A Year and a Day (17 page)

Cait listened to the little speech, and began to giggle. Ewan squashed her against his chest to stifle them. He didn’t appreciate the old woman’s meddling, of course, but Mrs. Fitzpatrick had been a second mother to him since his own had passed away.

“Er…thank you,” he called back, “Mrs. Cameron and I will be down directly.” He held Cait in place until the old woman’s footsteps had died away. Only when it was silent did he release her.

Cait was still shaking with mirth. “Oh, Ewan, you
have
been a naughty boy,” she teased.

“Oh, and was I alone?” he shot back.

Cait stuck out her tongue.

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep,” he warned her, causing Cait to open her eyes in mock-surprise.

“Oh, am I teasing?” she asked.

“Aren’t you?” Ewan retorted, clearly intrigued.

“Should I be?” she asked, and then tiptoed her fingers down his chest. She was just to his navel when she drew them away. “I suppose we aren’t allowed to stay here and be wicked.”

“Well, we’ll have to go somewhere else then,” Ewan said, his face suddenly bright again. Cait turned to him, clearly expecting an explanation, but all she got was an impish wink instead.

Ewan jumped out
of bed
, and then prodded Cait to follow him. “Come along then, Mrs. Cameron,” he said, “We haven’t got all day!”

Grumbling, but enjoying Ewan’s playful mood, Cait allowed herself to be prodded out of bed. By the time she mana
ged it, Ewan was already
donning a clean shirt. She wrapped the sheet around her body as she went to the dresser, where her fresh clothes had been put away and removed a new chemise.

After she had put on her undergarment and reached for her skirt and bodice she became less self-conscious. She let her eyes drift up at last and take in the sight of Ewan’s rippling muscles as he finished getting dressed and then started for the door.

She was disappointed that he didn’t wait, but followed after him only a few minutes later. She followed her nose (assuming, correctly, that was what Ewan would do) to the dining room and took a seat at her husband’s side.

There was a pot of tea on the table, and Cait helped herself. She frowned, however, when she saw the little tray of toast and fruit- and no sign of the hot bread and bacon that scented the air.

“Where’s breakfast?” she asked, just as Mrs. Fitzpatrick was bustling in with a pot of jam.

“You’ve
missed
breakfast!” she scolded, giving them both a very disapproving look, “And you were fit to miss lunch!”

Cait did her best to look contrite, but that aim was compli
ca
t
ed by Ewan’s wink. She quickly covered her mouth with a napkin as the housekeeper plunked the jam jar in the center of the table and then wheeled on Ewan.

He shot her a beaming smile as he snatched a triangle of toast, “Awww now, Auntie Bess, don’t you want a wee Cameron knocking about for you to scold
?” He took her hesitation as a “yes”
. “Well, where do you
expect the bairns to come from?
”
 

Bessie put her hands over her ears and shook her head, “Aye, and you expect me to believe it’s the bairns you were thinking of, Ewan Cameron? Me what tanned your hide for kissing the little MacDonald girl and making her cry when you were but a lad of nine yerself?” she muttered something else under her breath and shook her head. “It’s wickedness, that’s what it is.”
 

Cait frowned and looked to Ewan for understandi
ng, not quite
understanding the pious old woman’s objection.

“Auntie Bess doesn’t hold with the old ways,” Ewan explained. “She doesn’t think that our handfasting counts.”

“There’s only one way to get married,” the housekeeper clucked, “and that’s in a church, in front of God. Regardless of what he
thinks
Laird
Cameron is
not
the same thing.”

“Blasphemy!” Ewan said, clearly hoping to lighten the mood, but the old woman would have none of it.  She plucked up Ewan’s plate and teacup even though he wasn’t finished. He merely grinned, “Would you be a love, Bessie and pack up the hamper for us?
Mrs. Cameron
and I were planning on a picnic lunch.”

Cait sat silently observing the conversation, her skin pinking with a warm glow when she realized that
Mrs. Cameron
referred to her.

“Today?” Bessie sniffed, suspiciously. “It looks like rain!”

“Oh, hardly,” Ewan insisted, “Besides- we aren’t going to go far. I want to show Cait the grounds.”

Cait had seen them before, of course, but didn’t chime in.

Bessie muttered something else, something that sounded strangely like “It’s about time she saw something other than the bedroom” but Ewan let it slip. “I SUPPOSE I could,” Bessie finally said, and then shuffled back to the kitchen.

“So,” Ewan said, “Are you feeling up to a walk?”

In truth, Cait felt tired and sore from the journey, but the smile on Ewan’s face was infectious, “Of course,” she replied.

In only a few minutes more they were stepping out into the bright, November sunshine. A definite winter chill was in the air, but it was getting warmer. After walking for a few moments, trying to keep pace with Ewan, Cait didn’t pay any heed to the cold and let her bright tartan shawl hang more loosely about her shoulders.

“I want to show you the caves!” Ewan exclaimed, following the path of the river.

Cait beamed, “Oh! I remember those! You and James would never let Muira and I inside.”

Ewan stopped abruptly, turned to her, and then frowned.

“What is it?” Cait asked nervously.

