He wasn’t even sure why he disciplined her. She was a tomboyish rapscallion on her best days. She climbed trees and scaled rocks as much as she played the sedate mistress of the keep, so ruining her gown was hardly cause for punishment. He suspected he disciplined her this night out of frustration with his father, and with some messy politics to the north that were going to need his attention soon. So be it. She submitted to whatever he decided to dish out, deserved or not.
He felt the familiar powerful arousal as he began to punish his wife. She jerked at the stinging contact of each blow. He was slow, intentionally making her wait for each stroke. He didn’t make her count out loud.
She was crying by the end, trembling in her effort to hold her pose, to not collapse on the floor to escape the belt’s blows. She rarely did that because it only brought her more. Still, he said nothing to her, neither encouraging nor chastising. He felt in a strange mood. She too seemed ill at ease. He knelt behind her, stroking his fingers up her back, then down between her legs.
“Caitlyn,” he sighed.
She was silent. He pulled her hips up and pressed his cock to her bottom. He still took her there quite a lot, most often after she was punished, but sometimes just because he wished it. She moaned as he thrust his fingers into her, easing the way. She barely resisted now. She was open and waiting, and he thought it was the most beautiful thing, to feel her unresisting acceptance of him. He pressed into her, leaning over her back, breathing down the delicate curve of her neck. She sobbed now, not because he hurt her, he knew, but because she thought she had been bad and that he was still punishing her.
“Caitlyn, enough.” He put his arms around her and thrust in her deep as she quaked under him. “I love you, Cait. I truly do.”
But when he finished and withdrew from her, she was still tearful. He slid his thumb across her cheeks, gently brushing them away.
“I have told you it’s enough, sweet. What ails you?”
“I don’t know,” she cried. “I feel so emotional. I...I...I know it’s awful to say, but when your father is here...I’m afraid.”
“Afraid?” he said. “You don’t need to be afraid of a mean old man. Don’t let him upset you.”
“I know he’s your father, but I don’t like him. I hate him,” she said with something like terror in her eyes.
“Oh Cait. Hush. Hush now.” He rocked her in his arms before the fire.
“Are you angry that I hate him? I try to be respectful, but I can’t... I can’t...”
“I’m not angry.” He silenced her with a finger upon her lips. “I’m not angry with you at all. I’m just as annoyed as you that he’s here. And there’s some trouble that might draw me away from home for a bit. I tell you truthfully, Cait, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.” He dropped a gentle kiss on her upturned lips.
“You’ll leave me?” Her voice trembled.
“Just for a short while.”
“For how long? How long will you be gone?”
“A few weeks. No more than two, most likely. You’ll be safe here.”
“And will you be safe? Will you come back to me?”
“Of course I will, dearest. How could I not? Come, you’re overtired. All this crying. It tires me just to watch you. Come to bed and let me help you relax.”
And he did, spreading her wide on the coverlet and lowering his mouth to her most intimate, sensitive core. At first she still sobbed and shuddered, resisting, but he would not be denied. He loved her, caressed her with his lips and tongue until she began to relax. He teased and explored her with his mouth until she gasped. He felt the orgasm when it shook her. She bucked against him, crying out, then closed her eyes, exhausted and still. He let her rest, lifting her and moving her over just enough to climb beside her into bed.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered just before she drifted off. “Please keep me safe.”
“I will always keep you safe, you know that.” But he lay awake a long time worrying about her after her eyes closed.
* * * * *
She couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t bear for him to leave her. If he died, if he did not return, she would be lost again, abandoned and alone. It was simply too awful to think about. She knew he was strong and capable, and defended by many brave men. But he was also an earl, and the forests were dangerous.
She felt so miserable. Her emotions were all over the place. She dreamed every night of being alone and friendless again, and awoke in the mornings nauseous with dread. She didn’t feel right at all. Even when the morning queasiness subsided, she felt like crying and laughing in the same moment, and she had the strangest thoughts and emotional feelings. Just looking at a beautiful shell or a pretty sunset could make her start bawling.
Now, cradled in his warm, cozy embrace, she tried to let all of that fall away. My husband loves me. My husband loves me. The mantra that protected her from everything. As long as she was in his arms, everything would be all right.
But the next morning he was gone. She jumped from the bed in alarm, dressed more quickly than she ever had in her life, and ran to the courtyard with Lonnie, her guard, calling after her to slow down. But no, Duncan wasn’t gone yet. He was there helping the men prepare for the journey. She ran to him, nearly getting run over by a horse.
“Cait!” he barked, pulling her to safety. “Watch out!”
“I thought you left already.” She threw her arms around his neck. “I thought you left me without saying goodbye.”
“We leave tomorrow. And you will not become frantic over it,” he said, noting the tears in her eyes. “Do you understand me? I won’t have sobbing and hysteria.” He made her look into his eyes, and made his voice hard and stern. “You will not fall apart over this. Wives let their husbands go, and they trust them to come back.”
“But what if...what if...”
“No what if’s. The only ‘what if’ is what will happen to you if you don’t obey me,” he said so only she heard.
She blushed under his gaze. She was still tender from the night before.
“You won’t leave me without saying goodbye?”
“I certainly won’t.” His eyes swept down over her figure and back up to her face. “You will have quite the goodbye tonight, dearest, believe me. Now go,” he ordered, gently nudging her away. “Keep busy, go and do something. Dig in the dirt or scale rocks or trees or whatever uncouth activities you normally do throughout the day.”
Cait turned to go reluctantly, and whispered “As my husband commands.”
* * * * *
That night at dinner Cait had little appetite. Duncan scolded her and insisted she eat more than she really wanted to. Eventually he resorted to feeding her the choicest bits of food from his own plate.
“You’ll need your energy, wife,” he reminded her under his breath.
She loved when he looked at her that way, and spoke to her in that husky, suggestive voice. It was a devilish look, she thought with a smile. She remembered when she’d first learned she was to be wed to the Devil of Inverness. How alarmed she’d been! It seemed silly now to think back about it. No, the only devil she knew was Lord Douglas. Even now he glowered at her over his cup. She kept her eyes averted from the horrible old man and his icy cold stare. Even his freezing gaze couldn’t cool the flush that arose on her cheeks as she felt Duncan’s hand roving over the top of her thigh to rest at the juncture there.
“Duncan,” she protested, putting her small hand over his. “Not here.”
He pretended not to hear her, and did not remove his hand, only widened his smile.
“Are you finished, wife?”
Yes.
Hand in hand they retired down the hall to the stairs and up to the chamber they shared every night. Cait was quiet, suddenly every bit as sad as she was excited. He’d promised her a pleasurable goodbye with his words, with his eyes, with his hands already roving over her. The pleasure, she wanted. The goodbye, she did not.
“What are you thinki
ng?” he asked, noticing her frown.
“Oh...I...nothing.” You will not fall apart over this. She was determined to obey him, but even so, some tears squeezed from her eyes.
“Caitlyn.”
“I know! I’m sorry.”
He stood aside at the door and let her enter. She began at once to disrobe for him, trying not to let tears overwhelm her.