A Year and a Day (29 page)

"Can we have a picnic by the lake?" Thomas asked.

"I want Uncle Ewan to
catc
h a fish!"
Duncan
added.

Cait was about to nod her head, when a low roll of thunder met her ears. She rushed to the window, and her heart plummeted when she recognized the sound.  "It's going to storm," she said anxiously. "We'll have to stay in the house."

A trio of dissappointed voices filled the room, but it was only a few minutes more before another crack of thunder shook the room, and the protests turned to squeals of of terror as the children looked anxiously to the window.

"It's allright, children," Cait said, concerned that they would start crying in earnest, "It's only a little bit of rain."

"Davie MacEantach said that thunder comes from English cannons," Thomas said, his voice so achingly sincere and terrified that Cait was glad to correct him.

"No, it isn't," she said firmly, "They say that cannon fire
does
sound like thunder sometimes, but this is just from the storm," she dropped a kiss onto the boy's head, "Your daddy and Uncle Ewan would never let the English get so close."

This quieted the brood temporarily. Several seconds passed before Maisie chimed in with a tiny, shaking voice, "Is daddy going to die?"

Cait didn't me
an to hesitate, but she couldn’
t help it. She looked automatically to Ewan, unsure of how to answer the question. Of course, she
hoped
that
Lachlan
wouldn't be hurt or killed, but there was no guarantee. If and when the English returned, the MacRae
Laird
would be in the thick of the fighting, and she felt that it would be somehow worse if she gave the children a false sense of security. "Your daddy isn't fighting right now," Cait finally muttered, hoping that this was answer enough.

It wasn't. "Davie MacEantach says..." Maisie started again. However, to Cait's relief, her uncle interjected:

"Davie MacEantach is a blind fool- like all of the MacEantachs!" he growled harshly. Ewan turned toward his niece and said very firmly. "Everyone has to die someday," he admitted, "But your dad is one of the best fighters that  I've ever seen. If anyone can lick the English, it's him.”

This answer seemed to go a lot further at quieting the children down. Maisie nodded her head and thoughtfully chewed her toast, while Thomas hefted his chin proudly. “Yeah! Daddy’s a great fighter!”

Cait shot Ewan a secretive smile. He stomach fluttered when he caught it and sent it back. He was a natural with children. She wished that she could make him see that-
that she could
force him to understand what a waste it was for him to give up the idea of children all together. It was so easy to picture him with a baby of
his
own! Her hand subconsciously moved to her stomach as she imagined a dark haired, light eyed little boy perched on Ewan’s knee, listening with rapt attention to stories about battles and travels and fairy tales, all dispensed with Ewan’s rich voice and twinkling eyes.

“…for
a while, don’t you think, Cait?.
.
.
Cait
?”

“Wh-what?” Cait blinked and looked up sharply at Ewan.

“I was saying that it would be okay for the children to go out to the barn for a while with
the groom.
They’ll stay dry enough,”
And it would keep them from grating on Cait’s nerves,
he thought to himself but didn’t say.

“Of course,” Cait said, nodding quickly. She glanced at the children’s clothing, assuring herself that none of them were wearing anything del
ica
t
e or likely to be ruined if it was soiled, and then sent them out, crowded under a cloak to keep the already steady rain from soaking them as they crossed the yard.

“There now,” Ewan said, stepping behind Cait and starting to massage her shoulders, “Peace and Quiet. That’s better, isn’t it?”
 

“I’m sorry that I volunteered to watch them, Ewan,” Cait blurted, anxious to apologize. She was confused by her husband’s answer:

“I know,” he whispered regretfully into her ear, “But I suppose that it couldn’t be helped. Muira would have finagled it some how if you’d said no.”

Cait nodded her head, relieved that he was being understanding.

“They have been rather trying this morning, haven’t they?” she said, hoping to remind him that, typically, his niece and nephews were joys and, upon occasion, utter darlings.

“Do you think so?” Ewan asked, still sounding odd. “Yes…I suppose they were…can’t blame them really though. I suppose it’s normal for them to be frightened.

“Yes! Exactly!” Cait said, grateful that he understood.

Cait nodded her head, and then silence fell between them. It took only a moment for the lull in conversation to become uncomfortable. Cait couldn’t think of what else to say, however, so she began bustling around the room, tidying up china and toys and the general detritus of breakfast.

“Don’t we have a maid for that?” Ewan asked, scrunching his nose. He positively
hated
when Cait fell instantly into her old habits. It was a
scath
ing re
minder that he had let her down;
that he hadn’t rescued her sooner from a life of poverty and toil to which she was so clearly unsuited.

“I…I suppose so,” Cait stammered uncomfortably. She set down the stack of dishes that she’d gathered. “Should I ring for her?”
 

“If you want.”

Silence reigned again. Cait bit her tongue to hold in a bitter sigh. It was almost comical that she couldn’t find any words. There was so much that she wanted to say! When she finally did manage to speak, it was not what she’d intended at all: “I suppose you’ll be headed into the village soon?”

Ewan looked up from where he had been toying with a teacup. “The village?”
 

