“Ha! If you cared about her you’d act differently. You refuse to make an honest wife of her and take her to your bed, and yet you’re happy to turn her over your lap and punish her like an errant child when she makes one mistake. How do you think she feels, that you’ll torment her defenseless bottom but haven’t yet performed your husbandly duties as you should—
”
“She feels nothing, because the ignorant chit has less than no idea what husbands and wives actually
do
. And I’d prefer it to stay that way as long as possible,” he added with a stern look at Henna. “I’ll introduce my wife to the intricacies of the marriage bed as soon as I see fit.”
“Well,” Henna harrumphed, scrubbing his back so hard he was sure she left marks, “I can’t say I agree with the way you’re treating her. Thought I raised you better, I did. Sometimes I think you’re as cold as your father deep down inside.”
“I am not like my father!” Duncan snapped. He bit his tongue hard to keep from saying words he’d regret, and stiffened under her hands. “Leave me now, Henna. I can abide no more of your squawking. Just leave me alone.”
Wisely, in the face of Duncan’s anger, the portly old woman made herself scarce.
Duncan sank back in the water with a frown. He was not his father’s son. He never would be. No. His father was cold, emotionless,
incapable
of showing love or even empathy. Duncan was nothing like him, nothing at all. Was he? No, he wasn’t, he couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be.
He rose up out of the tub and began to dry himself. It was time for dinner, time for him to sit and eat beside his wife. He needed to see her, desperately needed to be near her. Somehow her beauty, her innocent gaze, her crooked, uncertain smile would make it all okay.
Chapter Five
Duncan’s hair was still wet when he arrived at the hall for dinner. His face hardened when he saw she wasn’t there, but then he saw her approaching from the corridor. She turned her head a little, dropping her eyes from his. She was so charmingly shy. Or was she fearful?
Ashamed perhaps?
When she drew near he offered his hand and she took it, sliding him a look he didn’t understand.
Well enough. Who understood women? Her duty now was to sit and eat beside him and as long as she did that, he didn’t care what was going through her addled head. She sat on his left side, eating very little and speaking even less. She fidgeted plenty though, until he put a hand on her leg. She stilled, looking up at him.
I know. I meant for it to hurt.
“Aren’t you hungry? You should eat. Your gowns are practically falling off you.”
“These aren’t my gowns.”
He frowned. Why didn’t his wife have any gowns of her own yet? He’d have to ask Henna to remedy that quickly. She needed gowns that hugged every gorgeous curve. She should have a hundred beautiful gowns, all of them bright yellow, red, orange. Garish blazing colors so he could keep track of her when she ran off and climbed into trees. He chuckled under his breath.
“What is it?” she asked, pushing her food around her plate.
“Nothing.”
He watched her toy with her meal. It was obvious she was uncomfortable; not just uncomfortable sitting, but uncomfortable sitting next to him. It annoyed him, but he understood. “Put your fork down if you’re finished eating.”
“May I be excused?”
“No.”
She placed her fork beside her plate and put her hands in her lap. Duncan swirled the wine in his glass, then offered her a sip.
“No thank you.”
“Don’t enjoy wine?”
“Not very much.”
“Perhaps you’ve never had really fine wine.”
“Perhaps I’ve had no wine at all,” she said. “I’m just
a nobody
from a cottage in the woods.”
He looked over at her sharply. “You aren’t a
nobody
. You’re my wife.”
“I suppose.”
I suppose.
I suppose? What did she mean by that? “There’s no supposition about it.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re my wife. The priest married us.” She made no reply to that comment, only sat very still with her hands clasped in her lap.
“A cottage in the woods?” he asked, changing the subject. “You were not raised at court?” She shook her head. No, of course not, he realized. If she had been, she wouldn’t be such an innocent.
“My father hates me. No, I wasn’t raised at court. He wouldn’t have tolerated me there.”
“He hates you? Why?”
“Because I remind him of my mother, and she was a liar and a slut.”
He nearly spit out a mouthful of wine. “Who told you that?
Your father?
I’m sure it isn’t true.”
“I don’t know. I never met my mother.”
“Then who did you live
with in
your little cottage?”
“My old nursemaid, Erma.
She died a few weeks ago.”
“And she didn’t tell you anything about your mother?
Or your father?”
She shook her head. “I never knew either of them.”
“And you didn’t ask? You weren’t curious about your circumstances?”
“I didn’t care. I didn’t think about it. Erma was my family. I was happy there.”
He frowned, not missing the insinuation. She
was
happy, but not anymore. “Can you not be happy here? I’ll have some gowns made for you.”
Gowns.
Idiot.
