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

by Celeste Barclay

  Chapter Thirty

  Padraig woke to the feel of Cairren stretching beside him. They agreed to have the servants move Cairren’s belongings into his chamber, and that she would consider it theirs. They’d lain in bed talking late into the night about what Padraig would do that morning, as well as what they wanted their future to look like together. Neither spoke of love or even any emotions, but they finally created the truce they’d been fighting for.

  Padraig kissed Cairren’s forehead before lowering his mouth to hers. It was only a moment later that their need consumed them both. Cairren’s hand wrapped around his length, stroking him as his fingers dipped into her sheath. She brushed her thumb over the tip of his cock and felt the viscous liquid leaking. She’d offered more than once to reciprocate the pleasure he offered her with his mouth, but he argued he would never expect a lady to perform such an act. As she gazed up at him, she decided her curiosity outweighed his objections. She pushed back the covers and slipped down the bed, her tongue darting out to lap at his tip before Padraig realized her intentions. He groaned as her tongue swirled around the flat head of his cock before sliding along its length. She laved him, wrapping her tongue around him before sliding her mouth over his rod. She eased her mouth down his length, growing accustomed to the feel. When she hummed her appreciation, his cock twitched. Padraig reached for her and snagged her hips. He pulled them toward him until he had a view of his favorite destination.

  “If that is how we are breaking our fast, then I shall feast too, little one.”

  Cairren squealed when she felt his tongue pressed against her entrance, but it soon turned to a moan as his motions matched hers. She cupped his bollocks as her other hand stroked what she couldn’t manage. Padraig’s hips rocked as his fingers bit into her backside. When his teeth grazed her nub, she drew him in deeper, her cheeks hollowing. She came undone when he added two fingers to his attack on her senses. Padraig pulled her free, setting her on her hands and knees before pouncing. He grasped her hips once again and thrust into her.

  “Is this what you want, Ren? Do you want me inside you?”

  “Always, Padraig,” she panted. She sat up, her back arching as she reached an arm over her shoulder to guide his mouth to hers. They rocked together as Padraig’s hands circled her nipple and her nub. Pleasure exploded through Cairren as Padraig continued to piston his hips, thrusting into her over and over until his teeth grazed her shoulder, and he felt his climax tighten his bollocks.

  They curled together, Cairren’s back pressed against Padraig’s chest, panting while Padraig stroked her shoulder. He kissed the satiny skin as his hand slid along her ribs until his hand rested on her belly.

  “Mmm, I could fall back to sleep like this,” Cairren mused.

  “It’s still early, little one. Why not go back to sleep? I must leave soon, but I hope to be back before midday. I wouldn’t mind finding you just as you are now and making a meal of you again.”

  “Only if you allow me to enjoy the same courses as you.”

  “Cheeky,” Padraig chuckled as he playfully spanked her backside. “Now that I ken you find me such a delicacy, perhaps I should indulge you whenever you wish.”

  “You indulge me? I think you found that quite satisfying too.”

  Padraig rolled her over and kissed her neck as he tickled her. “More than quite. I’d go so far as to say highly.”

  Their eyes met, and Padraig growled, “Ren.”

  “Pad—” Cairren was cut off as Padraig’s mouth crashed back down to hers, but a knock on the door forced them apart. “Naught good ever comes from people knocking on the bluidy door,” Cairren grumbled. Padraig laughed as he handed Cairren her robe, and he wrapped his plaid around his waist. He opened the door and listened to the man on the other side.

  “Ren, you’re needed in the village. It seems a lad has a fever, and his mother can’t get it down. She’s asking for your help.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I’m dressed.” Cairren slipped from the bed and pulled out fresh clothes for the day. A rueful smile passed between them as they both hurried to get ready. “Do you still agree to take two guards with you?”

  “Aye, I will.”

  “Take Peter and Henry. I trust them to be discreet. Please.”

  “They’re supposed to guard you, not me.”

  “I know, and maybe you have better choices, but they’re kind to me. They know aught that would hurt you would hurt me. They won’t speak of aught they see or hear.”

