“The baby lives,” Edana finally said. Duncan exhaled in relief. “You are four months along, Cait, if not more. It is not Douglas’s child. This child was conceived of your husband long before that blackguard stole you away.”
It is not Douglas’s child. It is not Douglas’s child. Cait smiled. It was their child, half-Duncan, half-Cait, just as it should be. She wanted to tell them how happy she was, how pleased, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was, “I’m tired.”
“You must eat,” said Henna. “Do not sleep until you’ve had a good meal. Think of the babe.”
Her eyes closed as she felt Duncan’s arms come around her. She didn’t need food or drink. She just needed him.
* * * * *
Duncan looked down at his wife’s exhausted features. He could feel her body relax into sleep.
“Poor creature,” said Henna. “Poor, poor creature. She’ll never forgive me. She won’t. She shouldn’t!”
“She will,” said Duncan. “She would never blame you. Knowing Cait, she blames herself for all of this.” He brushed her damp hair back from her cheek. “I am the one to blame. This was all my fault.”
“I will stay,” said Edana suddenly. “I will stay some time and help her heal.”
Henna and Duncan exchanged glances. “There is no need, Edana. Henna can tend to her.”
“I mean her mind, not her body. Her mind is unwell. As is yours,” she added, looking at Duncan. “I will stay until I know my daughter is better.”
Duncan frowned. “As you wish.”
“I will not steal her away from you, if that’s what your dark looks are all about. She possesses more power than I suspected, but the life of a priestess is not for her.”
“Power?” Duncan echoed. But looking down at her in his arms, he knew exactly of what she spoke.
Chapter Sixteen
Duncan jerked awake to the sound of Cait’s screams, and gathered her up for the second time that night.
Edana had been right. Cait’s mind was troubled, even though she tried to pretend she was perfectly fine. Little by little, after sleep and healing, she had risen from her bed and gone about her life with an endearingly plucky determination to “forget about that horrible man.” By day she did many of the same things she used to. She roamed the town, tended the gardens, even walked on the beach. But at night, it was clear to Duncan that she still suffered. At night, when she slept, Lord Douglas came to her in her dreams.
“Shh, shh..” he crooned, waiting patiently for her to stop struggling, to realize it was him holding her and not his father. As soon as she did, she curled against him with that familiar relieved sigh.
God, he hated that she hurt.
Edana had left recently, promising to return at high summer for the birth of the babe. He had to admit she had been very wise at healing. She had spent long hours talking and bonding with her daughter. Edana was responsible for the positive changes he saw in Cait, the new confidence and strength of will. He knew Edana was no small part of the reason Cait seemed so calm and adjusted after her ordeal, at least during the day. It was certainly no doing of his. He had been so agitated and cowed by the damage done to her he had avoided her, giving her over to Edana every morning in relief. Henna slunk about as guiltily as Duncan. But Cait, she was so strong. She took it all in with clear eyes and an innocent heart and truly seemed content to let it all go.
Until she slept.
Their nights, which used to be a dream world of intimacy and pleasure, were transformed into trials for them both. He could not even think about reaching out to her in lust, although he burned beside her as he always had. She awoke with screams, and he awoke with an intense arousal that he did his best to hide. Her body tempted him mercilessly. Her curves rounded out as she regained her appetite and the sickness of her early pregnancy eased away. There was a pronounced curve to her belly now that he longed to kiss and caress, and her breasts...they would fill his hands if he could only touch them as he craved.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t touch her in any way that a man touched his woman. He couldn’t bear to touch her and feel her pull away from him in disgust, or even worse, fear. So they went on much as they had in the beginning, him avoiding her as much as possible except in the night, when they lay miserable and uneasy next to one another in bed.
He had wanted to ask Edana her advice, but in the end he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t admit that he even desired to use his wife, much less ask her advice on how best to go about it. No, he couldn’t. For now, he would have to go without. He didn’t deserve her anyway.
And she was pregnant, he reminded himself. The only thing that was important right now was Cait’s well-being, her health and the babe’s. If and when his wife ever wanted him again in that capacity, she could make the overtures herself.
* * * * *
Cait walked heavily up the hill to the orchard. It seemed an age ago that she’d snuck here to get his attention and ended up turned over his lap. Silly, childish games, she thought, from when she was still young and innocent. She was not innocent now. She never would be again.
