Enough. He remembered the blood, the screaming, the accusations as Lenore lay dying. Did he really want to risk that again, especially with a treasure like Caitlyn? He was a bastard. It made no difference if he had an heir or not. The attraction to her would wear off. It had to, with time and exposure and a concerted effort not to be near her, not to touch her or look in her beguiling eyes. He would assign keepers to her and let her go where she wanted, do what she wanted, see who she wanted, as long as she left him alone.
And Henna would look after her too. She had already taken the girl firmly under her wing. It would be fine. He would just avoid her until he sorted out what to do, how to deal with her, how to keep his vile desires from ruining her life. He was a strong man. He could bear anything. As long as he didn’t see her naked. By God, as long as he wasn’t inflicted with that. As long as he didn’t have to see the curve of her hips tapering down to her delicately round... God help him.
He imagined for the hundredth time pulling her over his lap to run his hands over her shapely bottom. Rubbing it, cupping it, parting the cheeks to caress her and make her moan. Landing a sharp smack, watching her jump, feeling her twist against him. His cock was rock hard again. He took it in his hand with a sigh. How he would love to belabor her beautiful bottom, make it scarlet and sore, and then pull her up in his arms and soothe her, make it all better by impaling her on his cock—ah—
Masturbation was getting him nowhere. Even after the climax, the desire was still there. He turned on his side, determined to salvage what he could of the night, determined to sleep.
Determined to forget about the girl who’d stoked such dangerous fires back to life.
Chapter Three
Cait slept long, long past morning. When she awakened she had no idea what time it was, only that the sun was high in the sky. She had nothing to wear aside from the sheer shift. In fact there was nothing in the room she occupied except for the bed she lay on and a wooden chair beside it.
She remembered then what Henna had told her the night before, that the earl slept in the room adjoining hers. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders and crept over to the door in the wall and put her ear to it. She heard no sound. She unlocked it, trying not to make any noise. Slowly she opened the door until there was a small crack to peek through. She saw his massive bed, rumpled and unmade, but he wasn’t in it. Of course, he was not the sort of man to lie in bed all day. He’d probably been up at dawn working, fighting, whatever the king’s men did. She spun as the door to her own room opened and Henna bustled in. Cait guiltily shut the door to the earl’s room and leaned back against it.
Henna laughed. “Oh lass, you look like the cat that stole the buttermilk. Take a look if it pleases ya. He’s not there.”
“Where is he?”
“Down on the practice fields, I gather, or meeting with his men in the hall. Take a look. He has nothing to hide from you.”
“What if he catches me? He’ll be angry.”
“Of course he won’t. He’s your husband.”
“I better not,” she said, even though she really wanted to go in and lie in his bed and breathe in the smell of him.
“Well, I’ve brought you some breakfast,” Henna said, laying a heavily laden tray on the chair beside Cait’s bed. “And I’ve set the seamstress to sewing a gown for you too. It should be done shortly. Something simple to keep you warm until you choose fabric for more fashionable dresses. The earl will want you to have several pretty gowns, I’m sure.”
“Will he?” Cait was skeptical. She sat on the bed and picked at the tray. The fresh bread and milk looked and smelled wonderful, but she didn’t feel like eating.
“Go on, now,” Henna urged. “You’re far too thin. I’ll be unhappy if you don’t eat it, lass.”
Slowly, Cait forced herself to eat. She would have given anything for this warm, delicious food on the journey here, but now it didn’t appeal to her. She wondered when she would see the earl again.
“May I walk around the grounds, around the castle?” asked Cait.
“You certainly may. The earl wishes for you to have a guard at all times though. You can’t go wandering around alone, being his wife and the king’s daughter.”
“Why? Am I in danger?”
“Of course not, lass, but you can never be too careful. Someone has a tiff with the king, or an itch to ransom the wife of the Earl of Inverness, you know how it is.”
“Ransom? I never thought of such a thing.”
“Well, there’s bandits about who’ll think of almost anything to gain some coin by ill means. You shouldn’t forget that. Just stay by your guard and you’ll be perfectly safe. You’re to be allowed to go wherever you wish as long as you don’t go by yourself.”
“Oh,” said Cait. “I guess I can do that.”
After breakfast Cait’s new gown still wasn’t ready, so she put on the gown from the day before and decided to wander around. Her guard, a young soldier named Mitchum, looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else than tagging along after her. But duty was duty, she supposed, and if the earl wanted him to follow her around, it wasn’t her fault. She explored every inch of the castle from top to bottom, strolled around the grounds, and even ventured a short distance into the town.
