Padraig noticed Cairren looked straight ahead, as if she didn’t notice the surrounding people, but her eyes weren’t locked on him. Instead, they appeared vacant, as though she saw nothing, as though she wasn’t present in the moment. It was disconcerting as she drew closer. When she stopped before the steps, she curtseyed to his bow, but she seemed far away. When she placed her hand in his, Padraig squeezed it gently, and her trance disappeared. Her eyes swept the crowd, and Padraig felt ill as once more fear haunted Cairren’s eyes. He regretted drawing her back to reality.
“Look at me, lass,” Padraig whispered as he squeezed her hand again. Cairren lifted her gaze to Padraig’s as she swallowed. It was as though she registered his presence for the first time. Her eyes swept over him, taking in the crisp leine and ceremonial plaid. He’d polished his boots, and the dirks he sheathed at his waist. Even though the sheaths hid the blades, their handles shone. For a reason he dared not entertain, he’d wanted to look his best for Cairren. Her eyes met his, and her gaze softened as she noticed the strands that were darker from still being damp. He’d shaven, and she seemed to appreciate the smooth skin. If nothing else, Padraig realized, she approved of his appearance.
He more than approved of hers. She appeared exquisite in a gown that clung to her like someone poured her into it, drawing the eye to the most enticing parts of her body. While he could only see her front, he suspected the gown would hang close enough to her bottom to hint at what lay beneath, just as the gown did over her breasts. His mind flashed to the sight of Cairren in the soaked chemise and his first glimpse at the dark nipples unlike any he’d yet seen. His arousal stirred yet again as he recalled the vision of loveliness that she was when naked. He sported what seemed like a permanent cockstand since Cairren arrived at Foulis. No woman had such a visceral effect on Padraig. He forced his eyes away from devouring his bride, letting them sweep his clan members before landing on Myrna. Her blond hair shone like spun gold as she stood beside Mary. Defiance radiated from the glare she fixed on Cairren. The hard set of her mouth and chin detracted from her beauty. Once more, Padraig considered how he’d been convinced that no woman existed who was lovelier than Myrna, but now he held hands with one.
Cairren’s shift away from him brought his attention back to her, and he realized she’d caught him staring at Myrna. It was obvious he’d amplified the hurt Cairren already suffered, and he wished he could pull Cairren aside and share his thoughts, make her understand how constantly conflicted he felt. How he desired her and appreciated her appearance even as he pined for Myrna. But he suspected Cairren wouldn’t find those words consoling, that it would only dig him deeper into the pile of manure his life had taken residence in. As the priest wrapped the cord around their wrist, Padraig stroked the back of Cairren’s hand, trying to sooth some of the pain from her eyes. Her hand jerked back, but she caught herself before it was noticeable to anyone beside Padraig and the priest who glowered at her. Father Mitchell had christened Padraig and had supported Padraig’s pursuit of Myrna’s hand. While Padraig understood the priest’s disappointment, even disdain, for the bride who stood before them, the open hostility seemed overmuch now that they were to handfast.
Father Mitchell cleared his throat before casting Cairren one more sneer. He turned his attention to the crowd.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this clan, to join together this mon and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of mon’s innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained.”
Cairren’s nails bit into Padraig’s hands as the priest intoned the first verse of the traditional Church marriage vows. They were not the words of a handfast. Cairren turned horror-filled eyes toward the priest, who pretended to ignore her. As he drew breath at the end of the verse, it tempted Padraig to shield Cairren from the man’s hateful glare. It was as though he blamed Cairren for their marriage. Padraig looked at his parents, and he knew immediately who had done this. Micheil’s self-satisfied expression said it all. He was forcing Padraig into this marriage to ensure they kept Cairren’s dowry.
“Papa,” Cairren whispered. The sense of betrayal in her voice nearly made Padraig come undone. When she spoke again, there was a plea to the single word, as if she begged her father to rescue her. “Papa?”
Innes Kennedy stood shocked beside Collette, who had tears streaming down her cheeks. He was prepared to bash Micheil Munro’s brains in, but there was nothing he could do. It was a courtesy to agree to a handfast, and Micheil was well within his legal rights to insist that their children marry, making the union permanent. He looked at Micheil and mouthed, “You will pay for this. I will not forget.” But Micheil had the audacity to grin even wider.
“He didn’t know,” Padraig whispered to Cairren. “Neither did I.”
