“I’m quite capable of cooking,” Caitlin defended.
“That ain’t the problem. It’s what else ya might add to the meal that worries me.”
“How dare you!” The sting of the accusation hit her hard. “I’d never do anything to hurt Dillon.”
“Seems to me you have it pretty good. You’ve been out spending his money like crazy, buying fancy dresses, and hats. You’ve certainly spared no expense in redecorating this place, meanwhile complaining about my not using flour scraps in the baking.” She crossed her large arms.
Caitlin felt the tension between her eyebrows. Why did this woman have to be so difficult? “I am sorry I said anything about the flour. But I do not understand how those simple comments turn me into a murderer. As you have pointed out, Dillon has given me everything I want. So, why would I want to kill him?”
“Maybe cause offing him would leave you a very wealthy widow. You wouldn’t have to answer to a husband anymore.” Uncrossing her arms, she placed both hands on the sides of her ample hips. “I ain’t leaving you alone with my master. No way! No how!”
Caitlin rubbed at the pressure in her forehead, mentally counting to ten, trying to rein in her anger. A sharp tongue wouldn’t get her anywhere. Lord, please help me with this situation.
Feeling a calm settle over her, she replied, “Martha, I realize we got off on the wrong foot. I would like us to start over again. That is why I am coming to you for advice. You know Dillon better than anyone. I want tonight to be extra special for him. I also want it to be a surprise. Will you help me pay him back for all the kindness he has shown to me?”
Martha mulled the thought over for a few seconds. “All right. I will help you, but Lord God almighty help you if’n anything happens to Dillon.” Looming over Caitlin she said with a sneer. “I’ll come after you.”
“Understood. Now we must hurry to accomplish everything before Dillon returns tonight.”
* * *
Caitlin convinced Mr. Barclay that since his men had worked so hard and were way ahead of schedule they deserved some time off. After working a half day they wrapped up and left at two o’clock.
Caitlin had been busy in the kitchen all day. Although she assured Martha she could handle the cooking, Martha insisted on helping. At first she’d been upset at the persistence of the cook, but after a while was glad for the help.
Martha managed to keep herself busy with canning and preserving of vegetables and fruits, but she was close by to keep an eye on Caitlin. However, she soon realized that Caitlin was no stranger to the kitchen.
The two women spent most of the afteroon in the kitchen, stopping briefing to have their own dinner at noon. By the end of the day, they seemed to have a bond, or at least, an understanding of each other. Caitlin missed her mother, and memories of their shared times together in the kitchen spilled out during the course of the day. That was the one soft spot that Martha held for Caitlin.
As the women worked side by side even Martha loosened up telling stories about Dillon. Now and then, slipping some personal stories in about her own life.
With Martha’s help dinner was done sooner than planned. That left her more time to get ready. She took a long, hot bath and washed her hair, knowing it would take several hours before it dried completely.
Lucy helped her dress in the purple and white gown. That seemed to be Dillon’s favorite. She left her hair down and Lucy artfully arranged the tresses into a cascade of auburn curls.
“Thank you, Lucy. That looks beautiful.” Caitlin hugged her.
“More than your hair is beautiful. You look more radiant than the sun.”
“Oh, stop that flattery and get going. Your parents must be excited to have you home tonight.”
“Aye. It just feels kind of strange. I know I’ve only been here for two months but it feels like a lifetime ago since I lived with my folks.”
“I know the feeling. So much has happened over such a short period time. I guess that is what is referred to as growing up.”
The two descended the stairs as Martha came out from the kitchen. “Well, now everything is done except the spoon bread. Don’t put that in the bee oven until Dillon gets home. ‘Tis best served warm and there’s no telling what time he might’n be home. The pumpkin soup is by the hearth keeping warm. Just stir it now and then. And, the raspberry tart and lemon tea cakes are cooling.”
“I’ll manage.” Caitlin stifled a laugh.
“It won’t matter anyhow. Master Dillon isn’t a picky eater. I’ve done burnt things that he went on and ate without a word.” Martha laughed. “I don’t sepect he’s gonna worry about eating anyhow. Not with you all dolled up like that.”
“I just want everything to be perfect.” Caitlin nervously brushed her palms down the front of her dress.
“Stop that fretting,” Martha admonished. “You look fine and dinner will be perfect.”
“I hope so.” She had a lot riding on tonight. Her whole future was at stake. Would she be able to pull off a romantic tryst? She wasn’t sure Dillon even wanted this. Was she being too brazen? Silently praying for courage and strength she again felt peace about this course of action. This is what God told her to do. But, what if she’d misread the signs?
“Oh, stop this.” She chided herself. “I have the plan in motion. Nothing left to do but go forward.” Take the leap of faith.
All the fires had been stoked and she was lighting the last of the candles and lanterns when Dillon came home. Nervous butterflies took flight in her stomach. However, their flight was short lived. For the look on Dillon’s face told her this was the right thing to do. The warmth and tenderness in his eyes gave her the courage she needed.
