The Unwilling Bride

by Candy-Ann Little

  Chapter 5

  Anger and resentment shook her to the core. She ran out of the store, leaving behind her coat and Lucy. She never even felt the blustery bite of the wind as it gripped and tugged the hem of her dress. The windy conditions made the progress slow however fury spurred her on. The breeze pulled and loosened the ribbons of her bonnet, pushing the hat back so that it flopped and dangled behind.

  She burst through the door of the printing shop looking like a wild cat. The three men jumped and spun around, astonished at the sight. Caitlin stood in the doorway, the wind still clawing at her dress, making her untamed, red hair fly in every direction. Her pale face reddened to the color of rubies, and her eyes blazing like emeralds set on fire.

  “You!” She pointed to Dillon. “You have been in on this from the beginning.” Taking a few steps inside she let the wind slam the door shut.

  “Caitlin. Calm down.” Dillon urged.

  Untying the ribbons, she threw the hat aside, continuing her aggressive pace forward. “You knew that my parents were being deported back to Ireland, and yet, you said nothing.” Her eyes narrowed with rage. “Is that why you agreed to marry me? You think you’re saving me? Did you think I’d fall into your arms and claim you as my knight in shining armor?”

  “I ...I ... only…”

  “Shut up! I don’t want to hear any more of your lies.”

  “I never lied to you.” His tone remained calm.

  “You never told me the truth either.”

  She stood close, her face only inches from his. Anger and violence swirled, mingling with hurt and confusion. “When were you planning on informing me?”

  “That was up to your parents.”

  “I see. Blame everything on them.”

  “It was their discretion, Caitlin.”

  “You!” She pointed in his face. “You are the problem. If it weren’t for you and your country we’d have never been in this mess in the first place.”

  “I’m an American now. I do not consider myself from England.”

  “An American!” She tried to regain some control of her emotions but they were too far-gone. “America is sending them back. This country is no better than England. You are my enemy twice, Dillon Cade. I hate you!” The thunderous sound of her palm meeting Dillon’s face resounded in the room. No one dared even breathe until the shuffling of feet ended with the slamming of the door.

  “Caitlin wait!”

  * * *

  “Ma! Pa!” Caitlin’s frantic voice rose above the pounding of horse hoofs as she headed toward the house at a breakneck speed. Pulling back on the reigns she recklessly brought the steed to a halt. Her careless dismount was slowed when the hem of her skirt caught on the pommel. After tugging on the material it ripped. Her feet hit the hard earth and she fled into house yelling, “Where are you?”

  Kathleen was the first to meet her in the foyer. “Caitlin! What is the matter?”

  “How could you?” She asked the question tearfully. All the angry words and accusations fled from her mind.

  “How could we what?” Alin’s deep voice surrounded her.

  She looked toward the doorway, seeing her tall, slender father dressed in brown platoons with a matching leather vest. His gray eyes were silently penetrating while his face set in a firm look, ready to defend his actions. The same look he wore when defending a client in court.

  “How could you not tell me about Ireland?” She exploded.

  “We were planning to.” Kathleen advanced with outstretched arms.

  “When?” Caitlin avoided the embrace.

  “How did you find out?” Alin asked.

  “It does not matter. The only thing that matters is you pushing me into marriage without telling me the truth.”

  “We wanted to protect you.” Kathleen wrung her hands.

  “Protect me!” Caitlin threw up her hands. “Making me marry my enemy is not protecting me.”

  “Dillon is not your enemy.” Alin reminded her. “And his name will keep you safe in America.”

  “Do you believe I’d want to stay here without you?” Her heart ached. The pressure increased forcing the tears to slip out the corners of her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did not want to spoil your wedding day. We planned on talking to you the next time we saw you.” Alin handed her a handkerchief.

  “You didn’t want to spoil the worse day of my life? You should have informed me before the wedding.” She blew her nose. “Everyone knew. Brogan. Dillon. Even, Mrs. Johnson. I was the only one without a clue, yet my life is effected the most.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone.” Dillon’s voice startled her.

  Whirling around, she stared in amazement at his disheveled appearance. Although his tight fitting pants and matching black jacket were tailored to fit his manly form like a glove, they were covered in dust. His cravat was crooked, and his curly brown hair had loosened from the string and hung in disarray. His split lip had swollen and dried blood still clung to the corner of his mouth. She would have laughed out loud at his untidy appearance if she hadn’t been so upset.

  “If it were not for that stupid printing press braking…”

  “If it hadn’t broken, I’d still be in the dark.” Caitlin berated. “I’d still not know why I had been forced into marrying you. And, I wouldn’t know that my parents were going back to Ireland. And, I most certainly wouldn’t have found out what a lying scoundrel you are.”

  “Caitlin!” Her mother gasped. “You will not speak to your husband that way. I brought you up with better manners.”

