Cait and the Devil (4 page)

She felt strangely emotional in her exhaustion. She wanted to cry. She wanted to smile. She wanted to have the earl’s attention. She wanted him to like her, not glare at her and dismiss her.
More than all that, she wanted to look at him some more, because it pleased her so much to look at him.
It pleased her too much. It excited her. It made her heart beat hard.

She hated to admit it, how handsome and appealing she found him. His hand on hers had been strong and reassuring. If only he didn’t sigh and frown so much, she might have been able to at least pretend he liked her.

No matter. There was nothing to be done about it. She supposed these arranged marriages happened all the time. Husbands and wives made the best of them and learned to live with each other. Maybe someday, if she was sweet and charming enough, he would be able to see past her faults and appearance and find a way to bear being near her. Maybe tomorrow when she was rested, when she didn’t look so tired and stumble over her words, he would find her more appealing as a wife.

“Henna,” she asked in the darkened room. “Will I see him tomorrow?”

“Of course you will. He’s your husband now. He’ll be about. And he sleeps right there, over in the next room beside yours.”

“What can a wife do, Henna, to make her husband glad?”

Henna frowned. “Well, I’m sure he’s glad of
ya
, Caitlyn. He’s just...he’s getting used to being married again. You don’t take it to mean he’s not concerned for your well being, because I’m sure he is. He’ll be a good husband to you.”

“Only because he has to,” whispered
Cait
.

“Oh, lass.
When you get to know him and he gets to know you, things will be different. Mark my words. You may not find love with each other, but if you respect one another you’ll live happily. I see already you care for his happiness. He’s a lucky man for that.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to make him happy. I think I’m not pretty enough, and not what he wanted.”

“Oh, now, you don’t talk that way. You’re a lovely girl, and well mannered and sweet, with those childbearing hips that men prefer. You don’t go worrying your pretty head about these matters tonight. It takes time for a marriage to take shape.
Time and patience and understanding.
And respect.”

“Will he ever love me, Henna? Do you think?” she asked wistfully. She didn’t know why she was being so silly and sentimental over him. She supposed it was because his eyes were so unbelievably beautiful and compelling.

“I hope he will, sweet. If you want love, I hope you find it.
Both of
ya
together.
It happens more often than you think. Now close your eyes and rest. You’re plumb exhausted. It’s late and the castle will be up and astir as soon as the sun rises in the sky.
Rest and sleep now.
You’re safe in your husband’s castle. Tomorrow’s a new day, with new experiences to come.”

She stroked
Cait’s
hair in a motherly fashion, and tears came to
Cait’s
eyes from remembering Erma doing the same.

“Henna, thank you,” she murmured sleepily.

“I’m here to be a help to
ya
, lass. Whatever you need, you let Mama Henna know and I’ll do what I can.”

Can you make him fall in love with me, Henna? I think that’s what I’d really like.

And with that thought, her eyes closed and she dreamed of pale grey eyes and strong capable hands, and the feeling of one day nestling in his welcoming arms.

* * * * *

Damn it. Of course sleep would be impossible. She was so close to him, so near. He swore he could smell the fetching scent of her skin through the stone wall. God, it was insufferable. Why hadn’t he just availed himself of her? She was his now anyway, no man could say she was not. He sighed heavily and took his cock in hand again, stroking it, soothing it. As he’d expected, self-abuse took none of the yearning away.

He remembered the curve of her neck and back as she’d bowed before him. How he longed to put his hands on that graceful neck and tilt her head back, baring her throat to his touch, his lick, his bite. He wanted to strip her naked and lick every godforsaken inch of her. Lay her down and run his hands over her
pillowy
breasts, her supple thighs. He hadn’t even seen her goddamn thighs yet, but he knew they were perfect just like the rest of her. He would have given anything, anything at all just to walk through the door to her room and bare those thighs to his gaze. But then he’d have to put his hands on them, and he’d spread them wide and—

Enough.
He remembered the blood, the screaming, the accusations as Lenore lay dying. Did he really want to risk that again, especially with a treasure like Caitlyn? He was a bastard. It made no difference if he had an heir or not. The attraction to her would wear off. It had to, with time and exposure and a concerted effort not to be near her, not to touch her or look in her beguiling eyes. He would assign keepers to her and let her go where she wanted, do what she wanted, see who she wanted, as long as she left him alone.

And Henna would look after her too. She had already taken the girl firmly under her wing. It would be fine. He would just avoid her until he sorted out what to do, how to deal with her, how to keep his vile desires from ruining her life. He was a strong man. He could bear anything.
As long as he didn’t see her naked.
By God, as long as he wasn’t inflicted with that.
As long as he didn’t have to see the curve of her hips tapering down to her delicately round... God help him.

He imagined for the hundredth time pulling her over his lap to run his hands over her shapely bottom. Rubbing it, cupping it, parting the cheeks to caress her and make her moan.
Landing a sharp smack, watching her jump, feeling her twist against him.
His cock was rock hard again. He took it in his hand with a sigh. How he would love to belabor her beautiful bottom, make it scarlet and sore, and then pull her up in his arms and soothe her, make it all better by impaling her on his cock—ah—

Masturbation was getting him nowhere. Even after the climax, the desire was still there. He turned on his side, determined to salvage what he could of the night, determined to sleep.

