If Padraig feared he’d been too rough the first time, he’d underestimated how little control he had around Cairren. He thrust into her over and over, holding little back as she pushed her heels into the mattress, lifting her hips to meet his every time he drove into her. Her moans encouraged him as their kisses grew wild.
“I may never let you out of this bed,” Padraig growled.
“Only if you stay in it with me,” Cairren panted.
“I’d stay buried inside you like I am now.”
“I wouldn’t stop—” Cairren’s release ripped through, and she screamed.
“Ren!” Padraig bellowed as he followed her over the edge. He rolled them over, so she lay sprawled across his chest. “There is no way my arms will hold me up. I can barely breathe,” he panted.
Cairren could only nod. She’d only been this breathless once before. It was when she was ten summers, and she fell from her horse. The landing had knocked the wind out of her, and she’d panicked that she would never draw another breath. This time, with Padraig beneath her and his arms cradling her, she wasn’t afraid. She closed her eyes, but she needed something else. She strained to kiss him, not sure why it felt so urgent when she still hadn’t caught her breath. When they pulled apart, she rested her head over his heart, the steady thump calming.
“Where’d you go just now? Before we kissed. You seemed far away.”
Cairren tilted her head back and smiled. “I was remembering when I was ten and fell from my horse. The impact left me breathless. It felt like I would never draw air into my chest again, and I remember the sense of panic. A moment ago, I felt just as breathless as I did then, but I didn’t panic. I wasn’t scared, and I felt…” Cairren trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable admitting her feelings.
“How did you feel, Ren? Tell me. Please don’t shut me out. Not now,” Padraig’s voice was just as soothing as listening to his heart. His fingered caressed her back, and she relaxed again.
“I felt protected,” she whispered. Padraig could see her face, and a lump rose in his throat as she flinched, then squeezed her eyes shut. It was as though she expected him to scoff at her or reject her. Padraig realized, for Cairren, that fear was reasonable. Nothing in the past day had made her feel protected except for when she was with her parents. She’d admitted something that made her vulnerable, and it scared her that he would use it against her. His heart ached to know that while she trusted him with her body, her mind—her heart—was nowhere near as sure.
“I will protect you. Not because I’m a Highlander and honor bound. Not because you’re a lady and my wife. Because you’re you, Cairren, and you deserve to be safe.” Padraig felt her swallow and a slight nod. She took a deep breath before she lifted her head. Her smile was weak, but he saw relief in her eyes. She eased off of his body and moved across the bed.
Chapter Twelve
Cairren looked at the streak of blood on the sheet, and a peculiar mixture of pride and humiliation warred within her. She was proud that it would vindicate her once Wynda hung the sheet. But it humiliated her that everyone would know that Padraig had just bedded her. They would congratulate Padraig for suffering through his duty while continuing to believe she was a whore, even though the proof existed to show she wasn’t. She moved to the edge of the bed and pulled the sheet loose.
“That can wait a moment.” Padraig didn’t feel like moving, and he wasn’t pleased that Cairren was no longer pressed against him.
“No, it can’t. Wynda and whoever else out there who’s waiting will know that we’re done. If we don’t take it out there sooner, they’ll claim I needed the time to spill blood on the sheet. That I duped you. We’ve already lain here too long.”
Padraig rolled off the bed, anger bubbling to the surface. “Is that all you’ve been thinking aboot? That you needed to hurry and get it over with?”
“What?” Cairren reeled back. “How can you ask that when I just told you—just told you how I feel,” she finished on a whisper. Cairren pulled her lips in, and the tears she’d held at bay since she arrived finally broke the floodgates. “I’m scared.”
Padraig raced around the bed and pulled Cairren into his arms. Seeing his wife, who’d endured much since her arrival, break down into sobs alarmed him. The fact she’d admitted her fear, and he’d heard the words, left him feeling inadequate and helpless. She wouldn’t have admitted it if his clan hadn’t worn her down and she wasn’t truly fearful. She didn’t have to explain what scared her. Even with her parents still in residence, if the clan thought she’d been unchaste before becoming his bride, they would demand retribution. It wouldn’t just be her life at risk, but those of her parents and their guardsmen. Such a situation wouldn’t be so dangerous if it weren’t already so volatile.
