A Year and a Day (2 page)

Of course, she kn
ew that there was no hope in all her daydreams.
For one thing, she was far from the only woman in the clan who had noticed Ewan’s appeal. He was the nephew of the
Laird
, and a respected captain on his own. Cait was only an impoverished orphan, who couldn’t possibly aspire to such an exalted match. When they were younger, it hadn’t seemed to matter so much. They had flirted. Her heart had thrilled to each wink and every whisper that he addressed to her. She’d almost believed that she was wanted- but of course, it had all came
to
naught. Ewan concentrated on fighting, and Cait concentrated on work. That was simply how things were.

When Muira left Castle Cameron
,
Cait’s status had immediately dropped. Deprived of the position of “companion” there was nowhere to go but down. She’d ended as a chamber maid. Although it was degrading, it was bearable because of him.

Every afternoon, when all of her other tasks were done, Cait
went
to tidy Ewan’s room. Sometimes, he was there. Those were the most cherished moments of her day. In his chamber, she saw the Ewan that the lasses making eyes at supper, and the married ladies fishing for trouble, couldn’t imagine existed beneath the surface of his handsome skin. He told her about the battles he’d been
in
and
about
the castles that he’d seen. Cait told him about the cities in the South- about opera and theater, bustling street markets
and other things
that he’d only read about in books. He always seemed pleased to see her. Sometimes s
he had the impression that he had lingered in his room on purpose, waiting
for her to come. Those feelings, whether or not they were even true, were enough. She knew
that Ewan would never love her, but
there no rule against loving him back!

The second time that Ewan awoke, his mind was clearer. The room around him was dark, but he recognized it as his own. He also recognized the woman asleep beside him in a chair.
Cait
he thought,
and a
surge of warmth rushed through his heart. Sweet, loyal Cait- the
maid
who scrubbed his room…only, she was more than that as well. Ewan wasn’t sure how he would classify his relationship with the girl

Not really a girl now
,
he thought, taking advantage of her slumber to study her face. She
had to be twenty-five at least. She was well
past her
maiden bloom but was
still far too lovely to be the old maid that she’d become. It was a pity, he thought, that she hadn’t had a family of her own. He’d expected
some
man in the castle to snap her up- for her brains and industry if not
her
beauty- but none of
the lads had tried to court her
.

That
was a shame
, he thought privately, and then remembered that he had very little room to talk.
He
was still a bachelor
at thirty
- although, not for
a
want of
potential partners
. Plenty of ladies in the castle had campaigned for that position- but none had caught his eye. He hadn’t considered their appeals before, but suddenly something had changed.

Ewan was mostly a man of action, but still devoted hours to daydreams and critical thought.
Lying
in his bed, unable to move, the specter of his own mortality
loomed
large.

Ewan had been wounded in battle
before
, but never
so badly that he
thought he might die. As he’d faded into unconsciousness, his last thought hadn’t been for his soul. It had been for his child - his son who didn’t yet exist.

Ewan had always intended to get married- but with the same sort of urgency he felt when contemplating death itself. He knew that it would happen
someday
, and he wasn’t precisely afraid, but he wanted to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Now he saw his mistake. He might never have left the pass. If he had
n’t
, then there would have been nothing left- no Cameron to carry on his name and to mourn him when he was gone. Lying in the soft dirt, expecting death’s embrace, it had seemed a terrible waste. He’d been given a second chance, and he wasn’t going to wa
ste
it. He wanted to be a father before the year was out.

The only problem was finding a mother.

It might not be so easy.

Ewan didn’t doubt his personal appeal. If anything, he was a wee bit vain, but that didn’t mean prospects for the immediate future were good. He hadn’t spoken with a healer, and he was no great judge of wounds, but the fact that he
still
couldn’t wriggle his limbs without a shooting pain did not bode well. He could be laid up for weeks. That meant his only female visitor was likely to be hi
s aunt- or his sister and his niece
if they dared the trip from Castle MacRae.

Ewan snorted in annoyance
. The action
had the effect of rousing his nurse. He watched from the corner of his eyes as she blinked several times, and then yawned and stretched her arms. It was nearly half a minute before she noticed his stare. She immediately dropped her arms and her cheeks took on a fetching flush.

“You’re awake again,” she murmured, her voice husky and thick with sleep. The sound had a very curious effect on his body, which somehow
felt
the words like a physical touch. “Are you hungry?”
Cait
continued, half-yawning again. “You’ve been three days without food.”

Ewan stared at her and didn’t answer. A thought had just entered his mind.
Cait
could have his baby! It wasn’t as if she had any other prospects waiting in line. She was pretty and she was pleasant and had hips wide enough to bear a healthy son. His lips turned up on the ends when he realized the perfection of his plan. Ca
i
t had been there all along!