“Where is everyone?” He took off his overcoat. “Except for the lad who took my horse to the stables, I did not see anyone.”
“I had everyone go home early. As a matter of fact the boy will leave as soon as he has finished with your horse.”
“What is all this?”
“I wanted to surprise you. I made your favorite dinner and I did not want any interruptions.”
“No interruptions, huh.” He stepped closer, wanting to hold her. To kiss her. Then stopped short. “You look so beautiful and I’m a mess.” His pants and shirt were smudged with ink.
“I have a bath waiting for you upstairs.”
“Really?”
“I still have some things to prepare. Dinner should be done by the time you finish bathing.”
Dillon took the stairs two at a time. After dumping the hot water into the brass tub he relaxed for a few minutes, trying to figure out what was going on. He certainly liked coming home to this after a hard day of work.
After drying off he noted that she’d even set out his favorite pants and shirts. How in the world did she know that? He dressed then went back downstairs.
Caitlin was in the dining room, spreading rose petals on the table.
“It smells wonderful,” he commented.
“I hope it isn’t dried out. It has been kept warm for a while.”
“I’m sorry I was late. I did not know you were going through so much trouble for dinner.”
“’Twasn’t much trouble. Especially with Martha’s help. I wanted to prepare it by myself but she would not let me.”
“I am surprised she let you in the kitchen at all.” He laughed.
“Believe me, it was not easy. But, I think things will be better now.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“You can light the candles on the table. I’ll get the first course.”
As she ladled the soup into the bowls she wished she’d taken Martha’s suggestion on having someone here to serve. Now, she would be stuck running back and forth between the kitchen and dining room. How could they have a serious conversation if she was always getting up? But, she didn’t want anyone around. No prying ears or peeping eyes.
“Candles are lit. Anything else I can do?” Dillon entered with a smile.
“Perfe
ct timing. You can carry this tray out to the table?”
“We could take all the courses out now, so you will not have to make so many trips.”
“Great idea.”
They loaded up the meal onto the large, silver trays, and carried it out to the table.
“Oyster loaves, roasted pork stuffed with apples, fried cucumbers. How did you know all of my favorite dishes?”
“Martha.” She smiled. “She even helped me pick out your outfit.”
“I should have known.”
The meal progressed and they laughed and talked. Dillon was so caught up in the atmosphere that he forgot all about the bad news he received earlier. He only wanted to enjoy every minute of this night.
After dinner, they went into the parlor where Caitlin served dessert.
“I do not think I can eat another bite,” he protested.
“We can save it for later. How about some tea or coffee?”
“Coffee would be great.”
She poured a cup and handed it to him. “Do you want to read some poetry?”
“Sure.” He picked up the volume he’d given her as a gift.
“I marked my favorite poems.”
He flipped it open to the dog-eared page. Clearing his throat he began. “‘Love’ by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
‘All thoughts, all passions, all delights, whatever stirs this mortal frame, are all but ministers of Love, and feed his sacred frame.’” He cleared his throat again. “Caitlin, why did you pick this poem?”
“Because it says what I feel.”
“You have no right to torture me this way.” Bitterness edged his voice.
Had she miscalculated his feelings for her? “I thought this is what you wanted.” She fought the panic welling inside her. Standing up she walked over to the hearth, trying not to cry.
“Caitlin, I’m sorry. I did not mean to be so gruff.” He came up behind her. “But you cannot lead me on like this. ‘Tis not fair. Not after I told you how I feel about you.”
She spun around, looking him in the eyes. “But, I am trying to tell you how I feel and you are not listening.” She stepped closer. Taking his hand she placed it over her heart. “You accused me of not wanting your touch. That is not true. Do you feel my heart beating, Dillon? When you are this close I cannot breathe. I feel so overwhelmed that I am scared to death. Can you feel that?” His hand scorched her skin.
Dillon’s pulse raced so fast he couldn’t breathe either. He couldn’t even think, but, somehow he managed a response. “Caitlin, ‘tis not safe. You must let my hand go now. Touching you makes me go crazy.” He tried to pull his hand away but she clung on tight.
“I want you crazy,” she whispered.
He heard the heavy sigh in her tone. He felt the beating of her heart pick up pace, matching his own rhythm. “Caitlin, I cannot allow you do something you will regret.”
“Losing you is the only thing I will regret.”
That was the last shred of self-control he possessed. Embracing her waist he pulled her close, fiercely kissing her sweet lips. She matched his kiss with a fierceness of her own. He buried his hands in her hair, inhaling the fragrance as he kissed a trail down her neck.
The sensations produced by Dillon’s touch muddled her mind more than hard cider. She didn’t think about what was happening. She only rode the tide of emotion that swept her into another world. Kiss for kiss, touch for touch, they explored each other’s bodies finding only perfection and delight. Just the way God intended between a husband and wife.