Padraig released Cairren and grabbed the plaid from the foot of his bed. He wrapped it around her before snatching the sheet from the bed. He wrapped his own discarded plaid around his waist before walking to the door. He glanced back to make sure Cairren was covered before he flung the door open. As he’d expected, Wynda wasn’t alone. Both sides of their family were present. He held up the sheet before bunching it in his hands and throwing it at his father. Myrna burst into tears and once more stepped toward him, but he turned to Wynda.
“I want a bath brought up here now. I don’t care if you have to rouse every drunk servant in this keep.” Myrna was almost to him when he slammed the door shut. He turned back to see Cairren had gone ghostly pale, and he feared she would collapse. When her legs wobbled, and she teetered toward the bed, he sprinted back to her side. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the fireplace. Once he set her on a chair, he retrieved a flask of whisky and held it out to her. She didn’t look away from the flames as she took a long draw before handing it back to him. She had the same vacant stare she’d worn as she approached the kirk that evening. It was as if she saw nothing in front of her. It was disconcerting. Padraig squatted before her and took her hands. “Where do you go when you seem so far away?”
Cairren turned her head toward his voice, but her eyes remained on the flames. “When I arrived at court, those first few months were dreadful. I wasn’t shunned. I was the oddity, the curious stranger everyone wanted to learn aboot. My name was familiar to most, but few had ever met me. I told you, Dunure is remote. I’ve spent time sailing along the coast, but I didn’t travel much before going to court. I like my home.” Cairren shrugged.
Padraig was surprised to learn that her experience at court differed from at Foulis. He assumed she’d been rejected in the way his clan had done. It struck him that she still thought of Dunure as home, but he reminded himself that nothing about being at Foulis felt welcoming or familiar to her.
“People wanted to know why I looked so different. They wanted to know if my mother and sister looked like me. It was well known that Maman is French, but everyone assumed she would look like the Scots or the English. She and I don’t resemble how people picture the French. My grand-père wasn’t French. He wasn’t even European. I told you before that at first people whispered aboot me in front of my face. I suppose it was hardly ever really a whisper, even if they held their hand in front of their mouth. Eventually, they did it behind my back. I’m not sure which was worse.”
When Cairren stopped talking, Padraig squeezed her hands again, encouraging her to continue. He found he was desperate to learn more about Cairren.
“But I learned how to pick a place to look at and let what was happening around me, what people were saying, fade away. Sometimes I pray, sometimes I recite a poem. Sometimes I don’t really think aboot aught but concentrating on the spot I picked. It was the only way to make it bearable until people realized that I was raised no different from any other lady raised in the Lowlands. Plenty of them speak French, and it’s spoken as often at court as Scots. The only reason people still gossiped is because they assumed I would be loose. They couldn’t understand why I wasn’t, since they believed I must be the slut your—like what they sa
id earlier—because of my foreign heritage. Men gossiped and wagered to see who would offer the proposition I finally accepted. Women gossiped aboot when I would stop pretending to be better than I was. And most wondered what I believe you did: what do I really look like without my clothes on? Am I dark everywhere or just the bits that show?”
Padraig was about to speak, but the knock at the door signaled the servants’ arrival with the bath. He opened it and found Collette standing with a bar of soap in her hand, but her eyes latched onto Cairren, who sat with her back to the door. Padraig nodded, and Collette rushed inside. He watched mother and daughter whisper together as the servants traipsed in with the tub and buckets of steaming water.
“Padraig,” a woman’s voice hissed from the passageway. He knew Myrna was waiting for him. He glanced over at Cairren and found she was looking back at him. The look of defeat when she nodded her head made him doubt whether he should step outside, but he felt bad for how he’d treated Myrna earlier. He’d let his temper take control, and he wanted to make amends before a rift developed between them. He stepped in the passageway and led her away from the door. “It’s done! You never have to touch her again!”
