An Enemy at the Highland Court
The Highland Ladies Book Five
Celeste Barclay
An Enemy at the Highland Court Copyright © 2020 by Celeste Barclay. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by Lisa Messegee, The Write Designer
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Celeste Barclay
Visit my website at www.celestebarclay.com
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: June 2020
Celeste Barclay
Kindle Digital Edition
To those who have found love with the most unlikely of partners.
Happy reading, y'all,
Celeste
The Highland Ladies
A Spinster at the Highland Court
A Spy at the Highland Court (De Wolfe Connected World/Series Companion)
A Wallflower at the Highland Court
A Rogue at the Highland Court
A Rake at the Highland Court
An Enemy at the Highland Court
A Saint at the Highland Court (July 2020)
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Epilogue
Thank you for reading An Enemy at the Highland Court
The Highland Ladies
Pirates of the Isles
The Clan Sinclair
Viking Glory
Chapter One
A crack of thunder followed only moments later by a blaze of lightning made several ladies-in-waiting jump within the queen’s solar. The early autumn storm seemed to rattle one’s bones as much as it did the window embrasures. Cairren Kennedy glanced around Queen Elizabeth’s private salon and stifled her chuckle as the newest ladies-in-waiting trembled. Mostly Lowlanders, these young ladies were not yet accustomed to the raging storms the Highlands flung upon Stirling from the north. Cairren arrived at Robert the Bruce’s court three years earlier as a wide-eyed and quiet girl. But in the time she’d spent there, she’d developed a thick skin and a significant cynicism. As she watched the newer arrivals, she wished she could return to her days before becoming a lady-in-waiting to Elizabeth de Burgh. It had been just over a year since her best friend, Allyson Elliot, married Ewan Gordon and moved to the Highlands. During that year, Cairren awaited the announcement of her own betrothal, and with each passing month, she found her mood increasingly matched the weather outside.
Cairren received a hint from her father around the time of Allyson’s wedding that he was in the midst of arranging a betrothal to a Highlander, but he’d volunteered no specifics. Cairren suspected that news came several prospective suitors ago. Growing up near the border, with constant strife between the Scots and the English, made life among the contentious Highlanders seem peaceful. While her clan’s land sat along the coast, their allies were the Dunbars and Armstrongs, which meant the two border clans often called upon the Kennedys to lend warriors to the cause. She understood her father wanted her away from the ever-shifting political dynamics that were a daily part of life in the south. However, moving to the Highlands sight unseen terrified her. She was blessed with a doting father who always had her best interests at heart, but she couldn’t help but wonder how he thought the Highlands were a better option. She’d rather move to her mother’s people in southern France. At least there, she would blend in.
“Lady Cairren,” Queen Elizabeth’s voice drew Cairren out of her pensiveness, forcing her to abandon her thoughts. “Please pick up where you left off yesterday.”
Cairren retrieved the vellum copy of Summa contra Gentiles from the table upon which she’d laid it the day before. With a slight French lilt to her voice, Cairren was among the queen’s favorites to read aloud. She was also one of the few women who read fluently. She accepted that the queen had committed her to an hour of droning prose on providence and the soul. While she was as devout as the next person, Cairren swallowed her sigh as she prepared to read the divine insights of Thomas Aquinas. As she settled onto a stool, a page entered the solar and whispered to the Mistress of the Bedchamber who, in turn, cast an eye at Cairren.
“Your Majesty, I beg your pardon, but Lady Cairren has been summoned to see her father and mother, who are newly arrived,” the Mistress of the Bedchamber announced, all eyes swinging to Cairren.
Cairren froze. It was rare for her parents to visit court, so it was with trepidation that she laid aside the manuscript and rose. Awaiting the queen’s permission to leave, her stomach twisted into a knot that would have made a sailor proud. She could think of only two reasons for Innes and Collette Kennedy to travel during a week’s worth of torrential downpours: news of death or her betrothal. If asked, Cairren would have said they were one and the same. At the queen’s nod, Cairren did her best to maintain her poise and glide from the salon. Once in the passageway, she gathered her skirts and darted to her parents’ chamber. Fear that something had happened to her sister, Caitlyn, prompted her to hurry, but anxiousness that it might be news of a betrothal caused her to slow her pace two doors down from the Kennedys’ suite.
