A Year and a Day (4 page)

“There is,” Cait assured him. She’d made use of her years of
observing him
by selecting foods
that
she
knew
he liked. She carried
his
tray to the bedside table, set it down and turned to go. “Well, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

“No!” Ewan said before she could turn to go. “I think- I think you and I are due a talk.”

Cait
bit her lip anxiously, but eventually bobbed her head, “Yes?”

“About yesterday…” he blurted awkwardly, “I’m terribly sorry for what I said.”

“Oh!”
Cait
exhaled in a rush. She tried to convince herself that the cold, sickly feeling running down her back was actually a sensation of relief. “Oh, well. It doesn’t matter…I knew that you were hurt,” she scurried backwards, desperate to leave before she embarrassed herself. Despite the “relief” hot tears were pricking the backs of her eyes. She froze completely, however, when Ewan caught her arm.

An electric current seemed to eminate from his fingers, clutching her in
its
thrall. She couldn’t move if she wanted- and a guilty part of her definitely did not. “It was wrong of me to let you wonder- to act like…like I didn’t mean to ask for things to be done proper-like.”

It took a moment
for it
to sink in that Ewan was
not
retracting his offer. When it did, she opened her mouth, “So you still want the hand-fasting then?” she queried breathlessly.

“Aye- I still want the child. Will you have me, Cait?” He was leaning very close. Cait thought it was an unfair tactic, as his proximity made it difficult to think. Her logical mind was screaming out all the ways that this was wrong, but the only thing that seemed to matter was the feel of his breath on her cheek,
o
f his palm clasping hers, and of the delicious certainty that they’d need to be closer still if his plan would ever work.

“Yes,” she gasped without meaning to. She tried to close her mouth, but it was no use. The dam was already
broken
. “Yes, Ewan Cameron,” she said louder, “I do believe that I will.”

Ewan couldn’t account for the point of warmth that started in the center of his chest and then spread slowly into each of his limbs. It was only
Cait
, after all! Little, quiet, patched-dressed Cait who had forever trailed in his sister’s wake. It wasn’t as if she could possibly have told him
“no”.
She had a lot to gain from the arrangement that he’d proposed, but there was no denying the palpable sense of relief that he’d felt upon hearing her gentle “yes”.

It wasn’t relief, it was
satisfaction
, he mentally corrected: simple pride in a job well done. He was a leader. As such, he was accustomed to choosing the correct person for essential tasks. Upon careful reflection, Ca
it was the perfect mother for his
unborn child.

It was true that she was lowly, and had spent much of her life abroad, but she was still a part of the clan. Her mother had been distantly connected to the
Laird
- which made her high enough to be respectable, while her station kept her low enough to remain malleable to his will. He didn’t view her lack of family as detraction. There wouldn’t be any money for a dowry, of course- but that wouldn’t matter much for a handfasting as it was. More importantly, the lack of a father and brothers also meant a lack of in-laws requesting favors- which would definitely be a relief, and no one to object to his plan.

She was not without physical attractions either. The broad hips that he had noticed were balanced by a tiny waist. Shapely breasts- pert, but not overlarge- would be perfect for suckling his sons- and for providing inspiration for their conception.

Ewan felt his cheeks grow hot, and other parts of his body react as well when, perhaps
unsettled
by the spreading silence, Cait started making the bed to give her something to do. Bending almost double to spread the quilts, so that her round little bottom was bobbing up and down, she presented a powerful temptation to topple over and go directly to work.

No, it wasn’t going to be
hard
to make a baby with Cait. Even as a girl he’d found her uncommonly pretty. As a woman, he felt the attraction even more.

Trying to clear his head so as to more easily resist temptation, Ewan focused on her more abstract qualities. Sh
e was a thoughtful sort of girl. She had learned to read during her travels with her mother and was
more interested in
books than
in
dancing. While some men were threatened by her intelligence and reserve, he found it a welcome relief. In Ewan’s experience, most men preferred empty-headed wives from a fear of being outsmarted by their mates. He found nothing threatening about Cait’s edu
ca
t
ion, or the experiences
that
she’d had abroad. Her conversations were fascinating. The time they’d spent together chatting as she cleaned were some of the more enjoyable parts of his day- and they couldn’t be working on the baby
all
the time. Most important of all, level-headedness, discretion and wit were all qualities she’d pass on to their child, who would benefit from having a sensible mother as well.

Measure for measure, there wasn’t a woman in the castle who fit his qualifi
cat
ions half so well- and so he considered himself well-pleased.

“I suppose we’ll do it directly then?” Ewan said, following his custom of speaking bluntly.
Neither party was entering into the marriage with any illusions,
so there was no call for any delay.