Chapter 13
Dillon watched the flames hungrily licking the logs, devouring the wood in a consumption of heat. The warmth blanketed his already sweltering body. He felt a kinship with the logs. Caitlin’s passion produced such fierce desires that his body felt on fire at a mere touch. He lay next to her, his emotions smoldering like a heap of ashes.
Averting his gaze from the hearth to Caitlin, he saw her lying on her back, eyes closed, but not sleeping. He watched the rhythmic heaving of her chest, not knowing what to say. Although she’d maneuvered this encounter, he had no idea what she felt. Doubts and misgivings raged like waves in a hurricane.
Rolling onto his side, he propped his head up with his elbow on the floor, for the first time studying Caitlin’s face. He noticed a tear trickle a path down to her earlobe. A quick glance of the room revealed the discarded clothes strewn about, taken off in the heat of passion. When he noticed the blood staining the rug he panicked.
“Caitlin, did I hurt you?” He sat up with a start. “I’m so sorry. I should have been gentler.”
Caitlin opened her eyes, his horrified expression making her laugh. Reaching up she touched his cheek. “I am fine, Dillon.”
“But the blood?”
“’Tis normal for the first time.”
Logic settled in. “Why are you crying?” He held his breath not positive he wanted the answer.
Caitlin sat up. “’Twas different than what I’d expected.” She maneuvered her body slightly, trying to cover her nakedness. “I guess I was not prepared for the intensity.”
“Nor was I,” Dillon admitted. “But it does not have to be like that every time.” He didn’t want to scare her off.
“I was not afraid, and it didn’t hurt much.” She blushed, slightly.
“No second thoughts or regrets?”
She shook her head, never looking him in the eye. This shy, unnerved Caitlin was a completely different woman from the headstrong, outgoing girl he knew.
“My bath is still upstairs. I shall warm more water so you can bathe.” He grabbed his pants and stood up.
Caitlin grabbed her gown, relieved to be dressed. “This was not quite what I had in mind when I planned this evening. I am truly grateful I had the foresight to ensure privacy.”
His light laugh eased the tension. “So am I.”
She smiled, looking him in the eyes, now that they were armed with clothing. “We were supposed to go to the bedroom.”
“It does not matter.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
Circling his waist with her arms, she hugged him tight, liking the feel of his hard, flat chest pressed against her. He was so strong and safe. Feeling protected by him was another emotion that confused her.
* * *
By the time she pinned her hair up and gathered the fragrant soaps, Dillon had the bath warmed. Caitlin soaked in the tub, enjoying the warm sensations of the water. Remembering the way her body felt when Dillon touched it.
A knock on the door startled her out of the musings. “Come in.”
Dillon hesitantly stepped over the threshold. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m fine.” She cocked head, smiling. “You may come all the way in.”
He walked over to the tub. “Do you want me to wash your back?”
Her back wasn’t in need of washing. However, she wanted to have Dillon touch her again. “’Twould be nice.” She leaned forward, handing him the rag.
He lathered it with the flower scented soap and applied it to her back. “Are you sure I did not hurt you?” His gentle voice sounded scared.
“Positive.” She sighed. “Just a little sore, that is to be expected the first time.”
“I should have been more tender.” He soaked the rag, squeezing it at the nape of her neck. His eyes followed the rivulets of water sliding down her smooth, creamy skin. Reaching out, he ran the tip of his finger down the same path. “I promise to control myself next time.”
Caitlin shivered from his touch. “I do not want you to ever hold back,” she whispered. “The passion works both ways. I feel it just as deeply as you.”
The smooth, husky tones of her voice slid over him like butter melting on biscuits. The catch in her breathing made his pulse quicken. His mouth suddenly went dry. He watched the drops of water glide down her body, gently splashing into the tub as she stood up.
“Oh, Caitlin.” All self-control fled. Wrapping his arms around her
wet body, he drew her into a deep kiss. Lifting her out of the tub.
* * *
Caitlin awoke and reached for Dillon but found she was alone. Squinting at the window, she tried to judge the time of day, but the shutters had been closed tight against the late November wind. The small amount of light slipping through the wooden slates wasn’t enough to tell the time.
“Sleeping beauty awakes.” Dillon entered the room carrying a tray, “Just in time.”
“What is all this?”
“I figured since you went through so much trouble to make dinner last night that I would make the morning meal.” He sat the tray down on the table by the bed. “How do you feel?”
“I’m famished, but other than that, I could not be better.”
“It isn’t much.” Dillon lifted the linen towel. Aromas of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, coffee and tea wafted through the air. “I fear I burnt the toast a little.”
“Everything looks wonderful. Besides, who can complain when getting served in bed?” She took the cup of tea he offered. After taking several sips she looked up and smiled. “You know a girl could get use to this.”
“’Tis my plan.” He sat on the bed, next to her. “To spoil you, so you’ll never want to leave.” He took her cup, setting it on the tray.
The Unwilling Bride Page 20