Duncan knew it. He didn’t even want her anymore, now that she was so used. He didn’t deign to even touch her. In bed, he held himself away even though he soothed her fears. He probably wished she’d move back into her old room and not plague him with nightmares all night long, but she couldn’t sleep so far away from him. She would put up with his carefully cultivated distance, with his restrained touch, if only to sleep there next to him and know he was only an arm’s length away.
As she drew nearer to her favored tree, she looked over at Desmond. He bit his lip and avoided her gaze. Even her guards tiptoed around her now. Before, he would have warned her that her husband didn’t like her climbing up in trees. Now he just frowned and kept his silence. Their behavior—Duncan’s, Henna’s, her guards’—did nothing more than remind her what had happened, again and again. She scowled, looking away from him.
Only Edana treated her like a real person since her return, and she was gone now. Edana. She couldn’t call her mother, and she didn’t think Edana wanted her to. She was not much like a mother anyway, more like a wise friend. She had made Cait feel for the first time that she was not worthless, that she was not ugly and unwanted. She looked like Edana, and Edana was truly beautiful, so she must be too, at least a little. And Edana, her mother, was a great priestess. At least some of that intelligence and poise must run in her veins.
“Don’t forget that you have great power of your own, my love,” Edana had told her.
“Power? What kind of power?” Cait asked doubtfully.
“The power of a warm and innocent heart. I am not innocent, nor could I ever be, but you have the ability to look at the world through clear eyes, unfiltered by guise and pride and scheming. It is a gift, my dear, and not many have it.”
“It doesn’t do me much good, honestly.”
Edana had laughed at that, but it was true. She looked through her clear eyes at her husband, but he avoided her gaze. She looked at Henna and she skittered away. She looked at her guards and they averted their eyes. No one wanted to see what was there.
So be it. She would have a baby to care for soon. Her baby would love to stare into her eyes and smile and tug at her hair as she’d seen the other babies do to their mamas. Her baby wouldn’t know or care what Lord Douglas had done to her.
She reached the tree she loved most, with all the good broad branches for climbing. She could sit low and still feel she was hidden in a secret place, or she could climb high and be safely supported by the strong boughs. She felt like really climbing high today.
Desmond cleared his throat as she hoisted herself up into the cradle of the twisted trunk to climb onto the first branch.
“Lady, you should not climb in your...your condition.”
“I can climb just fine.”
“Your husband will not like it.”
“Won’t he? Then he can come and get me down.” If h
e cares about me, let him come.
She didn’t climb as high as she might have, because Desmond was eyeing her, coughing and frowning and scowling the higher she climbed. She made herself comfortable in a seat between two large boughs and looked around. She could see the keep, the grounds, everything from this vantage point. Spring had not quite arrived, no leaves yet bloomed.
“Can you see me, Desmond, or do the branches hide me?”
“I can see you fine, ma’am.” He frowned up at her, muttering something about how it would be his neck if she fell, just loudly enough for her to hear. Well, she would not fall. She was an expert climber. She had been her entire life. She’d been raised in a forest, she wanted to remind him, but she kept her silence.
She sat for several minutes looking around, wishing there were apples to pick, before she noticed Duncan start across the field. She probably could have eaten a dozen apples. Her appetite lately was unmatched. But there weren’t any now, nor any green leaves to hide herself, so she just waited and watched through the branches as her husband came near.
He was so comely, so handsome. Even the way he walked affected her. She remembered him crossing the bedroom to her with that walk. Intent, strong, focused. He looked a lot like Lord Douglas, but at the same time, nothing like him, because his eyes were so kind. Even now, when his face looked angry, his eyes were gentle, not cold and horrid like his father’s.
When he arrived, he dismissed Desmond with some short words and crossed his arms, glaring up from under the tree. “Come down, Caitlyn. Immediately.”
She should obey, shouldn’t she? She looked down at him, at his broad shoulders, his stern expression.
“I don’t really want to. I like it up here.”
“That may be so, but if you do not climb down from that tree this instant I will spank your disobedient bottom, six months pregnant or not.”
She shifted on the hard branch. He hadn’t touched her like that in weeks. He hadn’t spanked her or caressed her or given her his seed. She swung her legs and picked at some bark.
“If you want me, I suppose you can climb up here and haul me down.”