The next few days passed in a blur of blinding joy for Caitlyn. Though in fact it rained almost without ceasing, she felt as if the sun shone down upon her all the time. The only fly in her ointment was that Connor, prompted by conscience and Father Patrick, refused to continue his lessons in lovemaking until she was legally made his wife. Despite this prohibition and its ensuing frustrations, Connor, too, was unprecedentedly jovial. His brothers observed him with wary amazement as he took even the most maddening happenstance with calm good humor.
Wherever Connor was, Caitlyn was usually nearby. She followed him about the farm, assisting him when she could or more often just admiring as he went about doing whatever was necessary for the running of the farm. He was strong and skilled, a far better sheep farmer than any of his brothers, and she watched with unalloyed pleasure when, stripped to the waist, he would single-handedly throw and tie a sheep or lift one to the cart for market. The play of muscles beneath his bronzed skin could hold her transfixed for hours. Her adoration of him was apparent to all, and the object of much good-natured ribbing from his brothers whenever Connor himself was not about to take umbrage on her behalf. Caitlyn took their jesting in good measure. She did adore Connor, and now that they were to be wed, she didn't care who knew it.
For the first time in her life she developed an interest in her wardrobe. Connor insisted that she be married in a proper wedding dress, and she discovered to her surprise that there was distinct pleasure to be gained from poring over patterns. With not quite three weeks until her wedding day, she selected a simple design with a high neck and long, tight sleeves to be made up in shimmery white silk. From a trunk in the attic she unearthed a fine lace veil, and that along with a white rosary that had belonged to Connor's mother completed her outfit. Connor rode with her to the village, where Mrs. Bannion, the local seamstress, took all her measurements and promised to have the dress ready for a fitting in a week. While in the village, which she had visited frequently since she had come to live with the d'Arcys, Caitlyn learned that she had become the focus of all attention. Mrs. McFee had trumpeted the news of his lordship's shocking engagement to the world, and the world turned out to stare.
"I feel like a two-headed calf," she said with some ruefulness to Connor as he reached up to lift her from the saddle on their return to the stable at Donoughmore. She could dismount perfectly well herself, of course, but Connor was increasingly solicitous of her as their wedding day approached, and she was not about to object to anything that gave him an excuse to put his hands on her. It had been nigh on ten days now since he had introduced her to the sins of the flesh, and she was growing increasingly impatient to experience them again.
"You don't look like one," Connor said with a smile as he set her on her feet. Caitlyn allowed her hands to linger on his hard shoulders, which were damp from the drizzle they had ridden through. Though she had worn a cloak, he had disdained one, and moisture gleamed on his buff coat and black hair. His shirt and breeches were splotched from the wet, and his boots had flecks of mud all the way up to their high tops. They stood so close their bodies brushed, her hands on his shoulders, his on her waist beneath the cloak. She had thrown back her hood before he reached up for her, and her long hair, secured only by a blue ribbon at the nape, tumbled in a soft mass down her back.
"I wish we were wed already," she said, her eyes and voice wistful. His hands tightened on her waist, and he pulled her a step closer. Her breasts in their prim bodice were pressed against his chest. His eyes slid down to her mouth, to where her breasts swelled against him, then back up to her eyes.
His smile widened, then crooked. "Ah, now that's quite an admission. Did I not tell you that you'd like lovemaking?"
She let go of one shoulder to give him a soft, playful smack on the cheek. Her hand lingered, enjoying the just slightly abrasive feel of his jaw. Although he had shaved that morn, bristles were already making their presence known again.
"Aye, you did, you conceited creature."
"Was I wrong, then?"
She eyed him. There was a glint in those aqua eyes that excited her. Her hand slid sideways across that bristly- skinned jaw so that her thumb just touched the edge of his mouth.
"No, you weren't wrong," she assured him, dropping her eyes and then flicking a veiled look up at him. The glint in his eyes brightened while the centers went dark. Caitlyn felt her heartbeat quicken. His skin beneath her hand seemed to heat. Her thumb moved, stroked the line where his lips joined.