  “That is true. Very well, since you asked so nicely.” Padraig gave Cairren another kiss as they left their chamber together. Padraig carried Cairren’s basket until they parted in the bailey. Cairren hurried into the village while Padraig sought the guards Cairren suggested.

  Padraig was growing restless. He’d sent Peter and Henry to wait where he knew they could see the spot he’d indicated but wouldn’t easily be able to hear. Padraig suspected Myrna would use the same clearing where they’d met countless times over the two years he courted her. It was past mid-morning, and he feared neither of them would show. A moment of doubt entered his mind that Cairren had sent him on a fool’s errand, but he pushed the thought away as quickly as it came to him. They’d finally achieved the truce they should have come to within days of their wedding. He couldn’t keep from smiling as he remembered how they’d started their morning together. His mind drifted to how they’d spent much of their night until a horse’s whinny brought him to the present. It came from in front of him, so he knew it was his brother arriving first. Padraig glanced at his guards, who had disappeared behind a bush. He knew they were there, but he couldn’t even see their shadows. He hid behind the trunk of a large elm and watched as his brother dismounted in the exact place he had dozens of times. Duncan scanned the surrounding area as he tied his horse to a nearby tree.

  It wasn’t long before the sound of galloping hooves pounded toward him. He checked to his left and noticed a swath of blonde hair floating toward him. He remained out of sight as Myrna rode by, so close he would only need to stretch to touch her. She reined in and reached out for Duncan, who lifted her from the saddle. Padraig thought he would be ill as he watched the woman he once loved and believed he would marry fumble to move her clothes out of the way before his brother thrust into her. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as Myrna demanded what she wanted, using words Padraig never imagined she knew. He glanced at the bush where Peter and Henry hid and prayed they weren’t watching. He doubted Henry would since he loved and feared his wife, but Peter was a bachelor. The image Duncan and Myrna created was erotic, and had it been anyone else, Padraig might have found it arousing. But he watched as his brother thrust into the love of his life.

  Wait. Nay. She isnae the one great love of ma life. I feel naught right now. It’s like watching ma brother with a stranger who I know I should feel something for, but there’s naught there. I’m nay angry, though I am disgusted, but I’m nae as hurt as I thought I would be. He watched Duncan and Myrna as they grunted and groaned. If that were Cairren, it would devastate me. I would be ready to rain down Hell’s fury on him, and I believe I’d be a blubbering mess while begging Cairren to pick me instead. I thought that’s how I would feel now, but I’m just empty.

  Padraig moved back behind the tree trunk until he heard their voices again.

  “I’ve asked Mama and Papa to offer my hand to you. We can finally be together, Duncan,” Myrna bubbled.

  “Aye. Married,” Duncan mumbled.

  “You don’t sound excited. It’s what we’ve wanted for years.” Myrna’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t it?”

  “Myr, there are more advantageous matches that I must think aboot for when I’m laird. We can meet here whenever we want, or you can return as a guest. My mother favors you as a companion.”

  “What? That isn’t what we’ve talked aboot. I was to marry Padraig so we—you and I—could be together. Now you’re considering marrying someone else and just, what, rutting me in the woods for the re
st of time?”

  “Then come back as my leman.” Duncan grinned, and Padraig recognized the expression. It was the smug one he wore when he thought he’d outsmarted someone.

  “Your leman?” Myrna’s chin jerked forward in disbelief.

  “You already are, so why not make it official?”

  “Because I’m not a widow or a peasant. I’ve never married. I can’t publicly be your mistress.” Myrna shook her head as she narrowed her eyes. “You just wanted to have what Padraig had. Now that he no longer wants me, neither do you.”

  “You’ve always been smarter than you look,” Duncan sneered. “But I’ve been tossing your skirts longer than Padraig’s been sniffing at them.”

  “But what aboot our plans? We already ken you can get me with child easier than you ever did that brittle bag of bones. She was worthless as a wife. But not only would I give you sons, but I would be a worthy partner to help you lead.”

  “I don’t need a partner. Not one who's proven to be little more than a whore in a pretty dress. You’ve admitted yourself that you’ve bedded my men and half the guards at your keep.”

