An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5)

by Celeste Barclay

  When Mary returned with the supplies, Cairren had Padraig and Alex prop Duncan up while she poured just enough whisky down his throat to deepen his breathing without drowning him. Mary and Myrna squawked when Cairren climbed onto the bed and straddled Duncan’s chest, but Cairren snapped at them, saying they were welcome to the task if they could do it better. Both women backed down and let Cairren work on Duncan’s jaw. Once she aligned it on both sides, Cairren wound bandages to keep Duncan from moving his jaw or bumping it in his sleep. Wynda offered to tend to Duncan once Cairren finished, but it was Myrna’s lingering look at Duncan that raised Cairren’s suspicions. Cairren opted to keep her observations to herself even when Padraig took her back to his chamber and helped her with a bath. He became irate all over again when he noticed the bruise on her cheek and fingerprints on her breast, but she pleaded that all she wanted was for him to stay with her until she fell asleep. Padraig remained with Cairren all day despite Myrna appearing twice to beg him to walk with her. He was unprepared for how little he wanted to see Myrna that day. His only priority was remaining with Cairren until she woke. He could tell she wasn’t excited about attending the Samhain bonfires, but Padraig cajoled her and promised never to leave her side.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cairren watched the crowd gathered around the bonfires as revelers sang and danced to welcome the harvest season. She remained sheltered by Padraig, Alex, and the Kennedys, and she felt some semblance of normalcy. Padraig fetched a mug of whisky for her and even went so far as to silently sip from it before handing it to her. Her expression softened as she thanked him, appreciative for how the drink warmed her insides. She’d always loved the festivities of Samhain, and the music helped her relax. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Myrna or Mary, but Micheil wandered through his clansmen; however, he kept his distance from her circle. She wished to dance, but after her two disastrous attempts in the Great Hall, one resulting in a near-elbow to the face and the other listening to threats and insults, she opted to keep her interest to herself.

  “Jamie, that lass keeps staring in your direction,” Daniel elbowed his son as he pointed to a youthful woman who kept shooting Jamie coy smiles. With auburn hair, blue eyes, and deep dimples, Jamie was a favorite among women for his easy good nature and humor, but he had a sweetheart at home.

  “Da, even if Keyla never learned of it, I have no interest in anyone else.”

  “But the lass looks positively lonely,” Daniel continued to tease.

  “Then you go dance with her,” Jamie challenged.

  “And have your mother skelp me alive? Nay thank you.” Daniel shook his head with a grin.

  Padraig listened to the easy banter between father and son and wished he had such a relationship with his own, but it had been contentious for as long as he could remember, Micheil often pitting brother against brother. While Padraig was the more responsible of the two and the better fighter, Duncan was the favored firstborn and shared a similar personality with Micheil.

  “Alex, she’s looking at you just as much as Jamie. Why don’t you talk to her?” Cairren suggested.

  “I think I shall accept that suggestion.” Alex grinned and sauntered away. His ebony hair and green eyes were a stark contrast to Jamie’s, but the men had become easy friends when Alex arrived to foster. Before Jamie began courting Keyla Kennedy, one of Cairren and Jamie’s clanswomen, the two men had been known for the carousing. Cairren imagined Alex continued their legacy even though he’d returned to Clan Armstrong land. She’d once thought him the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Her gaze shifted to Padraig and found him watching her. Without a doubt, Padraig was the most handsome and seductive man Cairren knew. His heated gaze warmed her even more than the whisky.

  “How are you, little one?” Padraig murmured near her ear. His breath made her shiver, and while it surprised her to find she was enjoying herself, her body ached to return to the privacy of Padraig’s chamber.

  “I’m having more fun than I thought I would,” Cairren stretched to whisper in his ear.

  “As am I, but I can think of something that I would enjoy more than a noisy crowd.”

  “Oh?” Cairren offered the most alluring expression she could manage, and from the way Padraig’s body instinctually moved toward hers, she believed she’d succeeded.

