“Lady Cairren, come quick. It’s Dougal. He’s hurt his arm something horrible. It’s nae hanging right.” Cairren didn’t recognize the man who called out to her, but she picked up her skirts and hurried onto the field. Peter led the way, and Henry soon followed, ensuring she had a clear path to the injured man. She found Dougal, one of the largest men she’d ever met but with a gentle soul, lying on the ground unconscious. His arm hung at an odd angle with the bone protruding from the skin. She pushed her way to the front of the crowd and kneeled beside him.
“There’s naught to do for that,” a deep voice rumbled behind Cairren.
“Aye. The blacksmith’ll have to take it,” another man spoke with certainty.
“He was a fine warrior.” The final comment made Cairren growl.
“If you think he will die or be maimed for life, you can bluidy well leave this field right now. I don’t need you lot breathing down my neck while I fix his arm. Now either shut your gobs or move along. I don’t want to hear another word.” Cairren turned to find Padraig standing beside her. She nodded to him before removing her arisaid and folding it to place beneath Dougal’s arm. “I need whisky. Plenty of it.”
While she waited for someone to retrieve what she needed, she looked through her medicinal basket and pulled out what she would use to pack the wound once she’d set the bone. She had bandages in the basket's bottom, so she pulled those out. She sent a warrior to chop two flat pieces of wood to use as splints. When the whisky arrived, she took a healthy swig to the hoots of several men; however, they went silent at her scathing glare. She poured some onto her hands and rubbed them together before using one of the bandages to dry them. She felt along Dougal’s arm, and as she suspected, he came alert as soon as she moved it. She helped him hold the jug of whisky to his mouth and encouraged him to drink deeply until his eyes rolled back. She eased his head to the ground and looked up at Padraig.
“I need three men to hold him down while I work.” Padraig nodded and pointed to two other men close to Padraig’s size. They pinned down each of his legs while Padraig held down Dougal’s other arm. Cairren poured whisky on the open wound. Dougal jerked awake and failed his arm. He knocked Cairren over, but she scrambled back to grab his arm before he could do more damage.
“Hold him down,” she ordered the other men. “Dougal, this will hurt. I’m sorry. I will set this on three. One—" Cairren simultaneously pushed and pulled, and the bone slid back into place.
“Ye didna say thwee,” Dougal drawled.
“I ken, but I needed you to not tense. You would have if you thought it would happen when I said three.”
“She kicked me in the shin before she set my nose,” Padraig offered. Cairren pursed her lips but smiled.
“I’m certain you deserved it, along with it distracting you.” Cairren offered Dougal more whisky before she packed the wound with yarrow and prepared to sew it closed. “Dougal, I ken you live in the barracks, but I really think you should stay with your parents for a wee while. I fear you might develop a fever, and you’ll need someone to brew willow bark tea and keep an eye on you.”
“Aye, Dougal. Ye’ll want yer mam to look after ye,” teased a man Cairren believed was named Jonathon.
“Tha thu nad asal,” Cairren muttered that he was an arse, and the men who heard howled with laughter.
“We agree wi ye, ma wady,” Dougal slurred. This only made the crowd laugh more.
“Can you help me get him up?” Cairren looked at Padraig, and he nodded. Once Dougal was on his feet and mostly upright, Padraig dismissed Henry and Peter to help Dougal to his parents’ croft, insisting that he would accompany Cairren.
“Have you been up to the battlements yet, Ren?”
Cairren shook her head as she blinked away tears. She didn’t want to weaken to Padraig, but the sound of his special pet name for her tore at her. “This didn’t seem like a wise place to come,” she answered as Padraig led her up the stairs.
“On a cloudless day, it feels as if you can see for forever.” Padraig pointed to the clear sky overhead. They walked in silence until they reached the portion of the wall walk that overlooked the loch. “Cairren, now that one of the major obstacles for us is no longer here, can we start fresh?”