His lips parted, drew her thumb into his mouth. Gently his teeth bit down on the edge of her thumb. Caitlyn's breath caught on a little gasp. She watched him nibble on her thumb and felt her knees weaken. Then she pulled her thumb away, going up on tiptoe to press her lips to his mouth. It was firm and warm beneath her lips, faintly moist from where he had nibbled on her thumb. His hands on-her waist tightened, and she could feel the tension in him. Still he made no move to do what she wished.
"Just a kiss, Connor," she coaxed against that unyielding mouth. His lips parted slightly as he drew an unsteady breath.
"Oh, aye. Just a kiss.'Tis easy for you to say," he muttered, but he was unable to resist her blandishments any longer. He pulled her so close against him that she could feel every muscle and sinew of his hard body. She could feel the man part of him huge and insistent against her, feel the racing of his heart, the faint tremors that shook the arms that held her. Her arms went around his neck, her hands in his hair, and she kissed him again with hungry passion, reveling in the taste and feel of his mouth. With a quick, unsteady indrawing of breath, he slanted his mouth across hers, his lips and tongue hard and greedy as they took her mouth with an urgency that left her gasping. Caitlyn felt as if her bones would melt from the heat of his mouth.
"Enough of that, now." He put her away from him so suddenly that she had to clutch at his shoulders for balance. His voice was hoarse, his eyes afire with need, but the hands that held her from him were hard and steady.
"Connor!" she moaned.
"We'll wait till we're wed."
"Three weeks!"
" 'Tis not an eternity. You're to be my wife, and I'll not treat you like a doxy in the meantime."
"But I want you to treat me like a doxy! As long as 'tis you, I don't mind at all!" They'd had this argument before, and his insistence on being noble made her want to stamp her foot with frustration.
He frowned down at her. "You're not helping, you know."
"If we're to be wed, I don't see what difference it makes whether or not we wait for the actual official ceremony. In the eyes of God, I consider us already husband and wife. Do you not, Connor?" This argument, which had occurred to her on the spur of the moment, was so perfect that she had to restrain a triumphant smile. Let him get around that, if he could!
"I…"
"Yer lordship! Are ye about? I've news! There's- Oh. Sorry." Mickeen burst into the stable, looking excited about something, then stopped dead as he saw Caitlyn in Connor's arms. He frowned, discomfort and disapproval plain on his face. Like Mrs. McFee, Mickeen felt that Caitlyn was no fit wife for the Lord Earl of Iveagh.
" 'Tis all right, Mickeen. We're through here. Why don't you go on up to the house, puss, and change out of those wet shoes, and let me get some business conducted for a change?" This last was addressed with mock gruffness to Caitlyn as he released his hold on her waist and, with his hand on her rear, gave her a little shove toward the stable door. Caitlyn, charmed at this bit of impudent familiarity, smiled saucily at him over her shoulder as she obediently started to take herself off.
" 'Tis gold, yer lordship! Gold!"
These words, uttered in a fervent tone by Mickeen, assailed Caitlyn's ears before she was well outside the stable. Her attention caught, she stopped to listen, stepping to the side just beyond the open door so that she was out of Connor's view, should he chance to look. Even standing as she was beneath the protecting eaves, fine particles of moisture showered her, but she pulled her hood over her head, wrapped her cloak around herself, and ignored the rain as she listened shamelessly.
"What are you talking about, Mickeen?"
" 'Tis a payment to the treasury from the Blaskets! 'Tis coming overland to Dublin, and it should pass through Naas this very night! 'Tis a great secret, but I know a lad who knows a lad whose brother ferried a Sassenach gent and his supposed family from the islands to the mainland in his curragh before dawn three moms ago. He was not supposed to look inside the party's bags, but he did because the bloody things were so unaccountable heavy they nigh swamped him. 'Twas not a lady's wardrobe as he had thought that was weighing him down so! 'Twas trunks of gold-a fortune, he said! 'Tis said that the government hopes to avoid the possibility of robbery by moving the shipment in great secret, without any fanfare, you know, as if 'twere just a gent and his wife going on a little trip! There are to be no outriders at all, says the lad I know."
"They left the Blaskets at dawn three days ago?" Connor was frowning, deep in thought.
"Aye. And the lad I know says he understood that they would be putting up at an inn in Naas tonight. The way I figure it, they should be coming into Naas just after midnight, or thereabouts."