  “We’ve been and we’ve seen. I think it’s time we call it a night, Ren.” Padraig’s hand that rested on her waist drifted to her bottom and squeezed. His attention had been fixated on Cairren since they left the keep. At first, it had been for her safety, but now it was purely desire. He watched as she swayed to the music and laughed with her friends. They’d exchanged several heated glances, and Padraig wanted nothing more than to strip her bare and feast on the parts of her that were his to admire alone.

  “I—” Something darted past Cairren’s periphery, and she glanced toward it. Her heart catapulted into her stomach. She pushed past Padraig as she called back. “Jamie, my salve and linens. My chest. Now!”

  Cairren watched in horror as a small child toddled too close to the fire. Not an experienced walker, the little girl looked more like a drunkard as she staggered too close to the flames. Cairren’s eyes darted about, looking for someone chasing after the child, but no one but she seemed to notice.

  “No!” she screamed. “Stop!” When the toddler kept moving toward the flames, she tried Gaelic instead. “Stad!”

  She ran to the toddler, but she couldn’t reach her before she pitched forward. She scooped the lass into her arms and twisted away from the flames, but not before the inferno scalded the child’s hands. The scream that the little girl let loose traveled through the crowd, and people turned to look.

  A woman pushed through the crowd until she stumbled to a stop before Cairren. “Give me ma bairn, ye witch. Ye tried to kill her. Ye’d burn her to death.” The woman yanked the child from Cairren, only making the screams worse.

  “Mind her hands,” Cairren warned. “They need tending immediately.”

  “Bitch,” the woman hissed.

  “Enough, Meg. Lady Cairren just saved Katie’s life. Say another word, and I will put you before the lash,” Padraig warned.

  “Padraig, nay. She’s frightened for her child,” Cairren argued.

  “Then she should have been minding her.”

  Cairren shook her head. “Accidents happen. But that’s neither here nor there. She needs tending. Look. Jamie’s coming with my salve.” Cairren turned toward the sobbing mother. “Please, will you let me tend to your daughter’s hands? I fear that without the salve her hands won’t heal properly. The scaring might make them useless.”

  “Ye’re nae touching ma daughter, ye heathen. We dinna want yer kind here.”

  Padraig opened his mouth, but Cairren’s hand on his arm stayed him.

  “That’s fine. I know that already. But you’d really maim your daughter to prove your hatred?”

  The woman looked at her inconsolable child in her arms as she tried to rock her, then at Cairren. She shook her head just as Jamie arrived with a jar and strips of linen. Cairren held out her hands for the child, and the woman slowly relented. Cairren wanted to scream for her to hurry, that she was wasting time that was keeping her child in pain, but she kept silent, unwilling to risk the woman refusing her. As she took the little girl in her arms, she crooned soft sounds until the teary eyes looked at her.

  Switching to Gaelic, she said, “I’m Ren. I have a little sister I call Caity. That’s my very most favorite name. Just like yours. I’m going to help you, lass, but it will hurt. I’m so sorry, but I must make it a wee worse before I can make it better.” She looked at the mother and continued. “I have to move closer to the fire, so I can see. The heat will make it hurt more, but I have no choice.”

  Padraig and the Kennedys moved with Cairren, keeping a circle around her. She sat on an upended stump and pried the first tiny fist open. She wanted to cry as she examined the damage. The palm was already raw blisters with open skin
. The burn was worse than she expected. She held a hand out without turning away, and Jamie handed her the open jar. She settled it between her knees and scooped a gob with her forefinger and put it to her tongue. She couldn’t keep from shivering at the bitter taste, but she looked once more at Meg. “Tastes disgusting, but it’s not poisonous. If she should ever get some in her mouth, she won’t get sick.” Cairren knew all toddlers put their hands in their mouth, so her explanation was reasonable, but she wanted people to see she would taste her own medicine.

  As she scooped out more salve, she hummed to Katie, using her lap to rock her as she continued to sob but no longer scream. Her clear alto quietened the last of the murmurs in the crowd as she slathered the ointment on the little girl's hands.

