A Year and a Day (15 page)

He would have to accept, of course. Even if he didn’t want to be
Laird
- and what man didn’t secretly crave status and power?- there was no other choice for the good of the family. After Ewan, the task would fall to James- still too immature and unbloodied to assume the role. He could be
Laird
, but not a strong one. Ewan did not forsee the clan following his little brother’s commands for long. That would leave James open to uprising and dissent, especially among the lesser septs. Surely
Laird
Cameron would see this too? Which meant that the
Laird
ship would pass outside the core family…but to who? One of the MacEeantachs? Ewan’s flesh crawled at the thought, but he couldn’t dismiss the idea. The MacEantachs had more money and rents than anyone else. If they were denied, they could make the life of
whoever
was
chosen short and hellish.

No, it would have to be him.

Ewan felt as if a huge weight had just been laid across his shoulders. It must have shown in his posture, because he felt Cait’s hands twine around his waist. “I’m here,” she whispered quietly.
I always will be
… She didn’t speak the words aloud, but he thought that he heard them inside his head…and he wondered why that should be.

Sighing heavily, Ewan twisted back toward Cait and accepted her embrace. She was so tiny, her head didn’t reach his shoulder, and so he cradled her against his chest- although he was the one receiving comfort. He waited for her to press for more information, or to try to trick him into conversation, but she didn’t. Seemingly instinctively she knew that he needed quiet time to think.

There was so much to consider! As if a boulder had fallen out of the sky and landed in his path Ewan suddenly understood that his life of carefree carousing was at an end. It was time for him to take responsibility- not only of the clan, but of himself…but where was he meant to start?
  At that precise moment, Cait’s head came to rest against his shoulder. Her little body tucked against him felt so warm and real. When she tightened her arms around his waist, he clung back, holding on to her as if she were an anchor in a stormy sea. Perhaps she was? Ewan pulled back a little to stare down at her beautiful face. He had chosen Cait the way that he chose all of his women: rashly and impulsively. He had decided on a whim to have a child and had settled on Cait as that child’s mother with the same slight degree of consideration. He had been drawn to her because she was pretty and friendly, of course, but he also had to admit it was at least a bit because she didn’t have anyone to stop him when he decided that he wanted to leave her behind. He had planned for his own irresponsible behavior- and that had to end. Why not with Cait?

Muira
had challenged him to consider Cait as a real wife. Perhaps he should give it a try? The past few days in her company certainly hadn’t been difficult. She was more than he’d hoped for: both in the bedroom and out of it. There was another role that she could fill. If he was to become
Laird
, he needed a wife as well as a son. Muira had a castle of her own to tend to, and he didn’t have any other sisters or female cousins. There needed to be a Lady Cameron to see to day to day affairs of the household and the personal affairs of the clan. Could that woman be Cait?
 

It was laughable at first: Cait was half-English, and a servant! But she had always been accepted by the Cameron clan, her position as servant was secondary to her position as companion to the
Laird
’s wife and niece in Ewan’s mind. Perhaps most important of all, he’d already more or less hired her for the role. It wouldn’t do to have a child with Cait, and then go and marry someone else
. Perhaps
he and Cait
shouldn’t
have a child until things were sorted out.

Muira’s maid had brought Cait the new gown and then stayed to help her dress. Cait tried to fuss with the laces and hooks of the gown, but the maid, Liane, kept making frustrated sighs until Cait took the hint and simply sat still with her hands neatly folded on her lap.

The dress was very pretty, and almost new. Cait felt very satisfied with her appearance when Liane pronounced her ready and she stood in front of the mirror to look.

The deep green velvet was the color of a forest glade in high summer after the rain. It was much deeper than Cait’s eyes, but enhanced them, making them stand out like two bright pieces of jade. The dark hue also showcased her complexion. It looked almost bone white at her cleavage, neck and arms, and the green was a lovely compliment to her dark brown hair.

As a final touch, she wore her only piece of jewelry- a signet ring on a slender golden chain. It had been her mother’s- the only piece of her old life in the highlands that she was able to keep. Although they had been hungry and turned out of their lodgings more than once, she refused to sell it. Cait liked to imagine that it had something to do with her father. Despite his Englishness (and all that her mother had put her through over the years) Cait liked to imagine that her parents had shared a grand love story. The necklace was her greatest treasure, and she was glad to wear it on this night.

The scene in the dining hall was even worse than she had imagined. Everyone in the entire household- and much of the town, it seemed- had come to the dinner. No doubt they had relied upon the flimsiest pretense of business with the
Laird
to prevail upon him for supper and gain a chance to gawk at Ewan Cameron’s “wife.”

“…isn’t very…” “servant! She’s….” “…prettier than…” Little snippets of conversations reached Cait’s ears, but she refused to turn her head. Ewan must have heard them too- and she was
mortified
by that fact, but he didn’t show it He simply held her hand tightly and hurried toward the main table.

Ewan hadn’t been to call on the
Laird
after all. Business (no doubt with the tradesmen now in attendance) had detained the old man, and so Ewan had stayed with Cait until time to eat. Old Cameron was sat already in his traditional place. Lady Cameron was on the other side, with Muira filling in one of the spaces where one of her cousins should have been. Cait would fill the other.