"Naas is a good bit away from here."
"Aye."
Connor was silent for a moment, thinking, while Mickeen watched him eagerly. A grin began to play about the corners of Connor's mouth. "How very interesting, to be sure!"
Mickeen grinned back at him. "Aye, I thought you'd think so."
Caitlyn could stay silent no longer. Shaking her hood back, she emerged from her hiding place to stand with hands on hips as she eyed Connor sternly. "And just what do you think you're about?"
He looked at her, his eyes narrowing. Mickeen gave her a disgusted glare.
"You were sent to the house." The charming man who had patted her rear had disappeared. She knew this Connor too. He was formidable, but she did not fear him. Not in the least!
"Aye, but I did not go. Pray tell me just what is so interesting about a shipment of gold?"
" 'Tis nothing to do with you. Go change your shoes."
She frowned at him. " I won't be sent away like a child, Connor. You mean to ride after that gold, don't you?"
"Hush, now!" This was Mickeen, looking around in alarm. Fortunately, except for the three of them, the stable and yard were deserted.
"And if I do?"
"Then I want to go too!"
"Don't be daft." His brusque response halted her in her tracks. She glared at him, arms crossing over her chest.
"If we're to be wed, then we're to be partners. I go where you go."
"The hell you do!"
"I want to go, Connor!"
"No! And there's an end to it! I'll not discuss it further." He came toward her as he spoke, catching her arm and turning her about. "Now go up to the house and change your shoes. I'll see you at supper. Surely you can find something to keep yourself occupied until then!"
"Women's work?" Caitlyn sneered at him over her shoulder. "You'll not fob me off with that! I can help
you-"
"Damn it to hell and back!" Connor roared in a voice that made Caitlyn jump. "I'll have none of your talk of helping! Whatever I choose to do or not to do, you'll stay at home where you belong! Is that quite clear?" His hand on her arm tightened angrily before releasing its grip.
"No, it is not!" Caitlyn said, turning on him so swiftly that her skirts belled out around her. "If you think that just because we're to be wed I'll dance to your tune, think again, Connor d'Arcy!"
"You'll do as I bid you!"
"I'll not!"
"You will!"
"Not! And you can't make me!"
"Oh, can't I, now? We'll see about that, my lass!"
"What are you going to do, beat me?" It was an effective taunt, because she knew he'd never harm her. They were standing nose to nose now, shouting, just inside the stable. The drizzle blew in to shower Caitlyn with every gust of wind. Their noise attracted Cormac and Rory, who had been busy in the sheep barn. The two younger d'Arcys saw what was happening and came slogging across the muddy yard, grinning as they watched the battling pair.
"So much for wedded bliss," Cormac muttered to Rory, but Connor heard and turned on him.
"You keep your tongue between your teeth! And you"- he turned back to Caitlyn-"will do as you're bid! I'll not have a headstrong, hoydenish lass to wife!"
"Oh, will you not? Then perhaps you'll not have me to wife!"
"Perhaps I won't!"
"Take your bloody ring back then and be damned to you!" Angered past the point of reason, Caitlyn yanked the ring from her finger and hurled it at him. He caught it before it could hit his face, dark angry blood rising in his cheekbones as he glared at her. She turned on her heel and stalked from the stable, jerking the hood of her cloak over her head to keep out the worst of the rain as she went.
"Now that we're no longer affianced, I'll do as I bloody well please!" she hissed over her shoulder in parting. Then she stomped off toward the house.
"You'll watch your mouth, is what you'll do! I'll not have any wife of mine swearing like a bloody dragoon!" Connor came after her, unmindful of the rain, rage blazing in his eyes. Catching a glimpse of him over her shoulder, Caitlyn began to run, lifting her skirts with a muttered oath to keep them out of the slippery mud. He ran after her, reaching her before she made it halfway to the house and scooping her up in his arms.
"Let me go!" she screeched, beating at him with her fists.
"Not in this life," he said through his teeth and carried her into the house.
Left behind in the shelter of the stable, Cormac and Rory exchanged knowing glances. Then Mickeen came up to them, and the three lowered their heads as he told them about the gold.