  Ho-ro-ro, hi-ri-ri

  Cadal gu madainn

  O, hush dhuit, mo phàisde,

  Bha do dhùdach na ridire,

  Do mhàthair a bhean,

  An dà chuid brèagha agus soilleir;

  A ’choille agus na glinn,

  Bho na tùir a chì sinn,

  Buinidh iad uile,

  Leanabh a ghràidh, dhuit.

  O, hush dhuit, mo phàisde,

  Bha do dhùdach na ridire,

  O, hush dhuit, mo phàisde,

  Mar sin bonnie agus soilleir.

  Cairren was certain the Munros recognized the lullaby that Blair Sutherland taught her in the hopes that one day Cairren would sing it to her own children.

  Ho-ro-ro, hi-ri-ri

  Sleep until dawn

  Oh, hush thee, my baby,

  Thy sire was a knight,

  Thy mother a lady,

  Both lovely and bright;

  The woods and the glens,

  From the towers which we see,

  They all are belonging,

  Dear baby, to thee.

  Oh, hush thee, my baby,

  Thy sire was a knight,

  Oh, hush thee, my baby,

  So bonnie and bright.

  She gingerly wound the linen strips, covering the tiny hands and wrists. By the time she’d finished, Katie had fallen asleep, soothed by Cairren’s voice and exhausted from her ordeal. She brushed hair back from her forehead and gave her one long last look before handing her to Meg. She’d fought the temptation to kiss the lass on the forehead, fearing it would be too much for the Munros. She stood and handed the jar to the woman, then wiped the last of the salve onto a line square.

  “You need to apply this every few hours. They will look much worse before they look better. Would you permit me to visit and examine them? They will need the dead skin cleaning away. It’s painful to experience and painful to watch. I’d spare you that.”

  “Why?”

  “Why is it painful?” Cairren guessed that wasn’t the woman’s question, but she would be sure before she volunteered any answers.

  “Why would ye help her?”

  “She’s not even two summers, is she?” Cairren asked. Meg shook her head. “Because I would see her grow up to be a healthy and happy lass, then a bonny young woman. If I have the knowledge and the tools to help, why would I not? She’s a wean. She doesn’t ken yet why people are different, what makes them good or bad. She only kens kindness, and that’s what she needs right now.”

  Meg stood looking at her daughter who slept in her arms, then nodded. “Will ye come in the morn? Can I ask for ye if I need ye?”

  “Of course. Day or night.” Cairren smiled as she brushed out her skirts. She turned toward Padraig, who took her hand. The festivities had lost its merriment, and people drifted home. Halfway back to the keep, Padraig stopped and encircled Cairren’s waist before kissing her. It was languid and soft as Padraig poured in feelings he didn’t understand and was unable to articulate. He needed Cairren to know that he was proud of her, impressed by her knowledge and her character, and that he appreciated what she’d done. But there was more. Something inside of him had shifted while he watched her tend to the little girl. The gentle strength she’d shown, her dignified command of the situation, her empathy to both mother and child was more than he’d ever seen before. He’d imagined Cairren holding their own bairn one day, and he realized as he kissed her, the child had looked like Cairren, not him. The idea made him want to hurry them to their bed rather than run for the hills. And as the kiss drew on, he knew that his chamber and his bed were now their chamber and their bed. He didn’t want her to return to the guest bedchamber.

  “Stay with me,” Padraig murmured against her lips. When she opened her mouth, he dropped a quick kiss to silence her. “I mean in our chamber every night.”

  Cairren pulled away, and a hard set entered her eyes. Padraig realized that she hadn’t understood what he’d tried to convey. She believed he spoke solely from lust. He was sure he’d felt something different from her kiss too, but she was guarded against him disappointing her again. She was prepared to defend herself rather than accept any more failed attempts.

  “Ren, I’m not asking just so it’s convenient for me to bed you. I’m asking because I want my wife by my side. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms and wake to you there, too.”

  Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head. “You’re a fickle mon, Padraig. You say that now, the night of what should have been your wedding to another woman. I won’t be able to bear the pain when you change your mind again and tell me to leave.” Cairren swiped away the tears that fell, glancing around to ensure no one saw her. “Let’s get through the next few nights while my clansmen are here.”