“Aye…” Cait blushed, wondering how it was possible that the slightest direct eye contact with Ewan could reduce her to such a quivering wreck. “I thought you might have business there.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Ewan asked, his voice
just
light enough to let her know that he was teasing.

“You know I’m not,” Cait answered back, the colour in her cheeks deepening as his arms threaded around her shoulders, and a kiss was pressed against her neck. She exhaled sharply. “You know that I want you here with me.”

This time, the silence was owing to the fact that Ewan’s lips were very pleasantly otherwise engaged. They trailed over the tendon in her neck, sampling the deli
Cait
e skin where her throat met her collarbone. “The house is empty,” he whispered suggestively into her ear.

“But- the children!” Cait blurted, and Ewan laughed.

“They won’t be back until lunch,” he assured her. “I should have at
least
two and a half hours of my lovely wife all to myself…unless
you
have something else you need to do?” he frowned uncertainly.

“Of course not!” Cait blurted, setting his fears to rest. She shifted in her chair, unwittingly opening the rest of her face to a full-on assault from his lips.

It felt like years, rather than hours, since she had last been kissed. Cait opened like a flower to her husband’s touch, softening and leaning against him and inviting herself to be plundered. Ewan seemed only too willing to oblige. Keeping his mouth firmly pressed to hers, he guided her back toward the stairs.

“The children will be in the barn for at least an hour,” he breathed against her cheek her, upon reaching the steps, he was forced to pull away.

“You’re sure?” Cait asked breathlessly.

Ewan nodded, “I’m sure. I told
Liam
that his job depended on it.”

Cait smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder, debating whether or not she actually believed that Ewan had made arrangements with the horsemaster to assure a tryst. She couldn’t quite put it past him- and somehow that made him all the more endearing. “Well, we’d better hurry then,” Cait breathed back, “I’d hate to waste our precious time…not to mention the tragedy of putting a good man out of work.”

“Tragic,” Ewan nodded, not indi
ca
t
ing which comment he was referring to. Then, without warning, he scooped Cait up into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

Cait was giggling and flushed by the time they reached their room- a room which, unfortunately, shared a wall with the nursery, and had limited their nocturnal activities since their guests arrived. Now, however, the house was empty, save the servants toiling in the kitchens below, and Ewan took advantage of that fact, dropping Cait onto the bed without caring that the headboard knocked against the wall, or that her squeal of laughter and anticipation could be heard above the steadily increasing wind.

“I’ve wanted you so badly,” Ewan groaned, straightening Cait’s legs on the bed, and then reaching under her skirts to peel off her woollen stockings.

“I always want you,” Cait answered back,
she always had
, and felt a delicious shiver at the flare of lust which rose instantly in Ewan’s eyes. She met them with a coquettish smile, “What do you propose to do about it?”

Ewan cursed quietly under his breath, and then crawled over his wife, “Don’t tell me that you’ve already forgotten!” he said with mock sincerity. “The situation is far worse than I originally imagined.”

“
Desperate
,” Cait agreed, reaching for him, but Ewan intercepted her wrist. He bent it back toward his lips and planted a heavy kiss in the center of her palm.
“Ewan,” she purred quietly reaching back behind her body to clutch at his ribs. He squirmed out of her touch, but she could feel the heat on his skin growing, and hear the ragged
catch
of his breath, “I-,” she started, but didn’t finish, as she was interrupted by a tiny wail.

It took a moment to place then sound. When she did, she jerked away from her lover and sat up, “Ewan!”

Her husband cocked a brow, “Aye?” he said, feigning ignorance for as long as he could- which wouldn’t be much considering that the cries had already increased in pitch and volume.

“The baby!” Cait said, flinging her legs over the side of the bed. She hurriedly
arranged
her dress and started to the door.

“Foiled again,” Ewan said, sighing heavily. Cait shot him a regretful smile, but she didn’t stop as she rushed out the door of the bedroom and into the nursery.

She should have let him cry for a moment, she thought anxiously. The baby couldn’t be in any real distress, Muira had fed him thoroughly in the morning before she left, and a damp nappy wouldn’t hurt him for an hour- but she had been physically unable to control her feet. Some new instinct, perhaps awakened by the prospect of a child of her own, had completely smothered her personal concerns and sent her straight to the baby, not allowing her to stop until she had plucked the tiny infant up out of his crib.

Little Ewan
Graem
MacRae’s cries lessened, but persisted when Cait lifted him into her arms. She jostled his little body for a moment and, when that failed, checked his nappie.

It was dry- which left him either hungry or bored. She hoped that it wasn’t the former. Muira had arranged for a wet nurse to come, but she might have been delayed by the rain and, in any event, wasn’t expected before noon.  Feeling slightly panicked- she didn’t know how long big Ewan’s temper would withstand the crying- she cradled the baby against her own chest and began to hum a quiet lullabye.

Finally, something worked. After only a moment of singing and rocking the child, he began to settle down. Soon his voice was reduced to a quiet whimper and then, finally, his bright blue eyes began to close.