The Unwilling Bride

by Candy-Ann Little

  “’Twould be best to be careful what one wishes for,” she leaned forward, giving him a kiss, “It may come true.”

  “I believe life will never be dull again.”

  “I certainly hope not.” Lounging back against the pillows, she smiled, “I shall do my best to keep dullness away.”

  “You shall not have to work all that hard.” He watched her green eyes brighten with amusement. Her fiery hair tumbling around her shoulders in a tangled mass of curls. Her mere presence dispelled the glum, dreary, drudgery of life. “You have a light that seems to follow wherever you go.”

  “And you, my lord, have a silver tongue. Which you wield very skillfully.”

  “As long as it keeps you by my side.” He kissed her again.

  “And what shall I use to keep you by my side?” Caitlin seductively allowed the sheet to slip down.

  “Woman, you are a temptress.” Dillon raised one dark brow. “However, I must get to work. We are behind schedule as it is. I shall try my hardest to be home early tonight.”

  “I suppose duty must come first.” Her long, exaggerated sigh hinted at boredom.

  “I fear that is true. Besides you have work to do as well.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Mr. Barclay will not be put off again.”

  “I cannot wait until the house is finished so we can be alone.”

  “We will have all night to be together.” Leaning over, he kissed her one more time. “Good-bye, love.” Grabbing some burnt toast from the tray, he headed out the door.

  * * *

  “You sure are in a good mood today, boss.” Johnny hadn’t seen Dillon this happy in months. “Seems odd, especially after the tragic news about Mr. Tone’s death.”

  “Aye, my boy. My mood has nothing to do with Mr. Tone. It is a sad day indeed. He was a great man. I’m honored to have known him.”

  “Are we printing his speech in the paper?”

  “Aye. I believe his speech will inspire everyone.”

  “How did your wife take the news?”

  “I never got the chance to tell her.” Dillon smiled. “We had other distractions last night.”

  “What could be more important?” Johhny asked.

  “When it comes to adults, it was best not to ask too many questions.”Dillon laughed.

  “What is this speech about?” The female voice started both men.

  “Blast it, Henrietta. Will stop sneaking up on me?” Dillon demanded. Johnny slipped, unnoticed into the back of the shop.

  “I didn’t sneak,” she defended with a pout. “Why are you so sour anyway?”

  Dillon took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I am busy right now.” He didn’t have time for her whining. And, he most certainly didn’t want Caitlin to know she was there. They were just becoming close; he wouldn’t risk the blissfulness they’d shared last night, on petty jealousies.

  “I won’t take much of your time.” She pasted on a smile with her bright pink lips, but was not pleased with his distant tone and attitude. “I only wanted you to take a look at this.” She handed him the folded linen paper.

  “What is it?” He held up his ink stained hands. “I will never be able to read it if I touch it now.”

  “An article about the social.”

  “How can you write about it when it hasn’t happened yet?” Dillon was more than perplexed. His tone was edged with frustration.

  “Exactly my point. It’s announcing the event.”

  “Everyone in town already knows about it.”

  “You could still take a look at it.” Her pout developed into full-blown dejection.

  “All right. Set it on my desk and I’ll get to it when I have time.” Without another word, he turned back to the press.

  Henrietta was clearly miffed as she stomped across the room, tossing the paper onto the cluttered desk. She wanted to spend more time talking. He seemed to be giving her less and less attention since he’d married that Irish chit. Suddenly she brightened with enthusiasm as she formed a plan.

  “Dillon Cade you should be ashamed of yourself,” she scolded. “Why look at this desk. I do declare it’s the messiest thing I have ever seen.”

  “I do not have time to worry about the appearance of my desk. I have a news paper to get out.”

  “You know what you need?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “A secretary to help you with organizing things.” She started rearranging papers. “See, I can help you do lots of things around here.”

  “I do not need a secretary, or anything else.”

  “I would not charge much. Why, I’d even be willing to work for free.” The seductive tone matched her swaying hips, as she sauntered across the room, positioning herself next to Dillon. “I believe what little payment I’d expect would be most enjoyable for you.” She pressed the soft curves of her body against his.

  Lord; give me patience, please! Dillon silently prayed, hoping to alleviate the anger boiling inside of him. He was pinned between the press and a daft woman, void of understanding.

  “Henrietta, back up and give me some room. ‘Tis not proper to be so close.”

  She took two small steps back. “I was only showing you what I have to offer.”

  “I have already said that I’m not looking for any help. If you need money, I suggest you find a husband.”

  “Being married isn’t the only way a girl can be compensated.”

  Clearly angling to be his mistress, she had certainly dressed for the part. With her low cut, tight forming dress, and painted face, she’d fit right in on the streets. Dillon surmised that is where she might end up if she didn’t get her act together.

