A Year and a Day (48 page)

Cait squirmed in a manner that made him instantly suspicious. “Well enough,” she answered, “Lady Frasure and Muira are there,” she added, causing Ewan to suspect that she’d was intentionally blunting her answer.

Ewan was correct. The reception that Cait had received in the chapel was frosty, at its best. Apparently, the suspicions about the
MacMillan
s hadn’t been spread. Instead, quite a nasty rumor had taken hold to the effect that Cait- “Colonel Everleigh’s daughter, don’t you know?”- had called the English somehow to stop the wedding with
Mary
. It was so preposterous that Cait would have laughed- if the furious, frightened glares that she’d received from the other women hadn’t been so terrifying. She did have some friends in the castle. They did their best to make it known that any sort of verbal or physical attacks against Cait or her baby would meet with swift retribution, but she couldn’t help but wonder how long that protection could hold- especially when the battle started in earnest. It was a relief to be taken away. She’d rather take her chances in the tower.

“They’d dare to snub the Laird’s wife in his own castle?” Ewan hissed, apparently reading Cait’s fears in her eyes. His body was practically shaking with barely contained fury.

“Ewan…” Cait began in appeasing tone. She looked down at the baby, unable to meet his eyes, “You can’t blame then!”

“I absolutely can!” Ewan growled fiercely, “Give me one good reason why I should not!”

“A lot of them…” Cait started, and then bit her tongue, second-guessing the wisdom of proceeding. However, it was too late.

“Go on,” Ewan insisted.

“Well…a lot…that is, some of them don’t even have the old way,” she explained, “They don’t even see that we’re married at all and…well…you can’t blame them for thinking that this is all because of your…your…” she couldn’t bring herself to speak the word that she’d been called by Lady MacKenna. Once again, however, she didn’t have to. Ewan could read it in her eyes.

The fury that flared there was terrifying. For a second, Cait expected him to snap and head down to the chapel, exacting a bit of vengance himself.

She was closer to the truth than she knew. Ewan’s instant, primal reaction was to go and silence permanently any voice that had dared to speak against his wife. Instead, with great and obvious effort, he managed to restrain himself. God damn the
MacMillan
s and their ability to hold the other clans in thrall to their opinions! He hated to kowtow to another’s expectations, but there wasn’t a choice! He took several deep breaths, and then he turned to Cait and blurted the last words she had expected him to say:

“Will you marry me?”

“Will I-?” Cait asked, uncomprehending. She shook her head, “But I thought…we’re alreaday…”

“In a proper church,” Ewan whispered back, caressing her cheek and warming to the idea that he had so recklessly blurted, “With a proper priest and witnesses, and so there’s never any doubt again that you’re mine and you belong with me.”

“But…” Cait whispered, her jaw moving without leaking any words. She couldn’t account for how touched she was by the offer. Ewan wanted her- again.

“Forever, this time,” he breathed quietly into her hair, thinking that this was how it ought to have been from the beginning, “A year was never enough.”

Cait knew that she ought to work up some sort of protest. After all, it was only a few hours before that she’d been telling him all the reasons that she ought to go away- why it was better for them both if she and Robert drifted quietly out of his life- only, she couldn’t.

For his part, Ewan was still working to foreclose any argument, “I think I loved you years before I had the courage to take you,” he breathed into her hair, hoping that she would feel the truth of it. “When you were still a girl…when you would come to the cottage with Muira. Even then, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

“But-!” Cait stammered another half-hearted protest, but clearly wanted him to keep going.

“I think that I timed going to my room at night on purpose,” he confessed, flushing faintly. “I always hoped that I’d Caitch you there. Just having you nearby, being in the same room, sometimes talking, gave me such a sense of peace.”

Cait didn’t want to believe the declarations. After all, if they were true, why had it taken Ewan so long to act? Like the rest of his family, he had never seemed particularly restrained. Still, she could see the earnestness shimmering in his eyes. Maybe he was right. Maybe the spark between them had always been there, but both of them had been too blind to see?

“When?” Cait breathed. “When do you want to marry me?”

“Now!” Ewan answered immediately. Then, glancing toward the window, he amended, “Tomorrow night…soon,” he couldn’t give her any promises- none except his love. “This time it’s forever, Cait?”

“How long will that be?” Cait knew instinctively that Ewan would defend their little family with every bit of strength in his body, with every drop of his blood- but she worried that it wouldn’t be enough. The English army was so vast and frightening!

“I can’t tell you,” Ewan admitted, with a groan in his voice that reminded her of a falling tree. His arms slipped around her waist. “So, we’d better not waste any time.”

Robert was already asleep. Cait dabbed a kiss on his head and deposited him in a drawer lined with quilts that had been set up as a make-shift cot. Then, her attention returned to Ewan.

They only had one night, Cait thought, unable to find her courage or optimism with the English ringed around. How was she going to fit a lost lifetime of loving him into a few stolen hours? She didn’t know where to begin.

Her husband seemed to be confronting the same problem. “There are so many things I want to show you,” he breathed, fingers curling into the soft folds of her dress, “So much I want to say…” but he didn’t resort to words. Instead, his mouth descended onto hers.