Padraig’s feelings didn’t match Myrna’s excitement. Only minutes ago, he’d been wondering when he could couple with Cairren again without fearing that he’d hurt her. Guilt for betraying Myrna swept over him. Her joyous expression reminded him of all the times he’d thought she was the loveliest creature he’d ever beheld. His mind flashed to earlier that night, but he justified her behavior to himself. In his mind, he excused her cruel and vulgar words as being overwrought with hurt and disappointment. He wrapped his arms around Myrna and kissed the top of her head, but she pulled away, curling her nose up.
“Don’t touch me while you smell like that disgusting swine.”
“Myrna,” Padraig hissed. The door to his chamber was open, and he was certain everyone inside heard Myrna. He wasn’t sure what was worse: Cairren hearing that he was touching Myrna or the insulting description.
“Why are you so worried aboot her feelings? You haven’t cared aboot mine since she arrived.”
“Myrna, I can care that someone is treated properly without it meaning I love you any less.”
“She’s trying to turn you away from me. We all heard you in there. It was like listening to a farmer hump a whore,” Myrna spat.
“You have a filthy mouth, and it’s making you ugly. I’ve never had a moment where I haven’t been proud to have you on my arm until yesterday. You’re disgracing yourself and me.” Padraig felt his temper boil and was ready to turn away from Myrna when she burst into tears. She sobbed as she wedged her way back into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, his heart aching for her.
“It just hurts so much, Padraig. Everyone kens what you were doing. That you liked what you were doing. It was so humiliating for me. She’s taken my place,” Myrna sobbed. Padraig drew in a deep breath, recognizing Myrna was suffering just as much as Cairren, just differently. He was sympathetic to Cairren, but he found himself wanting to make any promise that would ease Myrna’s upset and end her tears.
“I know, Myrna. I’m sorry it has to be this way. I would protect you before all others if I could. The only way to make this easier is for you to return home.”
“So you can keep coupling with her without me having to know. How could you, Padraig? How can you choose her over me?”
“I’m not. I’m trying to protect you. I’m married to her now, and that won’t change. I don’t want you to have to see me with her,” Padraig explained.
Myrna pulled away once again, a hard glint in her eyes. “Why would you be with her if I’m here? You’ve done your duty. There is no reason for you ever to touch her again.”
“I can’t know if she’s breeding yet. It can take once or it can many times before a woman gets with child.”
“Gets with child? You don’t need heirs. You’re only a second son,” Myrna blurted. Padraig went stiff and pushed back his shoulders.
“Only a second son? That never seemed to bother you in the past. If that’s the case, why should I marry at all?”
“Because you love me. Oh, Padraig. I’m so upset I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m sorry. I’m just so—” A sob cut off her last word. Padraig relented and once more embraced her, relieved she didn’t reject him or point out Cairren’s scent. Noise behind him made him turn around.
Cairren watched as her husband, the man who’d just taken her innocence and brought her pleasure she never dreamed existed, stood before her in the passageway, holding the woman he really wanted. Humiliation, her constant companion these days, flooded through her. Myrna’s blond hair shone in the torchlight, and it was the perfect contrast to Padraig’s head of black hair. They were both strikingly good looking, and they made a stunning couple. With no way to get to the stairs without passing them, she took a deep breath then her first step forward. She was too tired to go into battle again, but she expected the blows to keep coming.
Padraig watched as Cairren approached, her mother and Wynda behind her. He hadn’t seen Wynda enter, but he realized she must have brought Cairren the robe she now wore. Collette carried Cairren’s wedding gown.
“Where are you going?” Padraig turned away from Myrna, but his arms remained around her.
Cairren sniffed. “We’re done, so I’m going to bed.” She looked directly at Myrna. “I’m exhausted now.”
“You’re leaving?” Padraig’s brow furrowed.
“You didn’t expect me to stay, did you?” Cairren scoffed. “We did what we had to, and now that I’d rather be in my own chamber, you can do as you please in there.”
Cairren turned away and moved toward the stairs, but paused and looked back. “Just remember you’ll need to change the sheets now that we finally finished coupling. You wouldn’t want to smell like swine.”