She walked everywhere and looked everywhere but not once did she manage to catch sight of the man she wanted to see. Him. The Devil. Her husband.
She might have asked Mitchum where he was if she wasn’t so embarrassed, and if he didn’t have such an annoyed frown on his face. She would have asked Henna, but she kept so busy with the running of the castle all day that Cait was loathe to disturb her. She wished she would just run into him. She didn’t know why she wanted to see him so much. She was curious, that was all. And lonely. And she wanted him to touch her hand again.
But no, she saw him nowhere. For all she knew, he might have ridden off to another town for the day or the week or...God, she hoped not...the month. Dejected, she returned to the castle. Her guard dropped her off with relief at her room. Again, skittishly, she cracked open the door to his bedroom but no, no sign of him there.
After a moment’s hesitation she slipped into the silent room, shutting the door behind her. It was much larger than her room, which made sense because he was so much larger than she. It was not much more furnished though. The large bed, a couple of chairs, a chest in the corner. A couple of weapons leaning against the wall she was afraid to touch, although she looked at them closely, frightening as they were.
Against her better judgment, she went to his bed and crawled into it, not worrying overmuch about jostling the bedding since he apparently never made his bed. The sheets were tangled in a ball. How he must toss and turn in his sleep! She smoothed them out carefully. If he caught her now she could just claim she was straightening his room. Wasn’t that something any good wife would do? She ran her hand across the pillow, then lay down to rest her cheek upon it. It smelled clean and bracing and yes, it smelled of him. She breathed in and out, long and slow. Perhaps she would just lie here a minute and rest. He wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. What would it hurt, anyway? She was his wife after all.
* * * * *
Henna bustled down the hall carrying Cait’s gown in her arms, and a warmer shift for sleeping that she hoped would please her.
“Good afternoon, Mitchum lad,” she said to the surly soldier sitting in a chair outside her room. “What are ya doing? Surely the earl doesn’t expect you to wait here at her door?”
“Yes, ma’am, he does. He says when you’re not with her, I’m to be, and wherever she is I’m to be there too.”
“Well, no one’s going to snatch her from her own bedroom, I gather. But I suppose you must listen to your lord.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He was glad he had only one day of this duty a week. Following a girl around was a hell of a job for a soldier like him. The other men would be snickering behind their hands at him if they could see him sitting outside her door like some blasted
lady in waiting.
“Oh, now, it wasn’t that difficult, was it?” chided Henna. “Was the lass such a trial to you? Such a frown!”
“No, she wasn’t any trouble, but she did run all over the place, and the earl gave me strict orders to—”
“To what?” prompted Henna suspiciously.
“To be sure she stayed out of his way,” said Mitchum. “He said to keep her out of his sight as much as I could.”
“Really?” said Henna, her eyes narrowing. “He said that, did he? I wonder why. Well.” She would have a talk with him about that. What a thing to say about his new wife, and to her guard no less. It was absolutely churlish.
“Do you think she’s sleeping?” Henna asked. “How long has she been within?”
“An hour at least, perhaps more.”
Henna knocked softly. There was no answer. She opened the door a crack to peek inside, then swung it open, looking all around. “She’s not here! She’s not here at all, Mitchum! You’ve lost her already!”
“Oh, holy God,” he said, leaping to his feet.
* * * * *
Duncan was going to kill that boy Mitchum. How difficult could it be to keep track of one mousy girl? He would deal with him later. For now, he had soldiers searching the castle grounds for Cait while he combed the woods around the keep. For God’s sake, he had plenty of important work to be doing besides looking for her. He tried to convince himself his agitated state was only frustration, but in truth his heart was hammering anxiously in his chest. He had enemies and so did the king, and there were bandits in the woods around Inverness just as there were bandits everywhere. The idea of someone taking her, of her in fright, in peril...
He nudged his horse to a gallop and took off in the other direction. His men met him in a clearing.
“Nothing. No sign of her, Lord Duncan. But she couldn’t have gone far. Mitchum said he’d seen her an hour before—”
“Mitchum is an idiot who’s not to be trusted. No sign of her in town?”
“Perhaps we should search the castle proper again. Check in some of the unused rooms,” suggested Connor. “She could be hiding.”