Determined to forget about the girl who’d stoked such dangerous fires back to life.

Chapter Three

Cait
slept long, long past morning. When she awakened she had no idea what time it was, only that the sun was high in the sky. She had nothing to wear aside from the sheer shift. In fact there was nothing in the room she occupied except for the bed she lay on and a wooden chair beside it.

She remembered then what Henna had told her the night before, that the earl slept in the room adjoining hers. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders and crept over to the door in the wall and put her ear to it. She heard no sound. She unlocked it, trying not to make any noise. Slowly she opened the door until there was a small crack to peek through. She saw his massive bed, rumpled and unmade, but he wasn’t in it. Of course, he was not the sort of man to lie in bed all day. He’d probably been up at dawn working, fighting, whatever the king’s men did. She spun as the door to her own room opened and Henna bustled in.
Cait
guiltily shut the door to the earl’s room and leaned back against it.

Henna laughed. “Oh lass, you look like the cat that stole the buttermilk. Take a look if it pleases
ya
. He’s not there.”

“Where is he?”

“Down on the practice fields, I gather, or meeting with his men in the hall. Take a look. He has nothing to hide from you.”

“What if he catches me? He’ll be angry.”

“Of course he won’t. He’s your husband.”

“I better not,” she said, even though she really wanted to go in and lie in his bed and breathe in the smell of him.

“Well, I’ve brought you some breakfast,” Henna said, laying a heavily laden tray on the chair beside
Cait’s
bed. “And I’ve set the seamstress to sewing a gown for you too. It should be done shortly.
Something simple to keep you warm until you choose fabric for more fashionable dresses.
The earl will want you to have several pretty gowns, I’m sure.”

“Will he?”
Cait
was skeptical. She sat on the bed and picked at the tray. The fresh bread and milk looked and smelled wonderful, but she didn’t feel like eating.

“Go on, now,” Henna urged. “You’re far too thin. I’ll be unhappy if you don’t eat it, lass.”

Slowly,
Cait
forced herself to eat. She would have given anything for this warm, delicious food on the journey here, but now it didn’t appeal to her. She wondered when she would see the earl again.

“May I walk around the grounds, around the castle?” asked
Cait
.

“You certainly may. The earl wishes for you to have a guard at all times though. You can’t go wandering around alone, being his wife and the king’s daughter.”

“Why? Am I in danger?”

“Of
course not, lass, but you can never
be too careful. Someone has a tiff with the king, or an itch to ransom the wife of the Earl of Inverness, you know how it is.”

“Ransom?
I never thought of such a thing.”

“Well,
there’s bandits
about who’ll think of almost anything to gain some coin by ill means. You shouldn’t forget that. Just stay by your guard and you’ll be perfectly safe. You’re to be allowed to go wherever you wish as long as you don’t go by yourself.”

“Oh,” said
Cait
. “I guess I can do that.”

After breakfast
Cait’s
new gown still wasn’t ready, so she put on the gown from the day before and decided to wander around. Her guard, a young soldier named
Mitchum
, looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else than tagging along after her. But duty was duty, she supposed, and if the earl wanted him to follow her around, it wasn’t her fault. She explored every inch of the castle from top to bottom, strolled around the grounds, and even ventured a short distance into the town.

She walked everywhere and looked everywhere but not once did she manage to catch sight of the man she wanted to see.
Him.
The Devil.
Her husband.

She might have asked
Mitchum
where he was if she wasn’t so embarrassed, and if he didn’t have such an annoyed frown on his face. She would have asked Henna, but she kept so busy with the running of the castle all day that
Cait
was loathe to disturb her. She wished she would just run into him. She didn’t know why she wanted to see him so much. She was curious, that was all.
And lonely.
And she wanted him to touch her hand again.

But no, she saw him nowhere. For all she knew, he might have ridden off to another town for the day or the week or...God, she hoped not...the month. Dejected, she returned to the castle. Her guard dropped her off with relief at her room. Again, skittishly, she cracked open the door to his bedroom but no, no sign of him there.

After a moment’s hesitation she slipped into the silent room, shutting the door behind her. It was much larger than her room, which made sense because he was so much larger than she. It was not much more furnished though.
The large bed, a couple of chairs, a chest in the corner.
A couple of weapons leaning against the wall she was afraid to touch, although she looked at them closely, frightening as they were.

Against her better judgment, she went to his bed and crawled into it, not worrying overmuch about jostling the bedding since he apparently never made his bed. The sheets were tangled in a ball. How he must toss and turn in his sleep! She smoothed them out carefully. If he caught her now she could just claim she was straightening his room. Wasn’t that something any good wife would do? She ran her hand across the pillow, then lay down to rest her cheek upon it. It smelled clean and bracing and yes, it smelled of him. She breathed in and out, long and slow. Perhaps she would just lie here a minute and rest. He wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. What would it hurt, anyway? She was his wife after all.