“It’s…” Ewan looked sheepish, “I just keep forgetting that it was you.” When Cait gave him a quizzical look, he continued. “It doesn’t seem possible…”

“…that I was someone you could possibly grow up and marry?” Cait finished for him with forced levity. She was surprised when Ewan shook his head. “No, it isn’t that at all,” he assured her, “It’s…it’s just…” he reached for her face, cupping her chin and then tenderly stroking her cheek with his thumb, “I just don’t know how I failed to see it?”
 

Cait held her breath as she considered the impli
cat
ion of his words. He hadn’t
said that
he cared about her, of course- but hadn’t he at least implied that there was
something
about her that he admired? Whether it was the truth, or merely a cherished possibility, she didn’t want the moment to end. She stared up at Ewan, not even blinking as he continued to stare thoughtfully into her face.

I love him
, Cait had never doubted the sentiment, but likewise it had never struck her so powerfully before, almost like a physical blow.  Ewan’s eyes were locked with her own. In that instant, it was as if none of the other women mattered. They didn’t even exist because he made her feel like she was the only other person in the world.

Cait could have gone on like that for hours, but they were thwarted when, seemingly out of nowhere, a giant red dog bounded up and nearly knocked them both over.

“Red!” Ewan gasped, shocked and then smiling at the dog.

Cait grinned, “Original.”

Ewan shrugged, “I’m not very imaginative, I’m afraid.”

“Well, we
know
that’s a lie,” Cait responded, surprising even herself with the sultry tone of her voice. Something dark and steamy flashed in Ewan’s eyes, but it vanis
hed when “Red”, tired of being ignored
, jumped up onto his shoulders again.

“Oh, fine,
fine
,” he said, cuffing the dog playfully and sending him a few steps away, “I suppose you’ll want to be meeting Cait then. Red, Cait. Cait, Red.”

Cait giggled at the formal introduction. “I take it he’s yours?” Cait asked. There hadn’t been a dog when she’d come to Glen Mohr before. It hurt her a little that
anything
had changed. “I take it he’s yours?”

“God, no!” Ewan countered. “It’s James’s mongrel. Found it out in the countryside somewhere.”

“Ah,” Cait said knowingly, “What was her name?”

“The dog’s male,” Ewan corrected.

“I wasn’t asking about the dog!” Cait parried back, causing himself to giggle.

“Fair enough,” Ewan said, smiling as he shrugged.

“Runs in the family,” Cait said wryly.

“Intelligence and good looks?” he asked, slinging his arm casually around her shoulder and urging her further up the trail, “Or- wait, you
were
talking about James just then.”

“I meant the wenching,” she giggled, and only laughed harder at Ewan’s shocked face. “Oh, Ewan
- please. I cleaned your room! Y
ou can’t think I didn’t know.”

Ewan looked heartily embarrassed, and kept trudging forward and then spoke tightly, “It isn’t fit for a lady to talk about.”

“And I’m a lady?” Cait baited.

She expected Ewan to laugh, but his expression was thunderous. “You’re
my
wife!” he snapped, with a severity that made her blink.

Cait stared at him in astonishment for a moment, but finally found her voice again, “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I thought I was being funny.”

Ewan didn’t answer. Instead he turned back onto the path, no longer holding onto her arm. He bent to scoop up a stick, and then tossed it to Red, who went chasing after.

“Ewan!” Cait called, hurrying to keep up. Her heart was twisting in her chest. “Ewan, I’m sorry!” she said again, “Please don’t be angry!”

Finally he stopped walking and sighed. “I’m not angry, Cait,” he said in a weary tone. “I’m just…”

“Just?”
 

“Just…frustrated,” he groaned. “I wish that the past wasn’t keeping us apart.”

It isn’t!!!
Cait wanted to scream, needing to reassure him that, despite all of his intrigues and affairs she was more in love with him than she had ever been. But she sensed that it would be wiser to temper her enthusiasm. “Let’s pretend that we don’t have a past,” she blurted.

“What?” Ewan turned and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Let’s pretend that we
don’t
have a past,” Cait said urgently, willing to do almost anything to wipe away the annoyance in his eyes. “I mean- once we go back to the castle things will be different, of course…but for now…let’s pretend that I’m a lady that you met on one of your wonderful journeys.”

“I don’t make wonderful journeys,” Ewan snorted.

Cait sighed. “You aren’t even
trying
, Ewan!”

Finally, a grin broke through his uncharacteristically grim façade, “Fair enough…sorry- I warned you about the lack of imagination…but let’s try…my fabulous journeys.”

Cait smiled, feeling somewhat appeased. She approached him again, and slipped her hand into his. He didn’t try to stop her. “So, what are you going to show me?” she said, beginning gently again.

This time Ewan played along, answering that they were the caves that he and his brother had played in as boys
. He tugged her
arm
and led her further
along
the trail until they reached a broad, shallow ford of the river.

“Back there,” Ewan said, pointing through some reeds. He sat the picnic basket down, and then carefully hopped on a half-submerged series of stepping stones across the water. “Come on, Cait!” he called over his shoulder, “I want you to see them.”