“Let’s eat, Padraig. I’m famished.” Myrna’s upbeat voice punctured his train of thought. He smiled at her and led her to the dais. Cairren sat at the far end of the table between her parents, nowhere near where she’d sat with Padraig during the feast. Mary scowled when she realized her son and Myrna couldn’t sit together because there were no chairs left open next to each other. Padraig watched his mother rake a venomous glance over his wife and parents-by-marriage, as if they’d somehow created the situation. Padraig had little choice but to take a seat between Wynda and a senior guardsman while Myrna sat to Mary’s left.
Wynda glanced at Duncan to be sure he was talking to Micheil before she leaned toward Padraig. It surprised him that his sister-by-marriage attempted to make conversation. She made it appear as though she were asking him to pass the jug of cream, but she whispered, “My heart has never hurt so much for someone before. I thought you were better than Duncan.”
Wynda’s comment stunned Padraig as he looked past her to where Duncan guffawed at something Micheil said. He’d never enjoyed being compared to his older brother, and this was the worst one yet. He looked into Wynda’s eyes and saw pity, but he sensed it wasn’t pity for him and his lost opportunity to marry the woman he loved. It was pity that he was a lesser man than she’d believed. As she leaned forward to reach for the honey, Wynda whispered again.
“There is more than meets the eye to both of them, but you will only like what you learn aboot one of them. It won’t be the one you think you want.”
Padraig opened his mouth to speak, but Wynda’s eyes flared with fear before she turned toward Duncan. He watched his brother cast a disgusted look at Wynda.
“What’re you babbling on aboot now? You haven’t the sense God gave a gnat. Haven’t I warned you aboot prattling?”
“Aye, Duncan. I was just—”
“Did I ask what you were doing?” Duncan interrupted.
“She was asking for the cream and honey,” Padraig intervened.
“Did I ask you what she was doing? Stay out of the farce that is my marriage and I’ll stay out of yours,” Duncan retorted.
The sound of something being knocked over drew his attention away from Duncan and Wynda. He looked over to see Cairren blotting the front of her gown.
“I’m so sorry,” Cairren mumbled. “I’m not usually so clumsy. Uh, Lady Wynda, would you show me where I might take this to be laundered?” Cairren was already moving around the table, then standing between Duncan and Wynda before anyone could remind Cairren that her maid was responsible for that. She held out her hand to Wynda, who looked at it before glancing at Cairren’s encouraging smile. None of his family could see the exchange because Cairren’s back blocked their view.
“Of course, Lady Cairren. Please come with me.” Wynda rose and led Cairren to the end of the dais that wouldn’t force them to walk past the Munros. Collette followed them as Innes rose. The man glared at Padraig before leaning forward to whisper none too quietly.
“You and me. The lists. Now.” Innes didn’t wait to see if Padraig accepted the challenge, instead turning and jumping down from the dais. He walked through the Great Hall with a sense of command that only a battle-hardened laird could. Padraig wanted to groan. Sparring with Innes was the last thing his body needed.
“But I thought you were spending the day with me.” Myrna’s voice seemed to fill every crevice of the Great Hall as members of the clan waited to see who Padraig chose. Myrna’s innocent smile reassured him that she hadn’t just tried to manipulate him.
“I’m afraid I can’t. I need to train, and I can’t refuse him. I will join you after the nooning.” Padraig kept his voice low, but the grins from the people seated closest to the dais told him they’d heard him plan a rendezvous with Myrna.
“Does he beat you?” Cairren demanded as soon as they were abovestairs. “I saw the bruise above your collarbone when I arrived.”
“He loses his temper sometimes,” Wynda demurred.
“Does the laird strike his wife?” Cairren wouldn’t relent.
Wynda snorted. “You’ve met the woman. Would he live to tell the tale?”
“Then why does the laird allow his son to mistreat you?”
Wynda closed the door behind them once the three women were inside Cairren’s chamber. She sighed and drew her lips in as she decided what to say. “Duncan and I married five summers ago, and I’m yet to give him an heir. I was an Urquhart before I wed. The alliance secured the Munros’ access to the Moray Firth. I grew up along the coast, I suppose, much like you. The weather was milder there, and I was in good health. But since moving inland, I’m poorly much more often. Duncan becomes angry when I’m unwell, accusing me of being infirm and that’s why I haven’t carried any bairns to term.”
Cairren watched Wynda as she spoke, and something didn’t sit right with Cairren. Wynda appeared thin and sallow, but she didn’t strike Cairren as being as being sickly so much as underfed. Though she supposed not eating enough and being beaten often would compromise anyone’s health.
“Wynda, have you lost the bairns because he’s beaten you too badly?” Cairren kept her voice low and tried to keep her tone soft. Her sister-by-marriage shook her head, but tears trailed down her cheeks. “Oh, Wynda, why haven’t you told your father? Or have you, and he refuses to help you?”
“I can’t ever reveal this to anyone. Duncan will kill me.” Wynda grabbed Cairren’s hands. “You can never let him know that I admitted this. Please, Cairren. Please.”
