he said in a tone which implied that this was a statement and not a question.

Still full of misgivings, Cait took his arm and started down the steps to dinner. To her relief, the very fine autumn day had kept most of the household away from the midday meal. Among the principle family there was only the
Laird
, who nodded their direction, his wife (who offered Cait a congratulatory kiss), and James who kept looking at his brother askance, as if he were still struggling to work out the punchline to a joke. A few dozen of the commoners were milling about at the lower tables, but they didn’t appear to pay much mind to the new Mrs. Cameron- at least, those who weren’t young ladies did not. More than one blue-eyes miss pointed and whispered in Cait’s direction. More often than not, an answering whisper- no doubt the tidbit of gossip concerning that she was Ewan’s wife
- ended
with a vicious scowl.

The meal was swiftly concluded. Cait wasn’t hungry, and Ewan had the “breakfast” in their room. It wasn’t long before they were off.

“Can you ride a horse, Beauty?” he asked when they were back outside in the sunshine. The compliment, offered a second time, caused her ears to turn pink.

“Not very well,” she replied, though the frank truth was that she didn’t ride at all.

Luckily, this wasn’t good enough. Ewan nodded his head, “Up for a good stretch of the legs then?” he asked, “Or should I order up the carriage?”

“It’s only half a mile!” Cait said, laughing. She’d walked five times as far on errands for the castle- and without such pleasant company.

“Fair enough,” he answered, and then led the way out of the castle gates.

The actual distance to the village was only to the bottom of Ben Cameron, a high, craggy hill upon which the castle was sat, but the road purposefully spiraled around the castle in three loops, both to compensate for the grade and to put off any invaders. It was a cold day, but the exercise and the bright sunshine chased away any chill.

Cait walked close to, but slightly behind Ewan, not certain where she was meant to be. Her discomfort wore off before they were very far, however. Soon, they had fallen into a comfortable conversation about what they hoped to find at the fair.