They filed into their seats, and then the old
Laird
indi
cat
ed that the feast should begin. The servants streamed out of the kitchens with platters and bowls, taking the finest to the head table and the rest fanning out through the crowds.

Cait watched with morbid interest as the girls who, only a week earlier she’d been scrubbing dishes with laborer to tote their heavy loads and keep up with the demands of the boisterous diners. She still felt like she should be with them, and quickly diverted her eyes whenever one of them looked at the head table- especially when it came her turn to be served.

“Sarah” was the name of the squat, beefy-armed girl who offered Cait a selection of meats and vegetables. Their eyes met for only a second, and the new Mrs. Cameron was chilled to the bone by the contempt that she saw lurking in the other
girl’s
dull brown eyes. Cait thought she could read the
woman’s thoughts
: that Cait was fooling no one. She didn’t belong at the head table- and she had only gotten there by lying flat on her back.

“…don’t you think, Cait?”

Muira’s voice caused Cait to look up again. Her eyes widened anxiously when she realized that she had no idea what her friend had just said.

“I
said
,” Muira repeated patiently, “That since my brother didn’t see fit to give you a proper wedding, he might as well give you a proper honeymoon.”

Cait blinked, “A honeymoon.”
 

“A trip away from the castle,” Muira explained, “
Home
.”

“Home?” Cait asked, but instantly knew what Muira was talking about. A few times while they were girls they had summered at Muira’s father’s Manor. The house was little more than a grandiose cottage, but they’d had happy memories there. Cait’s heart surged at the thought of escaping from the castle for a while- but then she remembered that Ewan couldn’t possibly neglect his duties- not with things so tense. “We couldn’t,” Cait said regretfully, and then looked to Ewan, and passed him to the
Laird
. She was s
urprised to find the old man nod
in agreement.

“It might be best,” he said, shooting his war chieftain a curious look. “I have a feeling we’re going to need you soon. If
Laird
MacRae doesn’t return…”

“
Soon,
” Muira said, looking faintly ill, “If he doesn’t return
soon
…”

“Of course,” the old man shot his niece a reassuring glance. “I meant, if we don’t hear from
Lachlan
soon, chances are that we’ll want to muster the clansmen. The eastern border is the most protected- so it would be better to start drafting there. If I need you, you’re only a day away and you can get started without delay.

Muira frowned. Part of it was, no doubt, attributable to concern for her spouse. The other part was frustration at having her plan so neatly thwarted. Cait had known her friend long enough to practically hear the gears whirring in her head. She’d meant for
Ewan
and Cait to have a romantic getaway- not race away on castle business.

Ewan looked between his
Laird
, his sister, and his wife. All three wanted the same thing- although for different reasons, and so there was really no decision to make. He would have preferred remaining at the castle and being the first to know when
Lachlan
and his
men
returned
- or word came for certain that they wouldn’t- but there was wisdom in the
Laird
’s plan. The clansmen on the border shared with the Frasures were softer, peaceful men than those who’d been raised in the shadow of the MacRaes. It would require more effort to rouse them for battle, and they would be essential if it turned out that the clan was facing a formidable foe.

“It could be done,” he said slowly, and then watched the three very different looks unfold on the faces of his audience:  Triumph on Muira, approval on the face of the
Laird
, and on Cait…Ewan squinted, not quite able to read the trembling little smile that flashed intermittently on her face along with an expression of worried indecision.

“You may leave tomorrow then,” the
Laird
said. “If we haven’t heard back from
Laird
MacRae and his party by then, I’ll send another scouting party out. The soonest they would be back is a week. If there’s trouble I’ll send word and you can raise the clan.”

The evening wore on slowly. Ewan was anxious to get away. For once, it was his mind and not his body that was restless. It was spinning with troubling thoughts about the clan, and his future and where his brother-in-law was. There was a
ceilidh
after the feasting, and rousing calls that Ewan and his temporary bride should join in the raucous dancing and story-telling, but he claimed a headache and slipped away to bed while Cait was talking with his sister.  Back in their room, he stood by the window, staring out into the night, and didn’t hear when she returned.

“It’s freezing,” Cait’s voice caused Ewan to start, but not to turn. He listened to the light patter of her footsteps on the stone floor and acknowledged her only when he felt a blanket being pressed around his body. “The fire’s almost out. You’ll
cat
ch a cold.”

“I can take care of myself!” Ewan snarled in response, and he was surprised when Cait didn’t back down.

“Then do it!”
she retorted, “You won’t be any
use to the
Laird
with a cold!”

Ewan’s shoulders sagged in acknowledgment when he realized that she was correct. Turning away from the window he walked to the fire, put another log on, and then poked it thoughtfully until it was roaring again.

“I’m sorry!” Cait blurted, finally shocking him out of his reverie. He frowned and turned, “Whatever for?”
 

“For…for…the…trip,” she said, hesitating as if she had meant to call the journey something else.

“It was Muira who suggested it.”

“Yes, but…” Cait bit her lip nervously, and then continued, “You can leave me behind.”