Cairren knocked but didn’t wait for an invitation to enter, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Her parents turned as one, opening their arms to her, and she was certain she flew across the chamber rather than walked. The relief she felt each time she reunited with her family stole her breath away. She’d learned to manage her homesickness by reminding herself that she co
uldn’t change the duty she served to her queen and her clan, but in moments like this, her loneliness flooded every nerve. Her mother’s familiar scent of myrtle, from her hometown in the south of France, soothed the ache in Cairren’s chest. Her father’s pine and fresh air scent reminded her of the countless hours of her childhood spent touring villages on the back of his horse.
“Maman, Papa,” Cairren breathed.
“Ma petite fille.” My little girl. The three words Collette said no longer applied to a woman of three-and-twenty, but Cairren’s mother had called her that since the day of her birth. “Comment ça va?”
“Everything is going well, Maman. I’m so happy to see you.” Cairren turned her cheek one way, then the other, to receive her mother’s customary kisses before Innes engulfed her in an embrace that lifted her toes from the floor.
“My wee lassie, it does my heart good to see you,” Innes’s deep voice rumbled against Cairren’s chest before he settled her back on her feet.
“You both seem in good spirits, so I assume all is well at home.” Cairren looked between her parents, praying she hadn’t presumed the wrong meaning to their warm welcome.
“All is as well as to be expected, with the bluidy English breathing down our necks every two minutes. They seem to have forgotten that there is a truce,” Innes grumbled. “Your sister sends her regards and is quite put out with me since I refused to allow her to accompany us.”
Cairren hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until her chest suddenly deflated. However, this meant there could only be one other reason for her parents to travel from the southwestern corner of Scotland to Stirling, which formed the boundary between the Lowlands and the Highlands. She held her breath once more as she waited for the axe to drop.
“There’s no reason to look as though the headsman is after you,” Collette’s gentle smile only made Cairren more nervous.
“Oui, Maman.” Cairren forced her own smile, but she could tell it was more of a grimace when her father straightened and his stern “Laird of Clan Kennedy” expression settled upon his face.
“I ken you’ve deduced why we’ve come, but there’s naught to frown aboot,” Innes’s voice sounded far from reassuring. Instead, it sounded like an order.
“Papa, I don’t mean to frown, but the unknown is frightening,” Cairren confessed, and her father’s paternal smile returned.
“I ken that, lass. But we must all grow up, and we must all move from one duty to another. You’ve loyally served the queen for nigh on three years. It is time for you to move on.”
“Who is he, Papa, and how far north does he live?” Cairren asked, but dreaded the answer.
“His name is Padraig Munro. He’s the second son of the Munro laird and he’s the same age as you,” Innes explained.
“Munro? They are in the heart of the Highlands. That’s so far from you and Maman and Caitlyn. I’ll never see any of you or the clan again.” Cairren fought the tears that burned the back of her eyelids, but gave in when a sob rose from deep within her soul.
“Ma chérie, pas de panique.”
“‘My dear, don’t panic’ doesn’t make me feel better, Maman. How can I not panic? Not only is it far from everyone and everything I know, they’re Highlanders. They’ll never accept me.” Cairren closed her eyes as she tried to do as her mother instructed, but the nausea proved she was failing. “I don’t look aught like them. I can’t even pass for a Lowlander. How will I manage in the Highlands when I’m still learning Gaelic and I look like a foreigner?”
Cairren stuck out her arm, showing her parents what they already knew was there. Her olive complexion was in constant contrast to the lily-white skin that was the norm in Scotland. Her maternal grandfather’s Arab traits still showed strongly in Collette and her oldest daughter. Cairren had always thought it was a blessing that Caitlyn’s skin was lighter and didn’t tan as easily as Cairren’s. Her sister fared a better chance of making a match with a man who would want her.
“You’ve made a place here for yourself because you are good and kind,” Innes reassured her.
“Barely. It took nearly a year before most of the ladies didn’t whisper in front of me. Now they only do it behind my back. They allow me in their circle because the queen demands it, but if they had their choice, they would exclude me. Now that Allyson’s married, there are only a few who bother to remain pleasant. Only Blair Sutherland and Arabella Johnstone are willing to be my friends.” Cairren forced herself to stop. She hadn’t meant to divulge the truth about her loneliness at court, but she needed her parents to understand why marrying her to a Highlander would be a disaster.