  Padraig thought he would be ill as he listened to Duncan announce that not only had Myrna lain with him, but with men Padraig trusted and fought alongside. He glanced at the bush and saw Peter looking at him. The warrior’s eyes were enormous as he shrugged. At least it wasn’t a commonly known secret. Small bluidy consolation. Padraig turned his attention back to Myrna and Duncan as they continued to argue.

  “My father has already sent a missive to Micheil, and I know Mary will support my cause.”

  “Do you really want to watch Padraig moon over his brown bitch? They’re practically humping morn, noon, and night.”

  “What do I care? Perhaps I will marry you and fuck him.” Myrna screamed as Duncan grasped her chin and drove her back against a tree.

  “And maybe I’ll marry you for your pittance of a dowry, then kill you too.” Duncan spat. They stared at each other a long moment before Duncan squeezed Myrna’s breast and crashed his mouth down to hers. Myrna tugged her skirts up as Duncan’s hand disappeared beneath the layers of fabric. After Myrna cried out her release, he spun her around and pressed her front against the tree. He spoke softly, but Padraig was certain he heard his brother say, “I’ve had your cunny, now I’ll have your arse,” before he tossed his plaid out of the way. Myrna cried out in surprised pain, but Padraig noticed she smiled and pushed her hips back to meet Duncan’s cock as he fisted her hair.

  Padraig had seen more than enough. He never imagined that he would witness such carnal activity between Duncan and another woman, let alone the one he’d been set to marry only weeks earlier. He wished for a way to leave without being seen, but he was stuck.

  “My little bird,” Duncan crooned, and Padraig thought he would be ill. “I think I will marry you after all. Your cunny and arsehole are too good to pass up swiving every night. Did you really fear that I wouldn’t?”

  Padraig peeked around the tree trunk, curious about Myrna’s reaction. He watched her cast Duncan her coy smile, the one that had made him hard so many times. Now it did nothing to stir him.

  “I had faith you’d remember why we’ve been so good together for so long. You wouldn’t have kept coming back to me for four years if you didn’t know a marvelous thing when you have it.”

  Four years? They began their affair before I even considered her old enough to court. Disgusting bastard. Disgusting bitch. They deserve each other. He’d heard all he could stomach. He signaled to Peter, who he could see nudged Henry. They crept away from their hiding places on silent feet until they could retrieve their horses. They rode back to the keep in silence.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cairren tried not to curl her nose in revulsion as the child sneezed on her again. She felt bad for the little boy who coughed until he was hoarse, but she didn’t enjoy knowing she was likely to catch whatever he spewed onto her. She’d helped the little boy, Douglas, and his mother, Athne, since early morning. She’d given him three cool baths despite the woman’s protest that bathing so often would only make him worse. Cairren explained that the cool water would help bring down his fever, and while Athne grumbled, she finally admitted that the bath was helping to do what the willow bark tea hadn’t.

  “Athne, I will leave this coltsfoot for you. Add a little honey when you brew the tea. It will make the tea thicker to coat Douglas’s throat. That will help with the cough, especially at night. If he has those bouts of coughing again, you must use the sheet and steaming water that I showed you. It’s the only way he’ll catch his breath. I’ve already ground the black mustard seeds. Remember, you can add them to a warm bath or the poultice I made. Only mix it with the poultice when you’re ready to use it. If you let it sit, it won’t be as effective. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on him. When he’s on the mend, I’ll show you how to make a tea from speedwell. If you give it to him regularly, then he shouldn’t get sick again so easily.”

  Cairren looked at the woman who seemed to stare past her. She turned to find Father Mitchell standing outside the open door. She smiled, but the priest’s face grew red, as though she’d insulted him.

  “Leave this God-fearing woman’s house, you slattern.” Father Mitchell barked. Cairren stared dumbfounded, but Athne jumped as if it revived her from a trance.

  “She’s brewing potions to poison ma wean!” Athne shouted, and Cairren heard the murmur of voices outside, but she couldn’t see the people.

