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“You’ll eat first, lass. You must eat. You must feed the babe as well as yourself.”
“Yes, I’ll eat. When I wake up, perhaps. I promise I will.”
Henna stood reluctantly, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Okay, then. I’ll leave ya to rest.”
She went back out into the corridor. No, that wasn’t how she’d expected it to go at all. Something wasn’t right. Something was amiss. She felt it in her bones. She knew it in her heart.
* * * * *
Cait lay back on the bed, appalled beyond belief. She had thought the beatings were the worst part, the pain and fear, the ever present threat, but no. No, this was the worst part. Beyond all things on earth, this was the worst.
She was carrying a child at long last, and it wasn’t her husband’s. It wasn’t half-Cait, half-Duncan at all. It was half Cait and half Devil, the true Devil, the abominable, beastly old earl. How could it happen? How could her husband love her, seed her for so many months, and only now, in the last two weeks of violence and rape at the earl’s hands, had seed finally taken root? How could it be? She wanted to cry bitter tears. It was so unfair, so against reason she couldn’t get past the disbelief to give her grief voice.
She lay still, staring off into nothingness. What would she do? It would have to be kept secret. She would have to let Duncan believe he’d fathered it. But she...she would always know. She would have to live this lie, Lord Douglas’s lies and secrets forever, even after the horrible old man ceased to live. Perhaps he would outlive her. Perhaps she would die bearing his child. It would satisfy him greatly to cause her death. How could she love such a baby, a baby begotten in misery? A bastard, she thought suddenly, just like her, just like Duncan. A bastard for a bastard, her father had scoffed once. They will understand each other, will they not?
No, she couldn’t hate the baby, she wouldn’t. It was not the baby’s fault, and she couldn’t let the child grow up alone and unwanted as she’d been. But the world, Cait realized now, was a horrid, awful place, a place she didn’t want, a place she’d never belonged, a place she never would belong. She could no longer believe that life would bring anything but pain and grief.
She sat up at long last and checked beneath her garments. The welts and scabbed marks were still there. It had been over two weeks. He might return now, any moment, and he would want to see her in his bedroom. He would expect her to disrobe for him and make love with him as if nothing was amiss, as if she wasn’t pregnant with the old earl’s child and covered all over in the marks of his violence and hate. She thought suddenly, against all reason, that she didn’t want Duncan to come.
She had thought, when he arrived, she would be safe at least a little while, that her mind would be at peace at least for a time. Now her peace was gone forever. How could she keep secrets from him? He would look at her and know. What if he found out? What would he do? Lord Douglas would find a way to blame her. It was too terrible a thought. She must hide it all, the baby, the marks, the secrets and lies.
At last, defeated, she slept and dreamed of horrible, nightmarish things.
* * * * *
Duncan rode ahead of the men. He was so close to home, it was impossible not to put his heels to his horse and run the rest of the way. He was so close, so close to his wife. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.
He thought he would kill her from the weight of his unsatisfied desire. It would take hours and hours of using her to take the edge off the craving that drove him to her now, hard and fast and wild through the woods. But he would have to be gentle, tender, let her rest when he exhausted her...she was with child now, he remembered.
Even so, he would exhaust her with sheer pleasure, the lucky woman. He wouldn’t leave her alone until they’d both been to heaven and back. And then...then he’d get an accounting of all her mischief. He laughed softly to himself. Then the fun would really begin.
He stopped to bathe in the lake on the rise, then continued down to the keep, throwing his reins to the stable boy when he arrived at the courtyard.
“The other men arrive soon,” he said. He greeted those who greeted him, but his mind was on the one he sought. Henna bustled over, embracing him.
“Welcome home, my lord. How are the Simpsons?”
“Thank you, Henna. They are better now, better than when we first set upon them. Where is Caitlyn?” He frowned as he saw the concern in her eyes.
“What? What is it? The baby?”
“No—”
“What? Is she ill?”
“No, no. Calm yourself. It only seems that pregnancy does not agree with her much. She has been...strange.”
