Cait and the Devil

“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.