So, this is
how it feels to be burned alive,
Cait thought, as the heat and power of Ewan’s body engulfed her in a rush. His rough, insistent fingers licked across her body like tiny flames, causing her own skin to Caitch and burn as well. It wasn’t long before a furious blaze had built inside her womb. The passion didn’t make her feel warmed so much as consumed.

There was never going to be a tomorrow, Cait thought distantly as Ewan tugged and ripped at her dress. There wasn’t even a pretense of holding back as his mouth and hands moved voraciously over his body, taking everything they wanted- and giving everything in return.

Cait was all too painfully aware of the competing interests for Ewan’s time. No doubt he was needed elsewhere in the castle. However, she couldn’t fight a desire to be selfish for a little while more. She held him like she was never letting go- and she certainly didn’t want to!

What ultimately drew them apart, however, was not battle, or Ewan’s duties as laird, or even his desire to sleep- it was the soft, plaintive wail of the son.

“Sorry!” Cait murmured quickly, and scurried out of bed to soothe the baby before he could disturb his father. She glanced worriedly at Ewan’s face- and was relieved to find not even a trace of annoyance.

“Bring him here!” he begged.

Surprised but pleased, Cait nodded. She carried their baby back to bed and handed him to his father while she climbed in beside them.

Robert was still fussing. “What does he want?” Ewan asked, prodding tentatively at the child’s nappy whilst simultaneously jostling him up and down in one of his arms, slowly working through the Caitalogue of what he knew about infants to try and work out what was amiss.

“Probably hungry,” Cait said apologetically as she took the baby back. “I was just getting around to giving him has last feed when you came to collect us.”

Ewan watched as she arranged the baby next to her breast. He smiled when Ewan rooted blindly, finally latching onto his mother and beginning to nurse. Ewan was absolutely fascinated by the process. He’d been around his nieces and nephews often enough but, obviously, had never witnessed such an intimate scene as this. His eyes went misty as he watched the perfect little maternal moment, and he wrapped his arms around Cait’s shoulders, drawing her into his lap so that he was curled around them both.

The soft, gentle suck of the baby, combined with the heavy, pleasant weight of Cait’s body and the shared warmth of their skin quickly overwhelmed Ewan’s ability to remain away. He finally succumbed to exhaustion. All three of them were still twined together hours later when someone finally rapped on the door.

Ewan was instantly awake. He shifted carefully out from under Cait, whipped on his kilt, and then rushed toward the door. His lieutenant was waiting outside.

“Still no sign of James?” Ewan asked, finally beginning to worry about his brother.

“No sir,” the other man answered apologetically. “Laird MacRae sent for you sir,” he explained, “The English are moving.”

After that announcement, the day moved in a blur.

They weren’t going to be able to hold out as long as he thought, Ewan
thought, bone
weary and heartsick when the canons finally fell silent at night. He couldn’t bring himself to count the number of men that they’d lost on the walls, especially with the
battle so new! The courtyard was filled with the sound of wailing women and the
uneasy silence of settling down for the night.

Ewan went up to the walls to check the lines. A small crack was forming in the eastern wall, and he wanted to make sure that the men had followed his instructions, shoring up behind it with extra stones to prevent the crack from becoming a breech.

Some of the men were leaving the wall, replaced by a smaller force to hold sentry through the night. Ewan doubted that the English would continue their attack in the darkness. There wasn’t any need. They had more than accomplished their goals in the daylight, and they couldn’t hope for the element of surprise. Therefore, he was concerned when he clearly made out a column of horses moving in the moonlight, headed for the gates.

Ewan squinted into the dimness, trying to make out the figures. One of the archers was drawing back his bow, but Ewan lifted his hands. The English riders were carrying a truce flag. They stopped at the gates. A moment later, one of the guards came running back to Ewan.

“A message!” he announced, and Ewan felt his heart skip a beat. What could the English have to say? Surely they knew that he wouldn’t surrender so soon.

He broke open the seal, only to find himself surrounded by a crowd of the other Lairds before he even had time to glance at the page.

“What does it say?” MacKenna asked.

Laird Frasure nodded, “What are his demands?”

Ewan held up a hand, requesting silence as he read. “Colonel Everleigh is requesting a meeting,” Ewan announced when he finally looked back up.

“To request a surrender?” Brodie asked, scowling.

Ewan shook his head, “It doesn’t say,” he looked in the direction of the pile of bodies that had been removed from the wall, “I don’t suppose it could hurt to listen to what he has to say. At least it might buy us some time.”

“Who does he want to go?” Lachlan MacRae asked.

“All of us,” Ewan responded, finally offering the message for inspection.

“It’s too dangerous!” Laird Frasure said firmly. Laird MacCloud nodded his agreement.

“No more than two should go.”

The identity of the two was discussed, but it was ultimately decided that Ewan and Laird Brodie would go.

Ewan pulled his brother-in-law aside while Laird Brodie said farewell to his wife. He wanted to go to Cait- but didn’t trust himself to come back if he did. “If I don’t come back…” he started to ask
Lachlan
to look after Cait, but could see that the other man had already anticipated his request.

“They’ll be safe,” he said firmly- even though he’d never really met Ewan’s wife and son, Ewan had confidence that Lachlan would keep his word.