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.
“It will be two weeks, Caitlyn. Perhaps less.”
“I know,” she said, her facade of control suddenly crumbling as she flew to his arms. “But...but...I’m so afraid. If you leave me...if you leave me alone...”
“You won’t be alone. You no longer live alone in a cottage in the woods. You live in a fortified keep, protected by your husband’s name and hundreds of soldiers.”
“But you’re leaving!” she sobbed into his neck.
“I’m leaving, but I’ll return. You will be secure here until I come back.”
“But what if you...what if you...”
“Don’t come back?”
“Y...Y...Yes...” she cried. “Who will take care of me? The king? He hates me. He wants me dead.”
“He doesn’t want you dead, dearest.”
“He does!”
“Hush,” he said, trying to calm her. “Anyway, you won’t go to the king. My father will take care of you should anything befall me. He’ll find another husband for you if I don’t return.”
She gasped in horror at the very thought of it. “No. No! Your father?”
“I know you don’t like him. But family is family. He won’t leave you to the wolves. He’ll find another match for you if you wish, or let you remain here as my widow. But honestly, Cait, I don’t think I’ll fall on a single journey to the Simpson holding and back. However, if I do, you must believe that you’ll be provided for. My father and I have discussed it.”
“You have?” She couldn’t imagine it, that he would entrust her care into that man’s hands, father or not.
“Yes. He’s going to stay here until I return, so you must put your mind at ease.”
The very idea of it made her cry even harder. How could he imagine that would put her mind at ease? But how could she beg him to send his own father away only based on her unreasonable fears? So he was an evil, bitter, malevolent old man. As long as he left her alone, she would be fine. She was surrounded by guards, by Henna, by townspeople who loved her. She would just stay in her room until Duncan returned.
She sniffed and signed, her course of action decided. She would simply have to hide away until Lord Douglas was gone. Duncan watched as she composed herself, wiping away her tears.
“Better now?”
She nodded, leaning close to him. “It’s only because I love you so very much.”
“I know,” he said, drawing her back into his arms. “I love you too. I’ll miss retiring to this room with you every night. And when I return...”
* * * * *
Oh, when he returned...
He would give her a send off tonight, but it would be nothing like the welcome he’d give her on his return. He looked down at her lovely breasts, heaving softly with her sobs. He cupped each one in his hand. Were they growing fuller? Duncan regarded them with a subtle narrowing of his eyes. His hands slid down to her hips, to her waist, and his fingers explored her there, encircled her as if seeing her anew. He sighed and cupped her chin in his hands.
“We will simply have to survive this short parting, Caitlyn.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But before I go, dearest...” Light pressure had her sinking to her knees. Duncan fisted his cock and guided it to her lips. He closed his eyes, giving himself up to the warm, wet sensation of her eager mouth. He cupped the back of her head, drawing her closer, thrusting deeply in her throat. She gagged a little and worked to regain control, swallowing his length as he let his mind drift. But it returned again and again to this:
His beloved wife was with child.
There was only the slightest change. A darkening of her nipples, a subtle change in the size of her breasts, but he could see it. To his knowledge, her courses had not come on her as normal. Did she know? Did she even suspect?
He would let her discover it herself. He wouldn’t tell her. To be truthful, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. He was only sure that her body was changing, and no one knew her body more intimately than he. Henna would know. She probably already knew. Duncan thought his innocent wife would be the last to realize her condition, and that only when her belly got too large to let her kneel down in position for him.
He pulled away from her and lifted her to the bed, spreading her legs wide and thrusting inside so that she gasped from the sudden adjustment of being filled by him. Her eyes closed with desire.
“Does that feel good, Cait?”
“Oh, yes. Yes!”
