A Year and a Day (16 page)

“That would defeat the point, I think,” Ewan said, finally chuckling when he saw what a state she was in. The
Laird
was right- he could do more good on the Eastern border than staying at the castle…and there were other “duties” of being the future
Laird
that he needed to attend to.

“Not really,” Cait insisted, “If you’re out gathering up soldiers, then you-” She was silenced by Ewan’s lips descending over her own.

“That’s enough talk,” he purred into her ear…and they had other things to do than speak.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. The heavy rains had knocked most of the leaves off the trees, so that the approach of winter was truly clear. The roads were muddy, but frozen, so that the carriage that the
Laird
offered made snail-like progress down the road.

Cait felt a pang of guilt every time that one of the carriage’s massive wooden wheels lodged in a rut. If only she knew how to ride a horse! The journey would be half as long- but, of course, there had been no opportunity for her to learn. As a young girl, drifting from place to place with her mother there had been no money or space to board a horse. As an older girl there was never any time. While Muira was out having riding lessons, Cait was tidying up the room where they had lessons and played.

Ewan hadn’t complained- at least, not that she could hear. He was riding alone on his black charger and, for most of the journey, had been 20 minutes ahead, ostensibly to scout their lodgings for the night, but Cait suspected it was because the constant delays of the carriage were unbearable.

He hadn’t offered to ride with her- a fact that piqued her. He had pointed out that, should there be a call to raise the army, he would need to have his horse along, and since the beast was unsuitable to form part of the team, there was no real choice other than to ride along, or to bring an extra groom. Still feeling certain that he didn’t really want to go at all, Cait had held her tongue and simply gone along with the plan.

The journey was uncomfortable, but nothing more than she’d expected. Cait had made the journey to Glen Mohr a handful of times as a girl and knew what to expect. For the first half of the first day they picked their way carefully down the mountain that the castle was sat upon, and then spent the rest of the evening climbing back up
the next peak
.

They spent the night in a crofter’s cottage. There were no inns so far into the clan lands, and it wasn’t suitable to sleep on the ground. She felt awkward displacing the farmer and his wife at the cottage where they came to rest, but there was nothing else to do. Besides, the red-haired, bright eyed man and his portly, industrious wife seemed honored to have the chieftain “and his wee bonnie wife” to grace their humble abode.

The second day was grueling- more climbing, this time all day. The track that led to the mountain could only barely pass for a road. It was sunset before they reached the crest of Ben Murtaugh and saw the lovely valley stretching out below. They would have to press on for a while in darkness- there was no place to stop, but here in the very heart of Cameron country there was less fear of something untoward going on at night.

The stars were very bright in the sky when the carriage finally rumbled to a stop at a tiny, one-room cabin half-way down the mountain. The farmer within, having been alerted to the chieftain’s arrival, had decamped to the barn with his large family. This time Cait was too exhausted to mind. She took a few token bites of the stew she was offered, and then gratefully sank into bed.

There had been low clouds the night before, and Ewan was worried about rain, but the third day dawned as brightly beautiful as the other two. Cait paused on her way to the carriage, taking in the magnificent sweep of the highlands and of the river valley below.

“There it is!”

Cait turned toward her husband, greedily drinking in his appearance and savoring the few moments that she would be permitted to spend with him that day. “What?”

“Glen Mohr,” he said, pointing toward the valley. Cait followed the gesture, and she was pleased when she picked out the slate-roofed cottage on the riverbanks.

She watched his face as he spoke, smiling at the way that light seemed to spark
le
in his eyes as he looked down at his boyhood home. Cait didn’t know too much about the history of the property, apart from the fact that it had belonged to his mother, Cora Frasure. The prime scrap of land hugged the very edge of Cameron holdings but, owing to four decades of peace with their eastern neighbors, was one of the most secure in the clanlands as well as the most picturesque.

“I was hoping you’d see it like this,” Ewan said, his features animated as he gazed adoringly at his home.

Cait smiled softly, and didn’t bother pointing out that, of course, she
had
seen it like this. Ewan didn’t seem to connect the woman who was his wife with the young girl that she had been- and she wasn’t certain that she wanted to remind him. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Do you see that there?” Ewan’s strong arm swept in an arch, approximating the curve of the river, “That’s the valley field. It floods as often as not- but the years it doesn’t…” he made an appreciative sound, “the crops grow
as high
as my shoulder, from soil so black you look down and think it’s night!”
 

Cait’s smile broadened as he warmed to his topic, listing all the delicious-sounding grains and vegetables that they grew. She had never pictured Ewan as a farmer. It was a comical, yet endearing, idea. Without thinking about it she reached for his forearm and squeezed it lightl
y, then beamed when Ewan reciprocat
ed the touch.

“Our lands go all the way to the foot of the mountain,” he told her, reaching up with one of his hands to stroke her hair, “James has a piece up the way- not that he minds at all,” Ewan chuckled, “He’s not interested in anything that doesn’t wear a dress…or at least come out of one easily,” he joked, and then seemed to remember himself. He apologized quickly. “Sorry, Cait. I-“

She shook her head dismissively. “It’s nothing,” she giggled. Having known James for most of his life, she found the description apt.