Cairren pushed her hair out of her eyes as the wind lifted it. Padraig was gazing at her with the same softness as when they used to lie in her bed and talk, learning about one another’s interests and tastes. It felt as if that were a lifetime ago. She looked out over the fields and considered what she would say.
“What happens if she returns?” she asked at last.
“I don’t think she will. She has no reason to.”
Cairren turned her head to look at Padraig again, struggling to decide whether to tell him what she knew. “Your family wants an alliance with hers, and your brother is now a widower. Your parents might arrange their marriage.”
“Nay. Myrna would never agree. She loves me. She would never agree to marry Duncan.”
“You still believe she loves you?”
“Why else would she have fought so much for me?”
“Mayhap because she hates me and hates losing to me? Or at least that’s how she looks at it.”
“She was fighting for us. Cairren, it matters not anymore what she or I want.”
Cairren shook her head. “Want? Not wanted, but want? As in now, not the past. You’re unbelievable.” Cairren turned away and took a step, but Padraig moved around her, blocking her way.
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” Cairren demanded.
“She was fighting for us because we loved each other. She wasn’t willing to give up on us, even if I want to move on.”
“Unwilling to give up on you?” Cairren opened her mouth to say more but snapped it shut and shook her head. “You say you want to move on. How do I know that the first time she comes back here, and mark my words she will, that you won’t go running to her like you always do?”
“Because I’m the one who sent her home, and I’ve been avoiding her for sennights.”
“It didn’t look like you were avoiding her when I walked into the Great Hall to find my husband holding her hands in front of the entire clan. Again.” Cairren narrowed her eyes. “And you seemed awfully eager to hear what she had to say when she was speaking out against me. Somehow I doubt you’d believe me so easily if I told you the truth aboot her.”
“What truth?”
“She and Duncan have been lovers for years,” Cairren blurted out. She stunned herself and took a step back.
“Why would you make up such a horrid lie, Cairren? You always claim that you’re honest. You want me to believe the woman I love and my brother are sneaking around behind my back.”
“The woman you love? A moment ago, it was loved. Now you’re back to being in love. You fickle fool. I hope she comes back. I hope she marries Duncan. And I hope you have to watch them fuck right in front of you like I did.” Cairren spun around and ran along the battlements, uncaring of who watched her, and uncaring that Padraig didn’t follow her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Padraig watched Cairren run away from him, his heart in his throat as she raced down the slick steps to the bailey and then into the keep. He couldn’t believe what she’d said. He replayed what they each said, and he’d gotten stuck in his own loop of thoughts, sometimes saying he was in love with Myrna and sometimes saying that was in the past. He didn’t even know at this point, but Cairren’s accusations about Myrna and Duncan left him reeling. He couldn’t imagine Myrna and Duncan together, but Myrna’s suggestion that she lose her maidenhead to another man made him wonder who she had in mind.
Could it have been Duncan? Did she already lose it to him? That canna be possible. I know he wasnae faithful to Wynda, but Myrna isnae his type. Padraig drew up short as he thought about that again. The Myrna I thought I knew, the one I insist on believing is the authentic version of her wasnae his type. But the Myrna I
’ve seen since Cairren arrived is exactly Duncan’s type. Maybe I’m the fool Cairren keeps claiming. But if it’s true, I’ve wasted years being duped and loving a woman who doesnae really exist. And now—and now it’s pride that doesnae want to give up on Myrna. I dinna want to admit that I’ve been wrong. It hurts too bluidy much.
Padraig looked back at the keep and where Cairren had been several minutes ago. He needed to know for sure. He needed to know if she could prove it or if she was just making up things to hurt him.
She’s nae the spiteful one, though. Her words often hurt, but it’s always because I dinna want to accept the truth. I left Myrna alone in favor of Cairren, but ma words never show that. God, could I have been that wrong all along? I think I’ve known I have been but ma bluidy pride... He pushed away from the wall and made his way into the keep. He needed to finish his conversation with Cairren.