Cairren’s face crumbled, but no tears came. She turned it, so his clan couldn’t see her shock and despondency. She remained stoic, and Padraig drew courage from this pint-sized woman. If she could endure the shock of the situation, so too could he.
“First, it was ordained for the procreation of children,” Father Mitchell continued. “To be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name. Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of contingency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body. Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore, if any many can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
Padraig tensed, waiting to hear Myrna’s voice, or Innes’s. The words forewarning against lust and fornication mocked Padraig, as though they knew they were the only reasons Padraig looked forward to the marriage.
“I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their matrimony lawful.”
He feared Cairren would speak out, but when silence ensued, Father Mitchell picked up where he left off. Cairren’s expression was once again distant, as though she weren’t attending her own wedding and wasn't standing before him.
Father Mitchell looked at Padraig. “Wilt the have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt the love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?” This was the vow Padraig dreaded but swore to keep even though he didn’t love Cairren. Unable to offer her love, he felt an obligation to hold true to the other promises.
"I will,” Padraig's clear voice spread across the now silent clan. There was no doubt or hesitation in his tone, and it seemed to bring Cairren back to the present. And now it was Cairren’s turn to agree to the vow that would bind her to Padraig until one of them met their Creator.
“Wilt the have this mon to thy wedded husband,” Father Mitchell intoned. Padraig didn’t miss the challenge in the priest’s voice, as though he dared Cairren to f
ail. “To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt the obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Cairren drew in a deep breath. Pain seemed to consume every inch of her. It was agony standing before Padraig when he promised to love, honor, and comfort her when she knew he didn’t mean any of it. Now it was her turn to lie. While she might have been willing to love him, Padraig already made it clear that such tender feelings would be pointless. Her pledge to obey a man who took her hand in marriage after being paid to do so, made her chattel. But what choice did she have? None.
“I will.” Cairren’s voice gave no hint to her inner turmoil. She met Padraig’s eyes, determined to pretend to be the devoted bride to Padraig’s doting groom.
Innes stepped forward, prepared for what came next. Father Mitchell directed his derisive tone at Collette as he stared with equal disgust at Cairren’s mother. “Who giveth this woman to be married to this mon?” He managed to make the word “woman” sound distasteful and condescending each time he spoke it.
“Her mother and I,” Innes lifted his chin, not afraid to challenge the man of the cloth. Cairren’s father was already beside himself that Micheil fooled them into the marriage. He wasn’t willing to cower before a priest who mocked him.
“I, Padraig Angus Munro take thee.” Padraig froze. He had no idea what Cairren’s full name was. He hadn’t paid attention to the contracts, and he hadn’t thought to ask.
“Sabine,” Cairren whispered.
“Cairren Sabine Kennedy, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.” As though agreeing to the terms hadn’t been bad enough, the ceremony now forced them to voice each promise aloud.
“I, Cairren Sabine Kennedy, take thee, Padraig Angus Munro, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”
Padraig pulled a ring from his sporran that he rubbed between his thumb and forefinger. It was the ring he’d always intended to give Myrna, but now he was sliding it onto Cairren’s finger. Once more, her hand jerked as if she would pull it away, as if the ring scorched her finger. Padraig glanced at Cairren and knew she’d realized the ring wasn’t really meant for her. He pushed the ring over her knuckle where it settled at the base of her finger. With her fine bones, the ring looked as though it had been crafted just for her. The deep emerald reflected the sunlight as Padraig tried not to sigh with resignation. It wouldn’t make Cairren or him feel better.
“With this ring I thee wed.” As Padraig stood before his stalwart bride, a woman who would endure a lifetime of rejection from the clan she joined, he discovered a reverence for his pledge that he hadn’t expected. He admitted to himself that he wasn’t sure that he could have survived the past day with the dignity Cairren had. He admired her for it, and he felt pride that King Robert entrusted her to him. None of his clan might appreciate the gift he’d been given, but at least Padraig could respect her. “With my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” His body agreed with his vow to worship her, so Padraig felt as though not everything he’d said was a falsehood.
"Those whom God hath joined together let no mon put asunder.” Father Mitchell seemed to choke on his words before he shifted his attention once more to the gathered clan members. “Forasmuch as Padraig and Cairren have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this clan, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be mon and wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
Padraig eased Cairren into his arms, cautious not to startle her. She looked up at him as though she were adrift, and the protectiveness and possessiveness he experienced while standing with her on the keep steps reemerged. He lowered his mouth to hers but whispered, “Open for me.”