Cairren pulled Wynda into her arms and stroked the woman’s hair as she looked at Collette. When the women stepped apart, Collette took one of Wynda’s hands and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“If your father knew, would he help you?” Collette asked.
“I don’t know. I think so, but I can’t be sure.”
“Wynda,” Collette’s voice was laced with the authority she’d carried as the lady of Clan Kennedy for over twenty years. “If you want to go back to your parents, Innes and I will make certain you get there safely. You need only say you do, and you will.”
Wynda stood quietly, considering the offer before her, but with great regret, she shook her head. “I can’t. The Munros are far larger than the Urquharts. They could lay waste to my clan if I did that. I can’t risk my family and my people just because things are hard for me here. It wouldn’t be right.”
Cairren and Collette exchanged a glance, knowing that Wynda was doing the honorable thing even if it was likely to get her killed one of these days. They had to respect her choice.
“Do you have to spend much time with him?” Cairren asked.
“Nay. I keep to myself during the day and help with the running of the keep. Duncan trains and meets with Micheil and the clan elders. He comes to my chambers some nights, but rarely these days. He only pays attention if he thinks I’ve done something wrong.”
Cairren took hold of Wynda’s hands, much like her mother had. “I will not endanger you by making it obvious that we are allies, but will you promise that if you’re ever in fear for your life, you will come to me?”
“Yes,” Wynda rasped as tears filled her eyes. The two women, neither wanted within Foulis Castle, formed a friendship more for survival than from things in common, but Cairren prayed she could protect Wynda just as she promised.
Chapter Fourteen
Breaking his fast and seeing Myrna had eased Padraig’s headache and queasiness, but the five rounds of sparring against Innes that he’d just survived made him feel as though his head were inside a bell tower. The man had been relentless, proving that Lowlanders shouldn’t be underestimated.
“Come now, lad. You can’t be tired yet. Are your battles up here that short you get winded after ten minutes? You’d never survive along the border. The British would piss on you after severing your head from your shoulders.” Innes taunted as Padraig wiped the sweat from near his eyes. They’d been circling one another, preparing for their sixth round.
“Perhap
s he’s tired from fucking your daughter all night.” The wind caught the man’s words, and even the warrior who uttered them realized his error. Innes swung around, dropped his sword and barreled into the crowd of onlookers before knocking the guilty man to the ground. He straddled the man, his knees pinning the warrior's arms to the ground, rendering them useless. His fist rained down one punch after another, while his other hand gripped the Munro warrior’s throat. A couple of Munros attempted to pull Innes off of their comrade but they backed away, doubled over from Innes landing his fist in their groin. When the man’s face was no longer recognizable, Innes lifted his head and slammed it down on the ground.
“Who’s next?” Innes looked around the crowd. “I’m auld enough to be most your father. I’ve just gone five rounds with yon stripling,” he pointed toward Padraig, “and I’m barely out of breath. Anyone else have comments to make aboot my wee lass?”
Innes stood and placed his hands on his hips, challenging any of them to step forward. When no one dared breathe in his direction, he bent and picked up his sword. He walked back to Padraig, and it appeared as though his temper had already settled, so Padraig was unprepared for the fist that plowed into his face, breaking his nose. Padraig stumbled backwards as Innes spat at his feet. “Where you lead, they follow.”
Innes walked away from the lists while the men stared, unsure whether they should attack him and defend their laird’s son’s honor, or remain where they were, already terrified of him. Padraig pinched the end of his nose, tilting his head back to staunch the bleeding. He’d been unprepared for his father-by-marriage to lash out, but he couldn’t deny he deserved it. He supposed he was lucky to be alive. Innes had outwitted him repeatedly as they practiced, overlooking multiple opportunities to injure Padraig when he let his guard down or misjudged Innes’s strategy. Padraig had grown impatient, embarrassed to be bested in front of his men. But it was only after one of Padraig’s warriors, one he’d trained alongside since they entered the lists as adolescents, insulted Cairren that Innes lashed out.
Padraig knew he was fortunate to walk away with only a broken nose, and he hadn’t intervened on Denis’s behalf because the man deserved the beating. But it was Innes’s parting comment that made him feel the worst. Padraig had set the example that Cairren was of little consequence to him. He knew there’d been talk about them on the keep’s steps the night she arrived. The guards had been gossiping about it for two days. Then the kiss outside the kirk, the scene during the feast, and Padraig’s refusal to allow anyone outside of the lairds’ families to enter the bedchamber angered many within the clan. His actions with Myrna that morning spoke louder than if Padraig stood on the battlements and screamed that Cairren was a whore. As Padraig continued to pinch his nose and walked back to the keep, he knew he was lucky to be alive.
“Padraig?”
Padraig looked up as his eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the dimmer light within the keep. Cairren stared aghast, and he knew he was a mess. He had blood splattered across his face and chest, and he could tell his eye was bruising. His nose hurt more than when a horse kicked him and broke it when he was five-and-ten.
“Padraig, what happened?” Cairren remained where she stood, but he could hear the concern in her voice. “Saints above! How’d you break your nose?”
