Matter of time, p.17
Matter of Time, page 17
Brodie trotted by, hand in hand with his wife Rachelle, not looking embarrassed at all by the silly steps he took in the circle. Of course, he never took his eyes from his wife's so he would never know if anyone was taking notice of him or not. Maybe that was the trick, look into Caitlin's eyes and ignore everything else.
Before he could try out his new strategy, the music ended and the dancers separated, most out of breath as he was from the fast pace. He tried to hold onto her hand, but she was pulled from his grasp by a chattering group of young women. As he watched, Caitlin whispered and laughed along with them. She reminded him of his younger sister and her friends when they were in high school.
They'd spent so much time alone together that this was the first time he'd seen her with people her own age, her friends in the village. Their age difference stared him in the face for the first time. Thirty suddenly felt ancient as she stood surrounded by the other girls. Well, it didn't matter since he would be leaving the village soon. Maybe if he was staying, it would be a problem. So, he stood, watching every smile that lit on her face and feeling very much an outsider.
"So, 'tis true?" A large thump on his back caught him unaware. Turning around, he faced the laird.
"Robert," he held out his hand in greeting. "I didn't see you. Is what true?"
"Ye hiv developed tender feelings for that lovely lass over there. 'Tis the talk of the ceilidh."
"It is?" Shaking his head, Douglas wondered how to stall this kind of gossip. He had been too obvious in his behavior tonight.
"Actually, I've heard of it before this night." Robert laughed. "Yer wear a scowl on yer face, Douglas. ‘Twas it to be a secret?"
"Nothing can come of my feelings about Caitlin, as you must realize. And, if I do anything to ruin her standing in the clan, I won't live to return to my own time." He rubbed his face, hearing Pol's words in his mind. I willna hiv her disgraced or embarrassed afore her family and clan.
"So, Pol has made his position on this clear to ye?"
"Absolutely clear." He would have to step back from Caitlin, at least in his dealings with her in public. Rumors of their involvement could make it very difficult when he left and she remained. He had to think this through and watching her in the midst of family and friends made it impossible to do so.
"Robert, I need to leave for a while. Tell Caitlin I'll see her in the morning?"
Robert nodded his understanding and stepped aside. As Douglas passed by, Robert caught his arm.
"I regret that ye canna stay with us and let this relationship with Caitlin proceed. But I think ye do the right thing in keeping it a private matter."
"But, if you already heard of it, then it's not so private."
"Dinna worry, I heard it from a very discreet source. Anice would not spread gossip about that would injure Caitlin, she's too fond of the girl. And, we're both so indebted to her mother that we could do nothing but protect her."
Douglas nodded, not completely convinced of the limited scope of the news. Robert released his arm and he walked out of the great room, not seeing or hearing much else.
Following a long hallway, he turned into the stairwell and climbed to the third level. His room was the second chamber. Taking a candle from the small table, he lit it from a torch in the hall and entered the place he'd been assigned for his stay.
It was really only an antechamber for the larger unused room next to it but it afforded him much more privacy than staying in the men's barracks did. The room was clean and well-kept at the orders of the Lady Anice. And with the brazier lit, it was warm in spite of the swirling November winds outside.
Douglas walked over and stared out the tiny windowpane. From his place, he could see the front gate and most of the courtyard between the keep and the castle wall. And none of this would be there when he returned home.
The castle would be scattered ruins, the village would grow and spread away from this area and be rebuilt many times over the centuries. When he thought of it in those terms, this all seemed incredible. And what about the people?
All of them would be long dead and forgotten when he was home. Moira and Pol, Robert and Anice and Caitlin. With the scarcity of records from that time in history, finding out their fates would be an impossible task. So, they would cease to exist—actually they'd ceased centuries ago.
How had his parents coped with this sense of loss? They'd known many of the same people he'd met in his time here—Moira and Pol, Brodie and Rachelle, Anice and others. He cursed himself for not paying more attention to those bedtime stories.
That's how his parents had coped! By telling those stories over and over, they kept alive the people in them. Like the ancient Egyptians who believed that a person was not truly dead if their name was uttered, Maggie and Alex MacKendimen had never let go of the spirits of those they'd met in their trip to this time. They'd kept their friends alive by talking and telling about them.
He turned away from the window and leaned against the wall. The coldness of the stone seeped through the wool he wore and into his skin. He raked his overgrown hair with his hands and sighed. Who would he tell?
Certainly he could never share the details of this experience with his friends in Chicago. And his medical colleagues would wonder if he hadn't cracked under too much stress. There were always his parents and family, however. They would listen and know the truth of it. He could tell his parents what had become of the friends they'd known.
But who could he tell about Caitlin and what she'd brought to his life in such a short time? About the way his heart felt when she smiled at him with those magic green eyes? About her touch and the chills it sent racing through his blood? About the way his name sounded when she whispered it in the middle of making love.
"Douglas."
He closed his eyes and let the sound of it pass over him. He would never hear his name said that way again after he left her and this time behind. Only in his dreams would he hear her or touch her again.