Cait hesitated
for
only a second, but
it was
long enough for him to
catch
his breath. “Aye,” she finally whispered, “I suppose there’s no reason to wait, unless-” She didn’t finish the sentence, but the blush that suddenly flared on her cheeks captured Ewan’s interest.

“Unless?”

“Unless you…er…weren’t feeling up to…uhm…exertions.”

Ewan swallowed. His throat felt suddenly dry and constricted. “No…er…feeling quite fit, actually,” he responded.  He’d taken quite a blow to the head and he was certain to have a scar, but there wasn’t any other lasting damage.

“Well then,” Cait was still blushing. She reminded him of the roses that grew in the garden: creamy apricot on the tips, but fuchsia in the center. “I suppose there’s no reason to wait.”
 

“None,” Ewan answered, stared at her, and then cleared his throat. “I should go and talk to t
he
Laird
.”

Ewan had left for
Laird
Cameron immediately, after assuring Cait that it would be better to speak with his uncle on his own. The old man was still in mourning for the loss of his sons-
both
boys had been murdered at the pass- and Ewan thought that he was better approached alone. She half-expected that the
Laird
would refuse his blessing- surely
someone
had to see that the plan was insane- but Ewan had arrived back a half-hour later with permission and in an hour more, the deed was done. They stood in front of the anvil- the same place that all ancient clan vows were made- with only the
Laird
and such witnesses as were already milling in the yard. Cait was still wearing her dress for cleaning- plain brown homespun- with simple clogs still on her feet. Their hands were plaited together, and they consented to marriage for a year and a day. Then she was Ewan’s wife.

It was
nothing
like sh
e’d imagined
. She’d expected to have her friends around her, with Muira nearby at least, but she’d been robbed of even that. There had been no flowers, no music,
and
no wedding feast. The deal had been struck with no more circumstance than a
sale
at the festival market-
because that’s really all it was,
she thought savagely: A bargain.

As they turned down the final passageway to Ewan’s quarters, Cait became more desperate to settle her mind and look on the situation with a dispassionate mind. This wasn’t love, she reminded herself, at least not on Ewan’s part. She had settled for something less- for the illusion of sharing his life, and the hope of bearing his son, and it was folly to dream about anything else.

Yet, despite all this sound and studied wisdom floating around in Cait’s head, she wasn’t thinking of business when they finally reached Ewan’s room. He’d no more than placed his
hand on the door
, than gooseflesh spread across her skin. The fine blonde hairs on her forearm prickled when her husband turned and briefly met her eyes. “I’ll carry you over,” he announced, “It’s tradition, after all.”

“Tradition,” Cait murmured.
Ancient Customs, nothing more.
She opened her mouth to say something light and dismissive, but by then she had lost the power of speech. Ewan’s powerful forearms slipped beneath her knees. He scooped her up with barely any effort at all, stepped through the door, and deposited her on the other side.

“Well then,” he said uncertainly, when the door behind them closed, “I guess that that is that.”

“Aye,” Cait whispered shyly, her eyes darting
everywhere
in the room but the bed as she wondered what happened next.

A charged silence fell between them. It reminded Cait of the moments just in front of an electrical storm.  The air felt heavy and charged, as if any moment something was about to snap.

“So…” Ewan said, walking toward the bed. He stared at it pointedly, but didn’t make a move to sit down.

“So,”
Cait
echoed and held her ground. She didn’t know what her husband expected. She was a virgin after all. Life with the serving staff had curbed her innocence to a degree. She didn’t have any direct experience, but she knew what a man and a woman did- however improbable the action sounded when repeated second hand. Still, staring at the wall in a lo
cat
ion just behind Ewan Cameron’s head, Cait was put to mind of a time she’d been in
Paris
with her
mother
and looked across the h
orizon
. A chapel was standing on one of
the high hills
, and there had to be a road to take her there. Staring down into the unfamiliar city streets she lacked even the first idea of how she should begin.

Ewan also appeared uncertain- though she doubted it was for a similar cause.
She had listened to too many
comely
maids and farmer’s girls detail
Ewan’s prowess to suspect for even a second that he didn’t know
exactly
what to do. Still, if he did, what was stopping him?

Ewan cleared his throat, and his fingers tangled once again in the material at the edge of his shirt. “So, about the baby then…” 

“The baby…” she echoed dumbly.

“Aye…”Just as if he were approaching a skittish horse, Ewan inched forward. Cait didn’t move-
couldn’t
move if she were honest, but stood watching him with great, round eyes as she tried to anticipate what would happen next. Would he simply take her with no preliminaries? Was she meant to move first?

“I-” they both started to speak at once, and then both fell silent, and then both burst into a fit of nervous laughter when they realized what they had done.

“Now then, this can’t be too hard,” Ewan said, sounding a little more confident when he’d recovered.