He took her hands in his and pinned them over her head. “Spread your legs for me. Spread them wider,” he insisted, until her legs were splayed wide open and he could take her as deeply as he wished. He rode her hard. Her newly expansive breasts bounced with each thrust, and she tossed her head and grew wild from the sensation of him taking her so masterfully. It was as if he wanted to burn himself upon her since he wouldn’t be able to be with her for some time. He let himself feel everything about her that he loved; her tightness, her warmth, her sighs against his ear, the heaving of her breasts beneath him as she orgasmed with breathless gasps.
He came inside her womb for the first time ever without anxiety. The thing was done. She was already with child. Well, he would still lie with her. It was impossible not to, and as soon as he returned, he would lie with her again. He would lie with her until her belly made it impossible. Even then, he thought he would still find a way.
But not tonight. He had to let her sleep because he intended to leave well before dawn. He intended to leave before she awakened. It would be too difficult to endure that tearful goodbye. He didn’t want to see the fear that overwhelmed her. He knew she would be perfectly all right, and he would too, but she would fear the worst. It was more merciful to leave in the night. She would be angry, perhaps, because he had promised he would not leave her without saying goodbye.
So when she was fast asleep, when her breath came slow and steadily in the dark hours of the morning, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Good bye.”
He rose and found Henna in the kitchen preparing a pre-dawn breakfast for the men. She knew him well enough to know by the look on his face what he’d come to tell her. She smiled.
“You’ll see, Duncan. You’ll have a fine son or daughter come summer. You’ll see how silly you were to put this off.”
“You knew already.”
“Aye,” she laughed, “but then, I know a woman’s ways inside and out. I know how they change when they’re carrying a bairn.”
“Watch out for her, Henna. She doesn’t know. Perhaps you shouldn’t enlighten her until I return. She’s already so nervous that something will happen to me.”
“She’ll miss her husband, yes. She’s always had a singular attachment to you. I think it’s sweet, how she dotes on ya. She hasn’t known much security in her life.”
Duncan sighed. “It’s just a bit of business with the Simpson clan. I’ll be back in a couple weeks. Just keep an eye on the little madwoman. Don’t let her kill herself before I return.”
Henna gasped. “Oh, to even say such a thing. She’ll be perfectly fine. I’ll keep her nice and busy with lots of projects. Now go on,” urged the old woman. “Eat a good hot breakfast before ya go.”
When Duncan rode out just before the light of dawn broke over the firth, he was trying to put his mind to the task at hand, the journey, but his mind kept returning to the thought of his sweet, slumbering wife all alone in his bed. He had the sudden mad thought of waking her and bringing her with him. He could place her before him in his lap to ride with him through the silent forests. She would have been an uncomplaining passenger, but it was impossible. Riding across Scotl
and, camping, surrounded by rough men. It was a fanciful idea. But it would have been nice to have her next to him to warm him all the way there and back.
Maybe if she wasn’t pregnant he might have risked it, but it was much wiser in her condition to leave her safe at home. He put her out of his mind with great effort, and put his heels to his horse to catch up with his men in the dawn’s light.
Chapter Thirteen
Cait walked the beach listlessly. A few days had passed but it still smarted to remember he had left her without saying goodbye. She sat on a rock near the water and dug her toes into the sand. He claimed he loved her, but he had a strange way of showing it. She drew shapes and squiggles in the damp earth, letting the waves roll up and wash them away.
She wouldn’t write words. No. Ever since that day when Duncan learned she could read, everything had gone terribly wrong. She stabbed at the sand with the piece of driftwood, then looked back over her shoulder at Mitchum who stood at the mouth of the pathway to the beach. Mitchum didn’t know she could read or write, nor did he care. She was so awfully lonely. She wished Mitchum would talk to her, keep her company, but none of them would. They only stalked along beside her, silent and attentive, looking around as if at any moment some mortal threat might present itself.
She considered walking back into town to gossip with the women, but it seemed they always held their tongues when she showed up. It was terribly uncomfortable. She wanted to listen in to their immoderate, girlish talk, to learn how other women pleased their husbands, but they always fell silent when she listened, and she simply wasn’t in the mood today to play with the children.
Cait and the Devil Page 13