"Douglas."
Once more he heard her voice and he tried to memorize the sound. Opening his eyes, he looked across the room and into the face of the woman he loved.
Chapter 24
"Are ye unweel, Douglas?"
The tears burning in his throat and eyes prevented him from speaking. He gazed at her, imprinting this vision in his memory so he would never forget. The low light given off by the candle framed her against the darkened hallway behind her. Waves of ebony hair cascaded down over her shoulders all the way to her hips. Her pale skin made even more luminescent and her fiery emerald eyes more shimmery in the candle's flickering glow.
She stepped farther in and pushed the door closed behind her. He finally shook his head at her but she was already too close. If she touched him, he would lose his resolve to do right by her. If she touched him, he might not be able to let her go. Shaking his head again, he stepped back and ended up against the hard stone behind him. He could go no farther.
"Are ye ill? Ye look pale," she whispered as she reached up and touched his forehead—always the healer, always caring. "Ye hiv no fever."
"But I feel like I'm on fire, Caitlin. I feel it every time you touch me or every time you look at me as you did in the cave last night."
His words caused exactly what he was trying to prevent—both of them remembered the passion of the night before. Her mouth opened slightly and he could hear her breath in the silence of the room. She licked her lips and he could feel the slide of that tongue over his skin once more. He became as hard as steel in that instant.
"Douglas, love me again now. Here," she said as she walked to the side of the small, rope-tied bed and tugged on the laces of her blouse.
"But, Caitlin, that's what we need to talk about...."
"Nay, Douglas, no words tonight. I can see in yer eyes what ye wish to tell me but I amna ready to hear it yet." She sat on the narrow bed and gazed at him.
"We shouldn't do this." He was amazed that the words came out at all. Apparently his conscience was still working but definitely losing the battle as his body responded to her words and the hungry look she gifted him with from her place by the bed. They'd made love several times last night—in the pool, on the steam-heated floor and even in the shallow pond—but making love in a bed brought even more erotic images to his mind.
"Do ye love me, Douglas?"
"Yes, Cait, I do. You know that, but—"
She held her hand up to stop his words. "Then love me now afore ye say farewell to me."
"I'm not leaving yet. I still have about six weeks."
"Oh, but ye are. What ye will ask me to do is say goodbye. Ye want us to go our own ways in the next weeks and no' be together as lovers again. Is that no' what ye plan to tell me?"
He looked at her, amazed at her insight. Maybe her mother's mind-reading talent had been passed down as well as the healing?
"It would be for the best." What else could he say?
"And if I dinna want what's best? If I want us to continue as we started last night?"
Why did she have to make this so difficult? He'd like nothing better than to take her in his arms and love her every waking moment until the day when he had to walk through that damned archway and leave her. But that would make leaving even that much more impossible and might lead to other things as well. They had used no protection when they'd made love in the cave last night and he wasn't sure that Moira's visions were enough for his peace of mind. Caitlin seemed convinced but that was no reason for him to be irresponsible and take the chance that he would leave a child behind.
"Then let this be our farewell, Douglas." He saw the stubborn set of her chin and knew he'd not change her mind in this. "Please?" Her voice trembled as she asked again.
How would he ever love any other woman after this one? They were more than lovers—they were soul mates. He felt it through his being. A yearning always to be with her that was destined not to be satisfied. So, just once more....
* * * *
She could tell the moment he gave up fighting this feeling between them. She could feel it tugging him toward her even as she sat on the bed. She untied the laces on her chemise and then loosened the ties holding her skirt in place. When she stood, the skirt slid down her thighs and pooled at her feet.
Douglas swallowed deeply several times as he watched, his eyes as hot as coals, as hungry for her as she was for him. When he stayed as still as a statue, with only his gaze moving over her, she leaned over and gathered the edge of the long chemise. Standing up, she pulled the hem up her body and over her head, leaving her body naked to his stare.
He started fumbling for the edge of his belt and his plaid was soon on the rushes at his feet. It took but a moment for his shirt to join the woolen tartan on the floor. They stood a few paces apart but their souls and hearts would be linked forever. Douglas took the first step that would bring them together.
Opening his arms, he stood before her, inviting her in.
Caitlin stepped into the warmth and love of his embrace. The curly hair on his chest tickled her as he drew her closer. Her breasts already tingled and ached for his touch and her nipples tightened as he rubbed against her. Their bodies touched from chests to bellies to thighs—his hard muscles to her soft curves. She felt his rigid flesh pressing against her and an ache started in the core of her and grew.
Finally he kissed her.
Kiss was too tame a word for the possession he took of her mouth in those few moments. Their lips were open and their tongues danced, tasting and teasing each other as their bodies molded together in a heated embrace. She would die if he didn't touch her soon, she craved the magic his fingers would make on her body. Lifting her mouth from his, she found herself panting from this excitement.
"It is different than in the water."
"Oh, aye, 'tis." She looked into the midnight eyes, enjoying the throbbing that pulsed through her body. "But, I am wet, Douglas."
