A Year and a Day (36 page)

“I know that
you always told me that no girls were allowed there
,” Muira said, trying to lift the heavy mood, “But
I decided to  risk your wrath
.”
 

“Oh, Muira!” Ewan said, shaking his head, unable to laugh at the joke through the tears of frank relief.

“We stayed there all afternoon. The children were getting restless, so I tried to go back to the house…Oh, Ewan! It’s gone. Completely! They burnt it to the ground.” She started crying as the memories took their toll. “The groom saved nanny and the stable boy, but cook…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “And…and….”

“Cait?” Ewan asked, all of the blood draining from his face. He looked for his wife, “Where’s Cait?”

“I…” Muira bit her lip, unable to look at her brother’s face, “I was hoping that she was here.”

“She didn’t come with you?”

“I was hoping she was here!” Muira wrung her hands. Even the children were quiet as they watched the grown ups react to the news.  “It was so slow, travelling with the children. I thought…I
hoped
,” she corrected, “That she had come ahead, but…”

Ewan looked at his sister, urging her to continue, although Muira appeared reluctant. “But?”
 

“But…when I got to Brixby I heard from a man who’d been back to the farm. He…he
saw
her, Ewan.”

“And she’s-?”

“Dead.”
 

Ewan felt the words like a knife to the heart. For a moment he merely gaped in horror, but them his mouth began to move soundlessly. As he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard.  James and Muira rushed forward to
catch
him as if they expected him to stumble backwards, but he didn’t. He clutched desperately at the edge of the desk, willing his tears not to fall until he was finally alone.

“Ewan?” James asked anxiously.

“Tell the men to get ready to ride!” Ewan barked, hoping that a show of strength would clear the room, “It’s time we showed the English back to their own lands,” he growled. He wanted to hurt something- to
kill
something. Even then, he didn’t think that it would ever be enough to staunch the ache inside.
 

Cait was surprised at how quickly she became accustomed to life at Castle Frasure. The staff, like the
Laird
and Lady, were easy-going and cheerful. Soon enough, Cait had made friends among the other servants and seemed to have gained the special favour of Lady Frasure. It wasn’t many weeks before her single, borrowed dress from Anni was supplemented by a pretty muslin, and then she was given a summer gown to accommodate her growing waistline.

Lady Frasure was keenly interested in Cait’s past- so much so that she felt guilty denying her patroness knowledge, but Cait was still worried- or hopeful- that Ewan might be looking for her, and she couldn’t give away too many clues.

Apart from her memories, Cait was insulated from the outside world. She overheard that the fight between the English and the Camerons was still going on, but the general consensus among the Frasures seemed to be that they would do well to stay out of the fight. Cait pretended that she didn’t care- although, whenever there was a visitor to the castle, she spent as much free time as possible in the kitchens, listening for gossip.

Cait still thought about Ewan every day, especially in the evenings, when she was alone in her bed and their baby was restless.

It wasn’t more than a month at Castle Frasure before Cait’s body began to show the truth of her claims that she was carrying a child. Her abdomen began to swell, and she began to feel the gentle kicking and turning of the baby inside her womb.

It was all so bittersweet! She felt a wave of awe and love every time that the child made its presence known. Still, at the same time, it made her more keenly aware of Ewan’s absence. It made her think of how perfect it would all be if only Ewan was close by and could share in all the wondrous changes.

Apart from morning sickness, Cait was spared of most of the pregnancy ills. Her feet would swell occasionally, but her mistress was almost achingly considerate of her condition, forever giving Cait the easiest tasks, and often asking her to sit with her at sewing, or to read a book aloud.

For her part, Lady Frasure appeared over the moon with her acquisition of Cait. She clearly hadn’t expected that the girl’s claims of experience were true, and had been truly overwhelmed with delight to discover that, in addition to the traditional accomplis
hments at toilette and coiffure,
she was fluent in French and well-versed in literature and feminine arts.

Cait was happy that the lady didn’t ask where she had acquired these skills- the less that she said of her mother and her
transient girlhood, the better-
but they enjoyed one another’s company.

Things were as close to perfect as Cait thought she could expect, and so the time fled quickly. Spring turned to autumn, autumn into summer finally, the morning after the first frost, her baby decided to enter the world.

Ewan’s eyes snapped open. He peered around the room looking for the source of the disturbance, but found nothing. He tried to settle back down to sleep, but couldn’t get comfortable again. He didn’t know what had awoken him. There weren’t any intruders into his tent, and strange noises, or anything else unusual, merely a sense that something
important
was going on- though he couldn’t guess what that might be.

Groaning, he turned over in the bed and pulled his blankets tighter.  It was dreadfully cold, although he should have been used to discomfort. It was the middle of October now, and he’d been on the march for months, moving doggedly South despite discomfort.

He finally had the English on the run. Ewan took as much satisfaction from that fact as he was able to muster these days, now that the light had gone out of his life. It was six months since he’d lost Cait and any chance of happiness that he might have had. The only thing left was war, but even his rage against the English was beginning to fade as he was beaten down by endless despair.