“Ewan, are you hungry?”
Cait
repeated when he still didn’t answer at all.

Forcing himself back to attention, he quickly bobbed his head.

“I’ll just pop round to the kitchens then,” she announced and then stood to go. “I’ll fetch some broth. Can I do anything else?”

“Yes,” Ewan answered brightly, “As a matter of fact you can.”

“Oh?”
Cait
paused in the doorway and turned around, “And what is that?”

“Cait,” he said slowly, carefully watching her face,
“I’d like you to have my child.

Cait forgot how to breathe. She stood stock still, staring at her master, waiting for him to laugh and declare his request a joke
. She didn’t know how to react when
he didn’t. The awful silence that followed his rema
rk stretched out painfully. Her skin began to tingle and
flush as she replayed the question in her mind. She’d daydreamed of hearing
Ewan
say those words since she was all of fourteen years old- but never anything like this!

“
What?
” she finally choked out, but added before he could answer, “Ewan Cameron- you’ve been hit on the head!”

She reached for the cool cloth that she’d left on his
brow
, intending to take it and go. Ewan caught her wrist. Obviously, he’d regained a bit of his strength- or else adrenaline was carrying him
forward
. His long, thick fingers closed tightly around her wrist. Despite her embarrassed fury, they left five aching points of heat where they touched her skin.

“Hear me out!” he begged, still holding her fingers tight. Injured as he was, she could have easily escaped his grip. However
, despite his raving
, she was curious
about
what he had to say.

Cait
sighed heavily, emphasizing her displeasure, and then she settled down onto the edge of the bed. “Tell me
then
C
aptain Ca
meron, what’s got you so broody?
”

She said the words
lightly;
still half-hoping that he’d spoken in jest. She hadn’t expected a serious answer. She received one, however: “Cait- I almost died!”

Cait bit her lip. That much was definitely true. She recalled the scene at the castle three days
earlier
when the first of the bodies had been brought home. It was Donaid, the
Laird
’s oldest boy. He’d bee
n carried back by his own horse,
his lifeless body tangled in the reigns. The alarm had gone up from the gates, and the
n
spread through the castle like brushfire. She didn’t think that she’d ever forget the wail from Lady Cameron’s lips when she saw her firstborn son.

A search party went out for the others. They found Jamie easily enough, still tarrying at a crofter’s cottage. At some point in the night he’d separated from the others to stay and trifle with
a
farmer’s daughter, completely oblivious to his kinsmen’s fate. Hamish had been brought home next in the back of a wagon with two of the other boys. Cait had spent a sleepless night wondering if Ewan
was
gone forever
- but they’d finally found him. He’d rolled out of the street and into a clump of bushes. It was probably the cover that had saved his life. The attackers hadn’t seen him, and had hurried on their way, and so he’d been brought back home
battered but still alive
.

He’d looked so close to death. Cait’s heart had nearly broken when she saw him first. The weight of her regrets had been enough to squash it flat. She wished so desperately that she’d told him how she felt- that she loved him- even if it only made him laugh. Although she discovered that his mirth was not so desirable an emotion, now that he was awake.

“Cait?” Ewan
said and then
nudged
her arm
, dragging her back from her daydreams.

She blinked and focused once more on his face. “So, you want me to have your baby then, do you? Just like that?” she spat, amazed when her voice sounded even.

“Well, you’ve not many other prospects, have you?” Ewan said in a disgustingly reasonable tone.

Cait’s temper flared. Being insulted was one thing- Ewan
was
very sick- but being treated as though she ought to be
pleased
about it was something else. “No other prospects but to lie on my back?”

Ewan looked momentarily stunned- whether it was in surprise at her outburst or finally realizing what he’d said she wasn’t sure. In either case he sputtered quickly, “Cait! Oh, Cait! That’s not what I meant at all!”

“What
did
you mean?” Cait demanded. What
could
he mean, after all? Her heart soared and then twisted when he spoke again.

“I’ll make you a fair offer, mind,” Ewan said, his own cheeks flushing a bit- making him look healthier than he had in days.

Cait caught her breath again. Ewan
wasn’t
asking her to marry him!

As if he had read her mind, her patient spoke quickly, “Of course, I’m not proposing to tie you down for life!”

A pang sliced through her chest, but Cait managed to hold her composure. She pressed her lips downward into a grim line and then demanded, “What is it you are
suggest
ing then, Ewan
Cameron
?”
 

He took a breath, looking suddenly nervous, “A handfasting,” he rep
lied. “We’ll do it the old way:
a marriage for a year and a day. You give me a baby and I’ll see that you’re both looked after.”

Tears pricked at the back of Cait’s eyes at how eager he was to
assure her that he didn’t mean
to be bound for a second longer than custom required.