Cairren’s eyes flared, but her lips parted on a soft mint-scented breath. Her eyes drifted close, and Padraig brought their mouths together. The heat and intensity from the night before sparked with the merest graze of their lips. He pressed his tongue into her mouth as she opened to him. His hold tightened as he felt her hands rest on his chest. He remembered they had an audience when an angry screech rent the air. He pulled back and saw Myrna’s hands curled into claws as though she prepared to attack Cairren.
Where there would normally be cheers and applause, there was stunned silence. Padraig pulled Cairren against his side and tucked her against him, trying to shield her from the looks of revulsion and disgust. But she refused to remain hidden. She donned her courtly facade, an expression Padraig already recognized as her defense, and stepped away from him. She steered toward her parents, but just before she reached them, she tilted her head toward Myrna and tossed her bouquet toward her. Reflexively, Myrna caught it. When she realized the significance of catching Cairren’s bouquet after watching Cairren marry the man she wanted, she dropped it and ground her heel into it.
Cairren laughed merrily, even though Padraig sensed it was an act. “Thank you. They’ve been making me want to sneeze the entire time.”
Padraig blinked several times as Innes and Collette linked arms with Cairren, and the trio moved toward the keep. Cairren didn’t bother to look back to see if Padraig followed. He’d been left at the altar—except they were already married.
Chapter Nine
Padraig pulled back one of the seats of honor for Cairren, then slipped into the one beside her. As servants circulated among the diners, Padraig watched the stares directed toward his bride and him. He hadn’t intended to shock his clansmen and women or hurt Myrna, but lust swept him away as Cairren returned his kiss. Now Myrna sulked, his mother and father could barely hide their disgust, the people seated before him gossiped, and his bride was already in the midst of a conversation with her parents. It was as though he no longer existed to Cairren, as though she intended to set the example for how leaving one another alone would work. Seated next to her mother and two seats down from her father, Cairren spoke softly in French. Padraig had given little thought to whether Innes spoke French since he hadn’t heard him, but Padraig realized the laird must have since he met his wife in France. It intrigued him to hear the burly Lowlander speak French with a Scottish brogue. It didn’t resemble any French Padraig had heard, but Collette and Cairren understood him. Cairren’s French sounded flawless, as though she’d spoken nothing else. She’d continued to use Gaelic for "please” and “thank you” despite how the servants turned up their nose. She’d understood what Myrna said when they met, and she’d even offered Mary a complicated greeting. He respected and appreciated her effort.
When a servant stepped between them to place a dish on the table, the woman intentionally tipped it toward Cairren’s lap. Padraig watched in horror but snapped to attention in time to push the servant’s hand away, making the food splatter the tablecloth rather than Cairren’s gown.
“Return to the kitchens and don’t let me see your face at this table again. Ever,” Padraig hissed. Cairren turned wide eyes to him before she glanced at the tablecloth, then at her lap. Fortunately, none had spilled on her, but Padraig knew she understood the slip hadn’t been an accident. He had her attention, and he intended to seize upon it. “You speak French and Scots. Do you speak any other languages?”
“I can read and write Latin; my Italian is passable. It’s not even a day’s ride to Italy from where my mother grew up. Sh
e learned enough to assist my grand-père with their soap and perfume trade. She taught me.” Cairren offered him a shy smile. “I’m working on my Gaelic.”
“You’ve impressed me with what you know. Do your parents, or at least your father, speak it?”
Cairren shook her head. “Nay. My father mentioned last year that he would look for a husband from the Highlands for me. I didn’t know how long I would have, but I asked a lady-in-waiting from here, Blair Sutherland, to help me. She’s been tutoring me for months.”
“You wanted to impress your new clan?” Padraig asked, but he wanted to retract his words when Cairren looked at him as though he were an imbecile.
“I want to understand what people are saying,” she replied. Neither of them needed to say aloud that she wanted to understand what people were saying about her.
“You barely had a Scots accent when you spoke yesterday. You’re bound to impress people with your knowledge.”
“I doubt that, and that’s not my intent.”
Padraig couldn’t blame Cairren for being on the defensive, but it was their wedding feast. He wished for a reprieve from everyone’s animosity for just a while. He served Cairren the choicest cuts of food as the dishes and platters moved across the table. She was gracious, but he noticed she pushed food to his side of the trencher, keeping very little for herself.
“Do you always eat so little?” Padraig murmured. Once more he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5) Page 7