Muira told him that he ou
ght to come back from the front;
that the Camerons needed him and that he ought to rest, but he wasn’t inclined to listen to his sister any more. He hadn’t forgiven her yet
for abandoning Cait
.

Ewan sighed, surrendering any hope of sleep as his mind returned to the horrible row that he’d had with his sister just before leaving
the castle
.

The shock of losing Cait hadn’t even begun to sink in. After feeding and bathing the children, Muira had found him again, sitting in his study, staring out the window, trying to imagine how his life could possibly go on.

“I’m so sorry,” Muira had said, crossing the room toward him. “I’m so sorry. I know how you feel. She was my greatest friend.”

Ewan had recoiled at her words. She couldn’t possibly know how he felt! Cait hadn’t just been his friend- she had been his
everything
! “At least I didn’t tell her,” Ewan blurted unexpectedly.

Muira frowned. “Didn’t tell her what?”
 

“What I had promised uncle to say. I didn’t tell her that it was over.”

Muira nodded her head, “I know.”

Ewan was silent for a moment, and then frowned, “You know? How do you know?”
 

“It doesn’t matter!” Muira said quickly, and tried to back away, but Ewan had pressed her. Her revelations made him sick.

Muira had told Cait the truth. She refused to tell him Cait’s reaction, but didn’t have to- he could see it in his sister’s face. Cait had been devastated,
betrayed
, and that was how she had died: doubting his love for her, and probably hating him with all her soul.

He’d lashed out. He hadn’t been able to help it, and he hadn’t been able to quell the rage and frustration that welled up inside of him. He was so full of hurt and regret that it had been a relief to go to war. For six months he had fought like the devil himself, dealing the English losses they had never expected. Now, however, he was growing weary. Perhaps it was time to give up and go home like his sister had suggested? They had pushed the English back down into
Glasgow
and, from all reports, they were headed home. He didn’t expect them to trifle with the Camerons or MacRaes in the near future. But what was left if he wasn’t fighting?

Duty
, returned the dreary answer: Duty to his clan as
Laird
. It was a duty that he dearly wanted to set aside. James was making spectacular progress, but he couldn’t bring himself to let it go. He had already sacrificed so much, what was a little more?

Thinking these thoughts, still not knowing what had awoken him, Ewan got up and started his day.

Cait had never felt such terrible pain. It felt like the cramps that came before her menses, only magnified a hundred times. That was what awo
ke her: a jagged, shearing pain. It
held her breathless until it passed.

Disoriented from slumber, Cait didn’t realize, at first, what the pain had been, but it repeated fifteen minutes later. When she sat up in the bed, she felt a wet, sticky trickle running down her leg.

Cait’s chest clenched with fear and excitement when she realized that the baby was finally on its way. She had listened to the castle midwife and to enough of the other mothers in the castle to know that it would still be hours yet before the baby came. She ought to try and get some rest- only she was too excited to go back to sleep. She got out of bed and changed her clothes- careful to wear her loosest and least favorite frock. Then she changed the sheet
s on her bed
.

No sooner had the bedding been changed, then she felt a second pain. It seemed to last longer than the first, causing Cait to sink to her knees before it was through. After that, she paced the hallways of the castle, marking the hours until her child arrived.

By midmorning, she had an audience: the midwife, Annie and Lady Frasure all arrived, each intent on keeping her company and offering advice until the delivery came.

By midafternoon, she had a baby.

Cait looked down at her son, weary but elated. The rest of the day had already gone hazy in her memory, making her feel as though she were still inhabiting a dream. Only the steady warmth and reassuring weight of the infant lying in her arms convinced her that the moment was real.

She had borne Ewan’s child- his
son
- the true heir to the Cameron
Laird
ship, she thought, almost overwhelmed by the very idea. He was so tiny and perfect! Cait lovingly ruffled the shock of dark brown hair that he already had on his head.

His eyes hadn’t remained open long enough for her to
catch
more than a glimpse, but they were a bright, vibrant blue. She didn’t doubt, given his parentage, that they would fade to green someday, but they were beautiful- the entire baby was
beautiful
, Cait thought, admitting that she had a bias. She was already desperately in love with her child- and not
just
because he looked like Ewan!

If she was honest, Cait would have to admit that t
he baby resembled herself more closely than her former husband. Lady Frasure commented on this when she came to view the castle’s latest addition. Tears sprang to her kindly old eyes as she took the boy out of his mother’s arms and inspected him.

“He looks just like…” she started, but let her voice trail off. “He’s your spitting image,” she finally said.

Cait could guess what Lady Frasure was thinking. Castle gossip had confirmed the story that Ewan had told her months before. Both of the
Laird
and Lady’s sons had been killed, leaving them childless in their old age. No doubt Isobel was remembering when she had become a mother for the first time herself.