Cairren rushed forward and yanked Padraig’s leine from his hand. She swiped it across his chest and face as he raised his elbow to move his arm out of the way while his fingers still held his nose shut. Cairren gently pried his hand loose before finding a clean strip of cloth. She blotted his face and flinched when he hissed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s not your fault, lass.”
“I’ll be more careful.” But Padraig lowered her hands when she reached for him again.
“It’s not you. I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You need to have your nose set and something cold put on your eye. Who’s your healer? Can someone send for her?”
“We haven’t one. She died last winter.”
“She’d trained no one to take over from her? Do you at least have a midwife?”
“Nay. She was young and hadn’t thought she would need a replacement. She was both the healer and the midwife.”
“Who can set your nose? Your mother? Myrna?”
Padraig snorted, then groaned. “Neither. They can’t stand the sight of blood or getting dirty from it.”
“And they wanted to be warriors’ wives?” Cairren shook her head in disbelief, but took Padraig’s hand and tugged him toward the Great Hall. She guided them to the window that let in the only natural light in the gathering hall. People had already begun milling about in anticipation of the nooning. Heads turned to watch the couple as Cairren led Padraig to a bench. “Sit.”
Cairren turned Padraig’s face toward the light and tried not to grimace. Whoever broke his nose did so in a way that the bone cracked in at least two places. She was going to cause him terrible pain before it could feel better.
“Padraig, I’m sorry I’m going to have to hurt you. It’s unavoidable. Do you want some whisky first?” Cairren glanced around, hoping to signal someone willing to come close enough for her to make the request.
“Nay. Just be done with it.”
She positioned one hand to grasp the bridge of his nose while the other gripped his jaw. Her strong fingers pressed against his jaw and chin.
“Sit still. Are you re—” Cairren didn’t finish her sentence before her booted foot kicked Padraig’s shin. She used the distraction to realign his nose.
“Fucking shite, lass! Ye dinna need to kick so hard.” It was the second time Cairren heard Padraig’s brogue, and she rather liked it. She chuckled as she stepped back. “There’s naught funny aboot kicking a wounded mon. As if ma nose dinna already hurt. I thought ye would fix ma nose, nae break ma shin.”
“Your nose is fixed.”
“What?” Padraig’s brow furrowed, but he gingerly felt around his nose and realized she was right. It still hurt like the dickens, but it was straighter than it had been before. The bump from the last time someone set it was straightened, and he realized that the pain was less than it had been.
“I’m sorry that you’re injured in a second place, but I needed to distract you. You would have pulled away the moment I put pressure on your nose, and I wouldn’t have been able to get it straight.”
“You evil witch!” Myrna squawked. “Get away from him. What are you doing to him?”
Cairren stepped back from Padraig, who blinked rapidly as he watched Myrna rush toward them. He attempted to stand, but Cairren’s hand shot out and pressed his shoulder down, urging him to remain seated. She muttered, “Dizzy.” And he was. She turned her attention to Myrna and tossed Padraig’s filthy leine at her.
“You’re just in time to clean up. You always manage to show up when I’m done with Padraig.” Cairren canted her head and smiled. She brushed past Myrna as the woman fumed, but then Myrna remembered Padraig, or at least that Padraig was watching.
“Oh, my love. What did she do to you?” Myrna cooed as she reached for his face. Padraig swatted her hand away and stood.
“She set my nose since no one else here can.”
“I would have!” Myrna exclaimed.
“Before or after you swooned from the blood? She’s cleaned most of it up.” Padraig looked for Cairren, but she’d disappeared. But his clan watched him. He was in no mood to deal with any woman or his clan gawking at him. “I’m going to bathe.”
“I thought we would spend the afternoon together.”
“Myrna, I just got my nose broken. It hurts like hell.”
“But I can kiss you and make it all better,” Myrna cooed.
“No, you cannot. I told you. I love you, but I’m not breaking my vow to Cairren.”
“So you’re picking her again,” Myrna spat.
“No. I’m picking the vow I made before God. Myrna, my head aches, and my nose is throbbing. P
lease, just let me go and bathe. I’m sure I’ll feel better after a dip in the loch.”
“I’ll come with you. I can scrub your back,” Myrna grinned.
“What? No! You’ve never seen—I’ve never shown you my—I mean you saw last night, but that’s different. You shouldn’t have even been in there last night as an unwed woman.” The truth of that statement dawned on Padraig for the first time.
“Well, I was. And now that it’s not a secret, why shouldn’t I see it again?”
“Because we’re not married,” Padraig hissed through his gritted teeth.
“But you did your duty. Now it’s a marriage in name only.”
“And you’re still a maiden. It would be wrong even if I weren’t wed.”
“I told you I could solve that problem,” Myrna raised an eyebrow and offered a knowing smile.
“Are you saying that just to get back at me?”
“No, I’m saying it so your stuffy honor will stay quiet, and we can move on with our lives.”
“Move on to what? I told you, I’m not making you my mistress.” Padraig rubbed his forehead and longed for a way to escape.
“What other choice is there if you still love me and want to be with me?” Myrna argued.
An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5) Page 11