  “Manners! What good will they do me?” She scornfully laughed. “You don’t need manners living with the English or the Americans. They’re both nothing but a lot of pigs.”

  “’Tis enough,” Alin yelled. “I realize you are upset but that does not give you leave to be rude.”

  “Then what does?” She glared at her father. “You did not think it rude to make plans about my life without informing me.”

  “What we did, we did to protect you,” he insisted.

  “I am old enough to make my own decisions.” She pointed to herself. “I should have been given a choice. You should have trusted me enough to tell me the truth.” Hurt flashed in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I did not discuss the matter with you. But I feared you’d be rebellious and not understand.” Alin put a hand on each shoulder. “You are not my little girl any more. I failed to see that. But, I must bare this burden alone. Both Dillon and your mother wanted to tell you. Even Brogan informed me I was handling the situation wrong. Now I see they were right. I only pray that you will forgive me someday. And know that I love you and wanted the best for you.”

  “And Dillon Cade is the best you could find?”

  “He is a fine man and will give you a good life.” Alin’s eyes shifted to Dillon. “Not many men would suffer the abuse you’ve inflicted.”

  “’Tis only because he’s a spineless nincompoop.”

  “Caitlin!” Kathleen’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment, matching her red gown. “I have had quite enough out of you.” Looking at Dillon she continued, “I’m truly sorry for our daughter’s behavior.”

  “No need to apologize. She’s very upset,” Dillon noted.

  “’Tis no reason to be mean.” Kathleen looked ready to swoon.

  Caitlin’s irritation reached the breaking point. Why didn’t her parent’s realize the hurt and anger? Why was Dillon the one defending her? “I do not need you to defend me.” Her eyes shifted from Dillon to her father. “And I do not need you to protect me.”

  “’Tis our job.” Alin studied her a moment before asking, “If I had told you everything, would you have agreed to the wedding?”

  Her silence was the answer.

  “’Tis what I thought.” He sighed.

  “You are crazy if you think I’m staying here when you go back to Ireland. I’m going home with you.”

  “Nay. You will stay here
with your husband,” Alin commanded.

  “But I want to go with you,” Caitlin pleaded.

  “Ireland is far too dangerous. You will be safer here.”

  “I don’t want to be safe,” she cried. “I want to be with you.”

  “I have already lost one child. I will not risk the life of another.” Alin’s gray eyes compassionately fell on his weeping daughter. “’Twill be hard for your mother and I as well.”

  “What about Brogan?”

  “He’s going back.”

  “So you’re willing to risk his life?”

  “I have no control over Brogan. Sons are different from daughters.”

  Aye, men get to do whatever they please while women are told what to do, she contemptuously thought. “Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”

  “Nothing.” Alin fought the tears threatening to fall.

  Caitlin wanted to fight harder. To pleaded more earnestly. However, she recognized the determined look on her father’s face and knew the effort would be fruitless. There was nothing left to do but quietly accept her fate.

  “Caitlin, we must get the horses back to town.” Dillon urged.

  Wearily looking at him, her heart filled with contempt. How could he be so insensitive? My life is unraveling and he’s worried about the horses. Of course, the thought never occurred to her that she had taken the mare without permission.

  * * *

  Dillon held the reigns as Caitlin mounted. Trying to sit sidesaddle without the proper saddle was almost impossible. Slipping and sliding on the leather as she adjusted her skirt almost made her fall off.

  “How did you ride all the way out here so fast without falling off and breaking your neck?” Dillon asked.

  “I didn’t ride sideways.”

  “I fear we’ll never make it back to town with you sitting like that. You’ll have to ride astride.”

  Caitlin altered her posture until she straddled the horse in a most unfitting manner for a woman. “Must you watch me?”

  “I do not want you to fall.” He hadn’t realized that he’d been staring. Although she sat in the most unusual position for a woman, he found the unconventional position quite alluring.

  “I told you, I do not need your protection.” She kicked the horse and left Dillon standing there, staring after her.

  “I’m not trying to be your protector,” he said, riding up alongside her.

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “Trying to be your friend.”

  “I do not need your friendship either. Your friendship is with my father. Not with me.”

  Not wanting to push the subject further Dillon rode beside her in silence.

  The ride was slow and quiet, leaving Caitlin time to ponder the situation. It also left her feeling the bitterness of the autumn air. Hostility and hurt kept the cold away before, but now the frosty conditions bit through the thin fabric making it hard to ignore.

  “Are you cold?” Dillon Asked.

  “I le … left the s … s … store in such a fit th … that I for … forgot my p … pelisse.”

  “Here, use my frock.” He reigned the horse to a stop and slipped his jacket off.

  Her first instinct was to refuse the gesture. However, the bitter cold left her no other alternative. She snuggled into the jacket grateful for the warmth. The faint scent of Dillon drifted up and for an instant she forgot her anger.