Cairren used the candle flame to ease the wax open from the missive she’d snagged from a Ross messenger. With the single letter “D” on the smooth surface, she’d recognized Myrna’s writing. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she didn’t care. She would know one way or another, and she would prove it to Padraig if he wanted the truth. If he didn’t, then she would let sleeping dogs lie.
D,
Tomorrow in the woods. I’ll be there midmorning. Come to me, my love.
M
Cairren read the missive and quickly closed it, heating the wax to reseal it. She left her chamber and crept along the passageway until she made her way down one flight of steps. She put her ear to Duncan’s door, and when she heard nothing, she eased it open. She crept inside and placed the missive on the table before fleeing. She dashed back up to her chamber and considered whether it mattered if Padraig knew. She hadn’t intended to tell him, at least not how she did, but the words had flown out of her mouth borne of frustration and endless hurt. She closed her eyes and focused on what her intuition tried to tell her. What did her mind want her to do? The different parts fought one another.
Even if Padraig believes me, and even if he doesn’t love Myrna anymore, that doesn’t mean he loves me. That doesn’t mean things are resolved with the clan. Things may be better, but I’m not deaf to the rumors nor blind to how people look at me. Padraig has kept anyone from being outright aggressive to me, but I still don’t belong here.
A soft knock on her door drew her away from her thoughts. She shook out her skirts and opened the door, surprised to find Padraig on the other side. She stepped back to let him in. As Padraig stepped inside, he looked around and memories of the first weeks they spent together sharing Cairren’s bed each night flooded back to him. He wanted her back in bed beside him, be it the one in front of him or the one in his chamber.
“I don’t want to believe you, Ren, but I know you don’t lie.” Padraig ran his hand though his black hair and looked at his petite wife, who watched him like a hawk. “Do you have proof of what you said?”
“Aye. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Padraig, it doesn’t give me any pleasure to hurt you like this. That’s not why I told you. Yes, I was hurting and blurted it out, but it wasn’t to cause you pain. I’m angry that you never listen to me, never believe me, and yet I’ve done naught to deceive you. I’ve been honest from the beginning.” Cairren walked to her chest and lifted the lid before pushing various items to the side, so she could discreetly open the false bottom and pull out the letters. When she had the missives in her hand, she stood. Padraig watched her debate whether to give them to him, and he feared they were even worse than he could imagine. She sat on the bed and patted the spot beside her. When Padraig took the space she offered, she handed the stack to him. He immediately recognized Myrna’s handwriting, having received plenty of missives from her over the years. He opened and read one after another, the knot in his chest threatening to suffocate him.
“Did you read all of these?” Padraig whispered.
“Aye. I’m sorry, Padraig. I didn’t imagine this. I didn’t even pick up on the hints Wynda left until after I discovered these in her chest. She couldn’t have been able to read them all, but she knew they were important.”
“What’s this spot she keeps mentioning?”
Cairren sighed, and her shoulders drooped. “It’s a thicket near the heather and thistle field. I accidently discovered it the day you assigned me an escort. I was walking back from picking heather,” she pointed to the bunches hanging upside down to dry. “And I heard voices. I feared who might be there, so I hid. I recognized Duncan’s voice first, then Myrna’s. They were—it doesn’t matter what they were doing. I heard Duncan confess that he killed Wynda and that she knew aboot their affair.”
“None of it was real. Nae even in the beginning.” Padraig looked at the missives in his hands and on his lap. Page after page of the truth. That Myrna had never loved him and that she’d been using him to be close to Duncan. She’d loved him all along, but hadn’t been old enough to marry him when Micheil sought a bride for Duncan. “I loved a figment of ma imagination.”
Cairren laid her hand over his and squeezed but remained quiet. He appreciated her silent strength, but he couldn’t sit any longer. He needed to pace. He dropped the missives onto the bed and stalked back and forth across the chamber. Cairren watched him, and he could see the worry etched in the creases across her brow.