She was no typical, vain woman to be mollified with the promise of new gowns or pretty ribbons. He thought of the way she’d thrown the perfect apple down for him just a few hours earlier.
“I enjoy dining with you, Caitlyn. You’re not a
nobody
to me.”
“Thank you for saying that.” She was obviously unconvinced. Then she asked again, “May I be excused?”
He sighed and nodded. “Yes.”
* * * * *
Time passed, a couple of weeks, and
Cait
was pleased to be given many lovely gowns, but no more spankings over her husband’s knee. It still occurred to her in lonelier moments to draw his attention through mischief, but the result was really too painful to make it worthwhile.
So she behaved as well as she could. She tolerated whichever surly young soldier followed her around and did her best to stay out of the earl’s way. She loved to be outside, strolling through the town watching the townspeople. She enjoyed watching the animals in the yards and the many children at play. The children avoided her for the most part, although she smiled at them. She supposed her strange appearance scared them away.
She found herself alone a lot, but it didn’t matter. She was well cared for, content as she might be. She had plenty of fresh air and not many duties to attend to, although she begged for chores. She wanted to be put to work to escape her boredom, but Henna chased her from the kitchen and the laundry rooms whenever she lingered too long. The gardener at least let her help tend the gardens. The earl rolled his eyes when he discovered her dirty fingernails. He picked weeds from her curls and told her she needn’t till the soil like a common laborer. Thankfully, though, he didn’t make her stop. If it wasn’t for the solace of the garden, she would lose her mind.
The earl still ignored her as much as possible. He sat with her at dinner, yes, but they barely touched. They had trouble finding things to talk about since they knew each other so little. When he looked at her, which he did often, she always developed a lump in her throat that kept her from talking, from asking, from confiding, from saying any of the things she wanted to say.
How can I please you? What will make you like me? When will you hold me again?
She couldn’t say them, so they went unanswered and life went on as it was. And so it was that one day she was headed to the garden, hoping to catch a glimpse of the earl up on the rise when a strange man, tall and forbidding, stepped into her path.
She drew back. No man besides the earl dared come so near to her. She looked at her guard for guidance. He bowed to the man and said, “Good morning, my lord.”
She looked back at the man warily. He looked very much like her husband, but he was older and his eyes were not nearly so kind. This man’s eyes were hard and sharp, and they made her flush even though she’d no reason at all to feel ashamed.
Cait
dropped a reserved curtsy. Her eyes went to the guard again, but he looked at the ground. It was
Mitchum
, the guard she’d gotten in so much trouble the first day. She’d apologized at least three times but he still treated her with subtle disdain. Now she felt glad to have him there, and sidled closer under the stranger’s skewering gaze.
“Are you the earl’s new wife?
My daughter-in-law?”
“Yes. Yes, sir,” she replied.
“I am an earl too,” he said with a sniff, “and
your
elder. It would be more courteous of you to refer to me as ‘my lord.’”
Her gaze darted to his and she felt indignant, but she only took a soft breath and curtsied again.
“Like most women, I suppose you rely on your charms rather than your manners to bring those around you to heel.”
She raised her chin a bit. “I don’t bring anyone to heel, sir. My lord,” she remembered with a small frown.
He laughed, and his laughter didn’t have a mirthful sound. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” He looked at
Mitchum
, sizing him up. “Run along, boy. I’ll talk to my new daughter-in-law alone.”
Cait’s
gaze flew to
Mitchum’s
in alarm. He looked back at her with an unfathomable look and stood up a little straighter. “I’m not to leave my lady.
Direct orders from my lord, the earl.
For her protection,” he added with a hint of pride.
“Protection?
And what harm will come to her in my company, in full view of the keep and the townspeople below?”
Mitchum
seemed to consider. It would be most impolite for him to contradict the older man’s order, but
Cait
didn’t want him to leave her alone. He looked at
Cait
briefly.
“I beg your pardon, my lord, but I serve the earl.”
She spoke up in his defense. “I’m not permitted to be without a guard no matter what. Or my husband punishes me,” she added, coloring a bit.
“Oh, does he?” That seemed to amuse the earl greatly. “And how does my son punish his wayward wife?”
Cait
bowed her head. “I...I cannot say. I would rather not.”
The earl laughed long and loud then. “You will not say. I see. Aren’t you a sassy bit of a wife?”
“No, sir.
My lord.”
“But I say you are. I can see you are a most insubordinate type. Never mind. Where is my son? I’ll go and find him. I can offer plenty of advice on how to subdue a willful wife. I’ve had enough of them,” he added archly, before turning on his heel and dismissing them both with his broad back.
She stood there, shocked to stillness by his rude behavior. She turned to
Mitchum
, who looked back at her in silent accord.