  * * *

  It was late by the time they returned the horses to their proper owners. After retrieving their carriage and Lucy, they headed home. The last pink rays of the sun marred the horizon, its dim light producing an eerie backdrop for the oak, maple, and pine trees, as they cast their shadowy branches across the face of the square house like a puppet show. Evening shadows played around the corners of the large, stately dwelling, turning the tan bricks into a lonesome shade of gray. The light fog rising from the ground encompassed the property like a cloak. Not even the candles lighting the two straight rows of windows could dispel the gloom. Or perhaps, it was merely Caitlin’s misery that made the entire picture look so dismal. Either way, this Georgian style house was the last place she wanted to be.

  Upon entering the house they were met by Martha, who stood with her large arms crossed in front of an even larger chest, ready to scold them for being late, however her attitude softened when she noticed the frightened, desolate look Caitlin wore. The disheveled appearance of both Caitlin and her master probed her curiosity, but a warning glance from Dillon cautioned her not to seek answers.

  “I’ve kept dinner warm for you.” Her tone sounded more motherly than outraged, which is what she’d felt a few minutes before.

  “Thank you, Martha. But I fear I’m not feeling well. I think I will go to my room.” Caitlin started toward the stairs.

  “Would you like me to bring a tray up?” Martha offered.

  Caitlin turned around. Dread and sorrow displayed in every line of her face. “That is very kind of you. However I have no appetite.”

  The house seemed to groan under the weight of its new mistress’s broken heart. The tangible feeling reached from every nook and cranny, pressing down upon Caitlin like a millstone.

  “I can bring you up some soup and tea.” Martha couldn’t let her go to bed without something to eat. It must have been the destitute look on Caitlin’s face that caused her mother instinct to kick in. She should have been miffed that she’d prepared supper and they hadn’t made it home on time to eat.

  “No, thank you. I just want to be alone.”

  “Do you need help getting ready?” Lucy asked.

  “Nay. ’Tis been a long day and you are probably hungry. Have your supper. I can manage by myself.”

  Finally ensconcing herself in the bedroom, she leaned against the door. “Alone at last.” The small fire in the hearth dimly lit the room, producing little warmth. It would need stoked soon or it would burn out, but she didn’t have the strength to do it. She didn’t even have the energy to get out of her gown.

  Feeling weary she fell across the bed and wept. Bitter tears of remorse, agony, and betrayal streamed down her cheeks. She’d lost everything that ever mattered in her life. Her home and friends in Ireland. Her brother, Dwayne. And now her parents and Brogan. “I have nothing left,” she sobbed. Nothing but Dillon.

  * * *

  Caitlin awoke, shifting on the bed to allow her numb arm access to bend. She lay on her back while her eyes adjusted to the dark. The fire had died and only a few embers still smoldered in the pile of ashes. Stumbling to the mantle she searched for the tinderbox, and lit the lantern by the bed. The lone flame cast ominous shadows around the large room.

  The damp night air hung heavy in the room, and dug through the thin layers of fabric causing Caitlin to shiver. She bent and twisted, trying to undo the row buttons that ran down the back. Unable to reach all of them she silently chided, why didn’t I have Lucy come help? Her agitation only mounted when she realized that it was late and Lucy would no doubt be asleep. “How am I going to get out of this thing?”

  She quit fiddling with the buttons and went to restart the fire. Perhaps some warmth would ease the dampness.

  “Caitlin.” Dillon called through the door. “May I enter?”

  “Go away.”

  Ignoring her command he opened the door. “I see the fire has gone out.” He took the piece of wood that she held. “I’ll stoke it for you.”

  “I know how to do it.” Anger and resentment still resided in her tone.

  “I’m sure you do.” He gently met her gaze. “However, you have had a rough day and this is a duty I can perform.”

  “Then do it.” She crossed her arms. “’Tis your house anyway.”

  “’Tis your home now also.”

  “’Tis my prison and naught else.”

  “Is there nothing I can do to alleviate your apprehension?”

  “Nothing.” She said pointedly. “Unless…” a thought struck her, sparking a flame of hope. “Unles
s you allow me to leave with my family.” The flame grew into a full fledge fire, if only she could convince him to help her. “Oh, Dillon! You could tell my father that you do not want to be in this arrangement any longer. Since we have not consummated the marriage it will not be a problem legally.”

  Dillon poked the fire a few more times and replaced the poker in the stand. Slowly turning, he met her excitement with a somber tone. “I cannot do that, Caitlin.”

  “Cannot or will not?”

  He watched the spark of hope die from her eyes, and hated being the one to bring her disappointment. “Your father and I already discussed this.”

  “And what I feel or think does not matter?” Contempt was back in her tone.

  Dillon much preferred the way she said his name when trying to persuade him of something. “I can tell you truly that if there were another way to keep you safe, I would let you go.”