“Lass, it’s done. Laird Munro and I have already signed the documents.”
“So, I am already betrothed. I am as good as married,” Cairren’s despondency must have shown because her parents pulled her back into their embrace. “Why him?”
“The king chose, Cairren. He knows I want to get you away from the border.”
“And the Munros are the only ones who would take me.” Cairren pulled away from her parents. “How desperate are they for my dowry?” Cairren suspected her father had been in contact with a dozen clans, but the Munros must have been the only ones who showed an interest. More likely, forced their hand.
“A bride’s dowry always comes in handy,” Innes offered. The noncommittal nature of his answer said more than his words.
“Do they know that their new wealth comes with a brown bride?” Cairren crossed her arms but refrained from tapping her toe.
“Of course they are aware of your ancestry, ma petite fille,” Collette reassured.
“But that doesn’t mean they know what I look like.”
“Are you ashamed of your family?” Innes cocked an eyebrow.
“Never.” Cairren’s answer was emphatic, but she followed it by whispering, “That doesn’t mean I can’t be scared of what they think.”
Cairren’s tears started once again. Collette led Cairren to a chair before the fire as Innes stoked it. Both women were slight in build and could share the wide chair. Cairren leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder as Collette stroked her hair.
“I fell hopelessly in love with your mother,” Innes reminded Cairren. “Your mother’s skin color is only one part of her; it’s the whole, inside and out, that is so beautiful.”
“But you chose one another. I’ll be delivered to a mon who has no choice but to take me,” Cairren buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.
“Cairren,” Collette’s French accent softened the middle consonants and once more soothed Cairren’s fraught nerves. “It wasn’t easy for me in the beginning either. It took time for our people to accept me, to accept their laird’s son’s choice of bride. Your grand-père disapproved of me on sight. But with hard work and an open heart, I won our clan over. Now I can’t imagine living anywhere but on Kennedy land.”
Cairren nodded, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. Why couldn’t you just send me to France where I could marry? I speak French as well as anyone born there. I wouldn’t stick out there. Caitlyn belongs in this world more than I do. Her marriage could solidify an alliance. My move to France and her marriage would remove us both from the border area. The difference between you and me, Maman, is you married the laird’s heir. I’m marrying a second son. He won’t hold the same power to demand they accept me.
“We will accompany you north and remain for the wedding. We depart in two days for Foulis. It’ll take us a sennight to travel. We will hold the wedding within a sennight of our arrival,” Innes explained. Cairren recognized the hard edge to her father’s voice signaling her time to air her grievances had ended, and he wouldn’t entertain any more of her complaints.
“We will speak later, ma petite fille,” Collette reassured, and there was little else Cairren could do but nod.
Chapter Two
Cairren eased into her seat at the ladies’ table as the evening meal began. She’d remained with her parents throughout the aftern
oon, hearing stories and the latest news from their clan. Her mood lightened as she listened to her mother regaling tales of Caitlyn’s continued attempts make perfume. Collette Aubert hailed from the Grasse region, the area of France best known for its perfumes and soaps. Her father had been an Arab trader shipwrecked along the southern French coast when his Moroccan ship bound for Italy was blown off course during a storm. Collette’s mother, Marie-Claude, was already a widow and was willing to take the foreigner in while he recovered.
As Collette had recounted countless times, her parents’ love story was much like Innes and Collette’s—love at first sight. Ebrahim Boukhriss traded myrrh and frankincense from the Lovat region to cities along the Mediterranean, so settling in Grasse was ideal. Collette described him as a quiet man who would have barely come to Innes’s shoulders. He was shrewd and bookish, which made it easy to expand Marie-Claude’s soap and perfume trade. While Cairren had inherited her maternal grandfather’s olive skin, almond-shaped eyes, and deep chestnut hair, she’d inherited her paternal grandmother’s translucent grey eyes. There was a tinge of green that made them appear silver at times. She and her sister shared this feature, and it was the indisputable proof that Innes was their father.
An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5) Page 1