His eyes flared at her words and he kissed the breath out of her once more. When she thought she would swoon, he released her mouth. His hands that had caressed her back and arms and hips now moved down her belly and into that wet place. His fingers opened her to his touch and she moaned as he finally slipped into those sensitive folds between her legs. Grabbing his shoulders for support, she let her head tilt back and watched him as he awakened the hunger and fire inside her even more.
The tension coiled in her belly and in her chest and she could hardly breathe from it. But, before she could reach that wild crashing place Douglas had taken her to in the cave, he stopped. Easing his hands from her, he bent down and lifted her in his arms. A step or two and he lowered her onto the bed, joining her without hesitation.
"Love me," she begged him, running her hands in his hair and drawing his face to hers.
"I do, Cait. And I will," Douglas answered, lowering his mouth to hers yet again. And, for the next while, he did what she'd asked him to do.
* * * *
"Here, let me do that for ye." She reached for his belt to secure the plaid around his waist. "Ye are taking forever to fasten it."
He chased her hands away from his waist. "I can do this, it just takes me longer than most."
Caitlin turned back and finished her own tucking and adjusting, glancing at him every so often. He might be skilled as a surgeon, but he was the worst she'd ever seen at wrapping the plaid. And his hair, now much longer, kept falling in his face, obscuring his vision.
"At least let me help ye in another way?" He grumbled and then nodded. "Here, sit on the bed."
Caitlin stood to one side of his long legs and took a section of his hair in her hand. Dividing it into sections, she wove it over and under until a well-formed braid began over his one ear. Holding the braid, she pulled a leather strip out of her skirt pocket and asked him to cut it in two with his dagger. She secured the end of the braid with one and then moved to his other side and repeated it.
Douglas shook his head but the hair stayed well back from his face. Smiling, he touched them.
"It was getting harder to keep it out of my eyes. It hasn't ever been this long."
"Now mayhap ye can see to put yer plaid on?"
"Well, I'm not sure that even seeing will help. I have a bit of trouble making it stay on."
"That sounds interesting. So ye hiv haid mishaps?"
"Mishaps... a good word. I call them humiliating moments myself." They laughed and she helped him with the unwieldy length of wool. Soon, it was wrapped securely around his waist and over his shoulder.
As she finished, he took her hand and entwined their fingers together. Kissing it gently, he looked at her with those resignation-filled eyes.
"I love you, Cait, and I'll always remember you."
Tears threatened and she brushed her eyes to clear them. "We hiv plenty of time for farewells, Douglas. Dinna make me greet like a bairn now." There would be time enough for crying later, after he was gone and when all she had were the memories.
"I'm sorry, love. Shall we go back to the party and you can help me trip through another dance?"
He swung open the door to his chamber and pulled her along the hallway toward the stairs. Down the steps and to the great room they went and music and loud chatter greeted them as they entered. He dropped her hand as they walked into the ceilidh but they remained close together. The piper and drummer began another song and she looked to Douglas for his consent. At his nod, they took their places in the circle for another round.
He was much better at dancing than at wrapping the plaid. He did have a certain male grace in spite of his protests that he could not follow the steps. Laughing through the movements, they left the dancers and stopped at one of the tables holding the refreshments. Pouring a mug of ale for each of them, Caitlin stood panting as her breath returned to normal.
She turned with her hands full and faced Craig.
"Craig, I didna see ye here."
"Ye canna see anything but him," Craig answered, his belligerence clear.
"Him? Ye mean Douglas? He was my partner in the dance."
Caitlin placed one of the mugs back on the table. Pushing her hair back off the sweaty plane of her forehead, she drank deeply from the other mug. Douglas was still speaking to one of the men at the table.
"He is yer partner in more than that, Caitlin. I saw ye." Craig's voice rose and the surrounding crowd quieted. "Haes he made ye his whore?"
She gasped at the insult. Her face burned as she realized that those all around had heard his words. She wanted to strike out but held back. Craig was drunk and 'twould best be handled quietly.
"Craig, ye hiv drank too much ale this evening. Mayhap yer brother can help ye to yer chamber?" She nodded at young Struan and the boy started forward.
"I dinna need help," he shook off his younger brother's hold. "'Tis true, then? Ye wouldna give yerself to me and I promised ye marriage. I am the tanist, in line to sit at the head of the clan. But ye threw yerself at this outlander. He came here for his own reasons, used ye and will leave ye behind when he goes."
Caitlin looked around at her friends and family. Their red faces showed their embarrassment at being forced to hear this. She looked for Douglas and saw him nearby. He stood like a statue, his face was rigid. She noticed his jaw and fists clenched in time as was his habit when vexed. But he didn't speak.
"Was it because of what happened in the woods that night?" He was yelling, his deep voice carrying throughout the hall. She looked around for someone to intervene but there was no one.
"Craig, I told ye I understand about what ye did that night." She tried to take him by the arm to lead him out of the room to privacy but he shook her off as he had his brother.
"Oh, Caitlin, I offered ye marriage and you held back from me. Does he offer ye the same?"