Chapter Thirteen
Padraig woke the morning after his wedding feeling like he was hung over. His head pounded, his body ached, and his stomach churned. He hadn’t slept more than an hour at a stretch; the disaster replaying over and over in his mind. The hateful things his family said collided with Cairren’s story of how people treated her when she arrived at court, making his ears ring. Every time he pictured Cairren as they coupled, the image was overrun by one of her sobbing and admitting her fear. Then there was Myrna in the passageway. He wanted to find her, to make sure that she would recover from her own ordeal, but he dreaded leaving his chamber and facing reality.
Nay. I dread facing Cairren. I dread seeing the hurt and betrayal from what she saw and heard between Myrna and me. I left ma bed where I’d just had the most exquisite experience with a woman I’ve ever had, and I went to another woman. I might have done naught with Myrna, but does that really matter? If I heard this tale, and it were aboot another mon, I’d want to thrash him. Instead, easy as ye please, I left Cairren behind. Yet, I still dinna feel as bad as I ken I should. It’s Myrna I want to comfort. Padraig sat up and rubbed his forehead. What the bluidy hell is wrong with me?
He made his way belowstairs, finding his family and Myrna seated at the dais, but the Kennedys were nowhere in sight. He looked around the Great Hall but didn’t see any of their guardsmen either. His heart tightened as he feared they’d left, but when he looked at his family again, he knew that wasn’t the case. They didn’t look smug enough for the Kennedys to have left. His eye caught the sheet hanging over the railing as it swung with the draught. There was no missing the bright red streak that marred the white sheet. Padraig swallowed as once more memories from the night before danced before his eyes. His bollocks ached as he remembered how it felt to be hilt-deep inside Cairren, and he wouldn’t lie to himself and say he didn’t want to do it again, didn’t want to do it over and over.
Myrna wrapped her arm around his and beamed. “I’m sorry aboot last night, Padraig. I was awful, and I’m so ashamed.” Padraig listened to her tone, which sounded contrite, but it di
dn’t match the sunny expression on her face.
“I’m sorry too. I wish you hadn’t had to go through that. I love you.” He cupped Myrna’s cheek and gazed into her blue eyes. He felt himself slipping into their depths, the familiarity calling to him. His thumb swept over her cheekbone until a clearing of a throat brought him back to reality. He was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, sharing an intimate moment with a woman other than his wife, the wife he’d married less than a day ago. He looked up to see Innes, Collette, and Cairren watching him.
Cairren stumbled as she entered the Great Hall and caught sight of Myrna and Padraig standing together. They weren’t just merely talking. They looked like lovers exchanging a private moment. Except it wasn’t private at all with hundreds of eyes watching them. She despised him. She loathed him. But she despised and loathed herself more for letting her guard down. She never should have trusted him, and more fool was she for doing so when she knew better. Her time alone with Padraig had been the most incredible experience of her life, but what the Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. She figured she’d spent two pleasant hours with Padraig while they explored one another, but that was a mere drop in the bucket compared to the time spent wanting to be anywhere but Foulis. She followed her parents to the dais, not sparing Padraig a glance.
Padraig wanted to groan. He’d believed himself to be a thoughtful and sensible man, but he couldn’t seem to stop digging himself deeper and deeper into his own grave. He’d never thought himself fickle either, having wanted Myrna as his wife for so long. But he couldn’t deny how much he wanted Cairren. But the most disgraceful part is that I want to keep ma wife as though she were ma mistress. Nay acknowledgment of one another in the daylight while bedding her every night. Though from the look on her face, I may never touch her again. Padraig watched as Cairren walked past him and Myrna, their arms still wrapped around each other for all of Clan Munro and the Kennedys to see. It didn’t even dawn on Padraig that he should extricate himself until they’d already walked past and Innes growled. Padraig had grown too distracted by how beautiful Cairren looked in a burgundy gown with her hair pulled up as was appropriate for a married woman. Her cheeks were flushed, and the wisps of hair that had come loose appeared windblown. He noticed Collette looked much the same way, and Innes was running his hand over his hair to flatten it. They’d already been for a morning ride. Padraig wanted to groan as he thought about how the only morning ride he’d been planning that day had been Cairren.
An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5) Page 10