“Strange?” Duncan looked around the hall. “Where is she?”
“Above stairs. Sleeping.”
“Something’s wrong. You’re just not telling me.” He headed for the stairs. “I knew, I knew I never should have—”
“Now, Duncan.” Henna stepped in front of him. “You’ll not begin already with this worry and agitation. She will be pregnant for many more months, and she will need you to be steadfast.”
“Edana said she was in danger, she was in peril—perhaps this is what she meant! Perhaps she’s ill.”
“I put no belief in her threats, and neither should you. The girl is fine, just breeding, and all that goes along with that, and you, of all people, must remain calm. If you wish to go to her, you must calm yourself first. I’ll not allow it otherwise!”
Duncan took a deep breath and then laughed softly, composing himself, looking down at the frowning matron before him. She was half his height and portly as a fir bush, but he had no doubt she could prevent him passage if she wished.
“I’m calm, Henna,” he said. “Calm and eager to see my wife. Let me pass and greet her before the other men arrive and I’m swept up in work.”
“She is in her room,” said Henna. “Kindly remember she is tired, and hasn’t been eating well.”
Tired? She may be tired and weak as a kitten, but he would still sink inside her before the hour was through. He scaled the stairs and walked quickly down the corridor. He stopped and knocked on the door before he opened it.
His wife. She was asleep, curled up under the covers. Ah, to see her pale, lovely skin, to feel her beautiful curves. He crossed the room to climb in beside her and pull her close.
“It is nearly noon, wife,” he teased, “yet you laze here in bed.”
She awakened with a start as his arms came around her. She had far too many clothes on. He began to pull up her skirt.
“No!” she gasped, pulling away from him.
He froze. She burst into tears, reaching out for him.
“Duncan, I’m sorry.” She clung to him, sobbing bitterly, practically strangling him, but the next moment pulled away from him again. Henna was right. Pregnancy had addled her mind. He tried to soothe her.
“I want you, Cait. I want to hold you. I’ve been missing you. I’ve been away from you too long. Undress for me.”
“But...but...it’s daylight.”
“I don’t care.”
He stood and began to take his clothes off. She rose unsteadily from the bed and backed away.
“I...I cannot lie with you, my lord,” she stammered.
Duncan smiled. “Is there something you want to tell me, dearest? Some news? I promise you, it won’t keep me from your bed. Not now, not in your ninth month.”
Caitlyn shook her head, anxious and pale. Her eyes looked positively wild. He grew still, half undressed. Something was wrong. Henna was right. She wasn’t well.
“What is it, Cait? What are you afraid of?”
“I’m just...I... I haven’t seen you in so long...”
“Even so, we are not strangers to one another. You know very well what I want, and that you will enjoy it. Come, you haven’t even given me a kiss.”
He held out his arms, but she didn’t come. She didn’t come.
“It’s only...it is only that I didn’t bathe last eve. My gown is...dirty...my
underthings... I must go bathe,” she said in a rush, darting out the door.
And he would have caught her, he would have stopped her if he wasn’t so shocked to see her lie, bold and outright, to his face. She lied to him. But why? Why?
He dressed again and made his way after her to the kitchens. He nearly caught her at the door to the washroom, but then, against all reason, his wife shut and locked the door.
She was mad. She’d completely taken leave of her senses. All around him, the kitchen staff stopped their work and stared. He banged on the door nonetheless, blind to everyone but his strange, mad wife.
“Caitlyn, if I have to break this door down you’ll regret it. Open it, now!”
Henna bustled in and scolded the open-mouthed staff back to work. She came to join Duncan at the door.
“She’s locked me out,” he said. “You’re right. She’s not well. Something’s wrong with her.”
Henna rattled the door. “Lass. Let me in.”
“Caitlyn! Open this door right now or I’ll redden your behind!”
“Hush!” scolded Henna. “You let her be. She’s just—”
“Just what? Just running and hiding from her own husband? She looked at me and backed away as if I intended her harm!”