  They walked back to the keep in silence, not saying a word as they undressed. Cairren climbed into bed, still wearing her chemise, but she felt Padraig’s arm wrap around her waist as his body slid close to her just as she fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  For the next sennight, Padraig lived in a land of limbo. He made progress with his guests each day, training with them each morning and into the early afternoon. They gained a mutual respect between Highlander and Lowlanders. He was sore but satisfied each day as he entered the Great Hall for the evening meal. He avoided Myrna despite her repeated attempts to catch him alone. His heart ached to see the hurt and confusion in her eyes, but he’d spent a great deal of time thinking about the woman he’d seen since Cairren arrived. He didn’t want to believe that who he’d witnessed over the past two moons had lurked within Myrna all along. He tried to convince himself that the situation proved too much for her and made her react poorly. But as he watched her silent loathing toward Cairren and continued to hear her agree with his mother’s nasty comments, he suspected the hatefulness had always been there. She’d just never had a reason to show it before. He kept his distance, and it allowed him to preserve the image he clung to.

  Cairren shared his chamber, and they coupled throughout the night, neither able to deny themselves or the other. But he didn’t know where she disappeared to during the day while he and her clansmen were in the lists. Wynda spent her days tending to Duncan, so he knew Cairren wasn’t with her. She would smile and say she found things to do, but she never elaborated. The only thing he was certain of was that she worked on a tapestry at her loom, which had been set up in near the window in his chamber. She continued to refer to the room as his, so he didn’t press the matter. But he couldn’t account for the other hours of the day until she went for walks or rides with Daniel, Alex, and Jamie. As Padraig got to know the men better, his jealousy abated. He understood that Alex and Jamie saw Cairren as their sister, and she was more of a daughter to Daniel.

  Despite his offers, Cairren continued to take her meals at the lower table, sitting between Alex and Jamie and across from Daniel. It was clear they guarded her, and guilt ate at him that there was a need and that they were fulfilling what should have been his role. But it was the most lighthearted Padraig had seen Cairren since they met, and so he wouldn’t change anything for that.

  Padraig made his way through the village, having checked on a croft that suffered roof damage during the last storm. He�
��d spent the morning away from the lists, making rounds that Duncan couldn’t while he convalesced from the injuries Padraig gave him. He was near the outskirts of the village when he spotted Cairren leaving Meg’s croft. The women stood chatting in the doorway, and it shocked Padraig to see Meg offer Cairren a hug. He hung back and watched as Cairren kissed Katie’s forehead and turned toward the keep. He’d seen she was tempted to offer that affection the night Katie was hurt, but he knew she hadn’t dared. She looked back once, and Meg and Katie waved, her little hand still bandaged. When Cairren was out of sight, he went to Meg’s croft and knocked.

  “Padraig, ye just missed yer wife,” Meg smiled as she shifted Katie to the other hip. He could hear her other children playing behind her.

  “I ken. I saw her leaving. How’re things?”

  Meg grinned. “Ye want to ken if I’ve tried to gut her. Nay, I havenae. She’s been an angel to Katie and the other weans. I couldnae do what she does. I have to take maself out when she tends to Katie’s hands. I canna manage her cries. I can tell it hurts her heart, but she’s braver than me. She’s taught the older ones how to keep Katie from putting her hands in her mouth and how to change her bandages. Do ye ken, she’s even taught them to sing and count in French? Ma weans speaking French!”

  Padraig considered how to phrase his question. “Do you feel comfortable with her in your home?”

  Meg grew serious and raised her chin. “Do ye mean, do I fear she’ll dirty ma home and ma children? Do I still fear she’s a witch? Nay, I dinna fear aught when Lady Cairren visits. She’s teaching me to sweeten drinks to hide the taste of the medicinals I give Katie, and she’s offered me medicinals for the other weans who canna seem to stop their dribbly noses. They taste horrid without the disguise. Now the weans drink it, and I can see them improving. She’s an angel, I tell ye.”