“They’re still meeting, arenae they?" Padraig demanded as he whirled on Cairren. She leaned away even though she sat on the bed, and he was on the other side of the chamber. She nodded but wouldn’t meet his eyes. "When?”
“Tomorrow, mid-morn.”
“In the same place?”
“Yes. It’s a grove of trees just over an hour’s walk from here.”
“I know where you’re talking aboot. It’s halfway to Balnagown. I used to meet Myrna there too. What an eejit I’ve been.”
“Padraig, there’s naught wrong in wanting to believe in the best in people. This is a plan they cooked up together.”
“And I’ve been their willing dupe for years. I’ve been in love with someone who doesnae exist.”
Cairren didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know if he referred to the past or the present, and it hurt too much to ask, so she opted for another question. “What will you do?”
“I’ll ride out early in the morn and wait for them.”
“Are you going to confront them?” Cairren stood from the bed. “Padraig, please say no. I don’t trust them not to hurt you. If not in the trees, then later. Padraig, Duncan frightens me.” Cairren finished in a whisper. Padraig stalked across the room and pulled Cairren into his arms. He tucked her head against his chest and wrapped her in his embrace.
“How can you still care what happens to me? Has he done aught else since that day I broke his jaw or the time he caught ye in the passageway?”
“Vulgar comments from time to time and ambiguous threats, but naught like those two times. But if he killed Wynda to get her out of the way, then I don’t doubt he’d hurt you too. I know this is hard, but please, if you ride out there, will you take two guards with you?”
“Nay. I have to do this alone.”
“And if you don’t come back? Will your pride keep you company in your grave?” Cairren trembled as she imagined Duncan strangling Padraig as he did Wynda. Despite Padraig being bigger and stronger, even a more skilled warrior, Cairren wouldn’t underestimate Duncan’s willingness to do anything to get what he wanted.
“Vera well. I will take two. Only because it’s ma pride that’s caused all of yer misery since ye arrived.”
“It’s not the only cause. I mean, there have been other contributors to my difficult arrival.” Cairren shut her eyes as she stumbled over her choice of words yet again.
“Ye are honest, ma little Ren. Ye ken ye once warned me that ye might sound like a magpie. I’ve never mentioned how beautiful yer voice is. Ye are like the wee songbird. At least I’ve been right aboot that from the beginning.”
Cairren leaned back and smi
led. Their gaze grew heated, and Padraig ran his thumb over her cheekbone before lowering his mouth until the heat from his lips soaked into her without so much as touching. He waited for her to pull away, but she lifted her chin and opened to him. The initial taste of Cairren’s minty breath went to Padraig’s head. He felt drunk as he pressed his tongue into her mouth. It had only been days since they’d last kissed, but it felt like a lifetime to them both. Anger and frustration gave way to a need to reconnect. They were like magnets, always finding their way back to one another.
They struggled out of their clothes until Padraig could lift Cairren, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked forward until her back bumped against the wall, his cock already buried with in her. She moaned as she rocked against him. He nipped at her shoulder and neck as her arm wrapped around his head, pressing him closer. When he could bear it no longer, his mouth sought hers once again. Their kisses matched the hunger their bodies felt as they moved together.
“Ren, naught can ever feel better, feel more right than being inside ye. It’s like coming home every time.”
“I wish we could remain hidden from the rest of the world, making our own haven.”
Their movements became more urgent as Padraig thrust harder and faster, listening to Cairren’s moans of encouragement. He wanted to feel her core tighten around him, knowing that he was the reason for her release. As her body went taut, and she screamed, he felt his seed entering her, and he knew he’d made the right choice, even if he’d nearly lost her more than once. He was the only man who had touched Cairren, and he was certain of it. He never should have let the doubt cross his mind. She was his, and he was hers. He would die proving it if he had to.
An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5) Page 22