  “’Tis the only way for a proper young lady,” he warned.

  She could tell by the hard look in his eyes that her persuasion wasn’t working. “I fear you aren’t ready for my talents yet. However, I am a patient woman. You’ll tire of your little arrangement soon enough. I’ll be waiting for you when you do.”

  Before Dillon could say anything, Johnny came in from the back room.

  “Johnny how nice to see you again.” She smiled brightly, turning around to face the intrusion.

  “It…it is?” He stammered.

  “Of course it is. Why, I was just telling your boss that what you need is someone to help keep things clean and organized. What do you think?”

  I…I don’t know, ma’am.” Johnny looked down at the floor. He couldn’t figure out why she was being so nice, whenever he ran into Henrietta in town, she would make fun of him and call him names.

  “Why don’t you talk your boss into it.” Turning to Dillon she ran her tongue across her upper lip. “We could have so much fun together.” With her black skirt sashaying, she made her way to the door.

  “Think about my offer, Dillon.”

  * * *

  The whole house had been in a buzz of activity all day. Mr. Barclay and his men worked on the remodeling, while Caitlin oversaw the combining of the two bedrooms. All her things were taken into Dillon’s room. She didn’t think the chore would have taken so long, but combining all their things in one room proved to be a giant feat. Things had to be sorted, separated, and rearranged. Caitlin had been busy all day, only stopping to eat supper at Martha’s insistence.

  “Thank you, Martha. I must confess that I feel much better after eating.”

  “Can’t have you going around starving yourself. You’re already a mite too thin now.” Martha removed the dishes from the table.

  “I just want to have the room completed before Dillon comes home. The task is taking longer than I’d expected.”

  “You have plenty of time.” Martha waved her chubby hand. “Master Dillon won’t be home for a long time.”

  “He said he’d try to be home early.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. The paper comes out in two days.” She finished loading the cart with dirty dishes. “Ye may be having supper by yourself. But I’ll make sure it’s hearty. You need to keep your strength up for when the master does get
home.”

  “Martha!” Caitlin set the linen napkin down. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

  Humph. “Why not, ‘tis true.”

  “Certain things are not proper to discuss.”

  “Since when do you care about proper?”

  “Some things are private.”

  “Then, I guess it wouldn’t be proper to say it’s about time the two of you stop playing cat and mouse, and get down to the business of making a marriage.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  Martha’s loud cackle echoed through the house. Caitlin couldn’t help smiling as she retreated.

  After answering Mr. Barclay’s questions she went back upstairs to the bedroom. Needing to find more room for her clothes, she started searching through the dresser drawers. She found two stacks of letters. One set was tied with a blue ribbon; the smaller set red. She also found some paper, a few quill pens, an inkwell, and a blotter.

  Knowing she shouldn’t read the letters didn’t stop her curiosity. Besides they were married. Is it still considered an invasion of privacy if you’re married? Deciding that it wasn’t, she untied the blue ribbon. The folded pieces of paper had poems scratched onto them. She only read a few. Then retied the ribbon and went to the stack tied with red ribbon. These letters appeared to be from England, probably from his father.

  A little bit of envy ran through her. Not receiving any letters from her family since their departure made her anxiety heighten. She didn’t know if they were alive or dead. Maybe even thrown in prison somewhere.

  She brushed the tears away, and tried to focus on the positive. She’d said prayers for them every night. Surely God was protecting them. Her faith was growing. The childhood faith was blossoming into something real. No longer did she view God through her parents, or the preachers’ eyes. She now had her own understanding, her own views. God felt real in her heart. His love alive in her life.

  Slowly opening the letter she read the brief letter from his father. Not much had been said in it. Then again, Dillon had said they weren’t close. The next letter was written in a different handwriting. The large, loops and swirls suggested a woman’s writing. Caitlin thought twice about reading this one. Was it from an old girlfriend? Maybe someone who still hoped to one day marry Dillon.

  That suggestion made her angry. Opening the letter she read the lengthy contents. Relief filled her when she realized it was from his stepmother. However, anger, disappointment and hurt merged as she continued reading. Stuffing the letter back in the pile, she retied the ribbon then threw the pile on the floor.

  Deciding to forget that she’d even saw the letter, she went back to cleaning out the drawer. However, the anger and humiliation wouldn’t be appeased. She’d have to talk with Dillon tonight.

  Finding a loose piece of paper, she picked it up, carefully weighting the idea of intruding again. She hadn’t liked the last letter. However her stubborn curiosity reared to life again.