Ewan smiled, “Well, I don’t dare to guess how many times James’s plot is going to be divided, but I reckon ours has room for three- maybe four fair sized farms…”
 

He was still beaming, but Cait’s smile abruptly faltered.
Three or four farms
?  Ewan’s statement implied his expectation of a house full of children- underscoring the fact that she had been contracted to provide only one.

“Is something wrong, Cait?” He said, studying her critically.

She shook her head and tried to force the smile back onto her face, “I’m just…cold,” she told him, “And tired of traveling.”

To her relief, he accepted the explanation. “Aye, I can’t blame you for that. Well, don’t worry, Beauty. I’ll have you at Glen Mohr by supper, I promise,” he said, and then he kissed her on the cheek.

For once, Ewan was able to keep his promise. The sun hadn’t quite touched the horizon when they pulled up in front of the small stone house.

Ewan had arrived a few minutes earlier, and he was waiting on the front porch step to hand Cait down from the cottage when she finally arrived. She fell gratefully into his arms, relieved to be stretching her limbs after such a long, cold, jostling ride.

“You’re like ice!” Ewan murmured, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist. Cait didn’t argue. Frankly
, she
was grateful for any excuse to linger in his strong embrace. He held her a moment more, but finally let her go and pushed her toward the door. “Supper’s waiting,” he explained, “I’ll have to show you around in the morning. For now it’s dinner and bed.”

The house looked more or less as Cait remembered from days gone by. It had never been grand, like the houses in
England
that she had known, but was spacious and cozy in a way that they had never quite been able to recapture. The ceilings were low and thick, keeping the rooms nicely snug. She shed her cloak and then walked by memory into the dining room while breathing in the delicious smell of a hearty country meal.

The broad oak dining table was empty, however. A much smaller table, probably brought in from the kitchen, had been sat by the fire laden with food for two.

Cait flushed happily when Ewan held out her chair. She waited until he was seated too before she sipped the glass of wine beside her plate and began to eat. The food was simple, but exquisite.

“Hannah’s a fine cook!” Ewan enthused. Cait nodded in agreement. Cheered by the delicious meal, warm fire and satisfaction of a journey’s end, they fell into easy conversation, continuing after dinner until Ewan announced that it was time for bed.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Ewan announced, causing Cait’s heart to plummet again.

“But-?” she started to ask why
her
room wasn’t his as well, but she swallowed the question when he stopped at a door that she knew to be Ewan’s own. He had simply misspoke.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable,” he said, his voice soft and husky against her ear as he crowded her into the room.

“And if I’m not?” she couldn’t resist teasing him.

Ewan chuckled, “We’ll think of something to make you more comfortable then,” he whispered back.

The next morning, Ewan was awoken by the sound of a rooster in the barnyard below the window at just past dawn. Cait remained asleep. Watching her peaceful features and even breathing he smiled to himself and wondered if there was
anything
that she couldn’t sleep through.

Ewan carefully rolled Cait onto her back,
and
traced her cheek with his finger, wondering at the way she didn’t even flinch. He flattered himself that he had worn her out, but then a frown marred his face when he considered that, perhaps, she was still weary from all the work she’d done before becoming his wife.

That
was definitely over, Ewan decided. Regardless of how things worked out, and whether she ultimately remained his wife, he couldn’t stomach the idea of sending Cait back to the kitchens. His sister had pointed out that he would need someone to actually
care
for the baby after it was born, and he couldn’t think of any reason why it shouldn’t be Cait. He’d still be able to have a proper influence in his child’s- his
son’s
- life, and it would give him an excuse to make sure that she was well taken care of. He could install the pair of them in a cozy little cottage, somewhere away from the castle gossips…perhaps even at Glen Mohr?

“You look rather pensive.”

The soft, clipped English drawl of Cait’s voice caused Ewan to turn his head. He looked down at her. Instantly, his lips curved into a smile.

Cait was so heartbreakingly beautiful. How had he possibly failed to notice, over the long decades of their acquaintance, how exquisite she was? How was it even imaginable that no other man in the castle had snapped her up while he was drifting along, utterly oblivious?

He decided not to question his blessings. Instead, he gave her a broad smile and a kiss on the center of her mouth. “Are you surprised it’s possible?” he teased.

“A bit,” she answered back, and then yawned.

She was still recovering from the effects of sleep. Her lids were half closed, and her pupils
were
so wide that her eyes seemed almost black. There was a charming fuzziness to her smile, inspiring Ewan to give her another, much more thorough kiss.

“Mmmmmm…” Cait murmured drowsily, “What was that for?”
 

“Do I need a reason?” Ewan said, kissing her again, this time in the curve between her neck and shoulder.

He would have kissed her again, but there
was a timid lock on the door. “Who is it?” Ewan grunted, annoyance painting his face.

“It’s Bessie,” the familiar voice of Glen Mohr’s old housekeeper called back, “Come to tell you that you’ve been married for more than a week and it isn’t Christian to lie abed all morning.”