  The contents of this letter were more devastating than the last one. Caitlin felt the room spin. She gasped for air, as if the breath had been knocked from her chest. “This can’t be true,” she murmured. “This can’t be happening.”

  * * *

  Dillon found Caitlin in the downstairs parlor, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Her determined gait and rigid face foretold a storm brewing.

  “Caitlin?”

  She stopped pacing, clearly taken aback by his presence. “I did not hear you enter.”

  “I’m not surprised. You seemed deep in thought. Whatever is the matter?”

  She held up the folded letter. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

  “Last night.”

  “I do not recall you mentioning the fact that Theodore Wolf Tone killed himself after being found guilty of treason.” Caitlin crossed the room, waving the envelope. “Did you not think I have the right to know? This affects my entire family. How could you keep something like this from me?”

  “If you remember, we were busy with other things. I did not want to spoil the evening.” Dillon took his stance with his hands locked behind his back. Looking like a soldier preparing for battle.

  “‘Twas purely selfish motives that drove you to secrecy?” Caitlin’s animosity rose. “’Tis my life we’re talking about, my future. Is that not more important than a night of passion?” She spun around in a whirl of anger.

  “That is not fair,” Dillon stated, calmly. “You planned the evening. I merely wanted to wait until the right moment to bring up the subject.” Unlocking his hands he walked up behind her, setting his hands, gently on her shoulders. “I thought I was your future.”

  The hurt in his tone softened her heart. “You are, Dillon.” She turned around, allowing herself to find comfort in his embrace. “I’m only worried about my family. I was also hurt that you would keep something so important from me.”

  “I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you.” He ran his hand through her hair. “I planned on telling you tonight. Besides, his last words to the court will appear in the paper. The whole town will know about it then.”

  He hugged her tight, feeling her animosity melt away. “I, too, am worried about your family.”

  “You are?” Her voice muffled against his chest.

  “Aye. We are married. So your family becomes my family.”

  “Then must I also adopt your family?” She looked up into his eyes, noting the hardness that replaced his usual mirth.

  “Some families are not worth the effort, my dear. I would never punish you by forcing my family on you.”

  “You hate your family that much?”

  “I would not go that far.” Dillon pushed away, pacing over to the hearth. “We are just not close.”

  “You never talk about them. Except for the one time when you told me about your mother, you have never said anything else.”

  “There is nothing to tell. Besides, you have not opened up about your family either.”

  “True. But I have spent most of our marriage hating you for forcing me into wedlock.” Caitlin walked up behind Dillon, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back. “You can hardly expect a girl to open up to her enemy.”

  “Am I still your enemy?”

  “Do you have to ask? Was not last night enough proof for you?”

  Dillon turned, staring into her eyes. “Some people can have intimacy without any feelings.”

  “I believe you are speaking of the male population, sir. Women do not treat such matters lightly.”

  “I could argue the point, but will not waste the time. Especially if that means you have feelings for me.”

  “If I admit to having feelings, will you open up about your family?”

  “I have already said there is nothing to tell.” His tone chilled the room.

  “Have you not kept in contact at all? Not even with letters?” She persisted.

  “Why are you pushing this subject?” He turned around, looking into the fire, lost in thought.

  “I am sorry. I did not mean to pry into matters that are none of my business.”

  “I did not mean that.” Dillon sighed. “My family is your business. I just do not like talking about them, especially my stepmother.”

  “Is she the truly wicked stepmother, like in Cinderella?”

  “She made that character look like a kitten.”

  “Do they know that we are married?”

  “Why are you feeling so insecure? Do you think I’m trying to hide you?” He chuckled. “Will it make you feel better to know I sent a letter to them?”

  “’Tis not insecurity, but curiosity. What do they think of our hasty marriage?”

  “Why so many questions?” Suddenly a light dawned. “You read the letters, didn’t you?” Clasping his hands behind his back, he muttered to himself. “Yes, of course. It all makes sense now. The letter about Tone’s death was in my drawer with the letters from my father. You were snooping and found t
hem.”

  “I was not snooping,” Caitlin denied. “I happened upon them by accident.”

  “Did you manage to unfold and read them all by accident as well?”

  “I only read a couple. Please do not be angry with me. I did not mean to pry. I was just curious.”

  “I am not angry. I merely wished to protect you from the unpleasantness.”

  “Then you do not agree with your stepmother. She said some awful things about me.”

  “I care little for her opinion and sent a letter back telling her so.”

  “As long as you do not heed to her advice.”

  “Never.” Dillon gathered her in his arms. “You should not have read those vicious, cruel rantings.” Dillon gave her a long, slow kiss. “Does that put an end to the distress, and uncertainty?”

  “Somewhat. Although I may need just a little more convincing.”

  They kissed again.