  “I did not. You asked for me to come here, and I helped relieve your son’s fever and end his coughing fits. There’s naught wrong with what I used. They’re commonly known remedies.”

  “For a witch who practices the dark arts,” Father Mitchell accused.

  “Nay. These are remedies your previous healer surely used. Athne, I didn’t say aught while I made the teas. All I talked aboot was how to make them yourself.”

  “Ye would have me poison ma wean. Ye must have thought yer curses.”

  Cairren looked out the window as a crowd gathered. She couldn’t believe the woman was claiming things that would likely get Cairren burned at the stake before Padraig rode back into the bailey.

  “Bring the witch out here,” Father Mitchell ordered before stepping aside. Two hulking guards dragged Cairren from the croft. She recognized them as the men who’d laughed the second and third times she requested guards. She regretted telling Padraig he should take Peter and Henry with him. Dougal was still injured, and Padraig granted Matthew time off to stay with Catriona and Liam. She didn’t have a guard with her that day. As the men dragged her past Father Micheil, he flicked what looked like holy water at her, but it burned when it touched her skin.

  “Aughhh,” Cairren spluttered as more water hit her skin. She knew it was barely diluted lye. She could smell it, and she didn’t understand why no one else seemed to notice.

  “It burns her! She is a witch!” Father Mitchell crowed. “Have her locked in the dungeon.”

  She watched as the crowd stood stunned at Father Mitchell’s pronouncement. Many looked around, unsure whether to agree with the priest. Cairren could tell that several were tempted to side with him, heads slowly starting to nod.

  “She isnae a witch,” Meg’s voice called out as she pushed through the crowd. “She’s a kind woman who saved ma lassie’s hands.”

  “With her heresies,” Father Mitchell sneered.

  “Nay. With kindness,” Meg argued.

  “You’ve told others that you went outside when Lady Cairren treated Katie. You didn’t see the evil she cast over your daughter, but you heard her screams. Why did you do naught?” the priest demanded.

  “I refuse to believe this. Ma daughter’s hands healed because of Lady Cairren. It had naught to do with evil. It had to do with experience and kindness.”

  “What aboot Catriona’s bairn? She practiced dark arts to bring the bairn into the world, then wove a spell to make him a changeling. That’s why the sick
ly bairn now thrives.” A woman’s voice called from the back.

  “I was with ma daughter and grandbairn the entire time,” Elspeth called out. She pushed to stand next to Cairren. “I was doubtful too. Nae because of witchery, but because she’s foreign. But I watched. She saved ma lass’s life and her bairn’s. Padraig was with her when she came back to help wee Liam’s breathing. He wouldnae allowed evil to enter our home. He would ken.”

  “She’s bewitched him,” Father Mitchell retorted. He flung more lye at Cairren, but she was unprepared. It splashed her face, and she cried out. “See. Proof. It still burns. Lock her in the dungeon.”

  “Nay!” Meg cried out. “If ye’re wrong, Padraig will lash ye all. If ye insist on locking her away, put her in her chamber. But mark ma words, ye will have a reckoning, and it willna be with God. It’ll be with Padraig. And for yer sake, ye should fear him more.”

  Cairren didn’t struggle as the men shuffled her away. She entered the Great Hall to Mary and Micheil rushing forward. She witnessed equal looks of shock before smugness replaced it.

  “I always knew she was naught but filth,” Mary hissed.

  Cairren did what she could to keep up with the men, but she stumbled over her skirts several times as they dragged her up the stairs. They thrust her into her chamber, but she didn’t hear the door lock from the outside. She put her ear to the door and heard a slight rustling, but she suspected the men were walking away. She ran to the ewer, but it was empty. This wasn’t supposed to be her chamber anymore. Her face still burned, but far less than it had when the water first splattered it. She’d been fortunate it hadn’t splashed in her eye. She prayed Padraig returned soon, but it was barely midmorning.

  Cairren lay on the bed and closed her eyes. She replayed the entire day from when she woke beside Padraig to working tirelessly to help Douglas to the confrontation in the village. Her head pounded as she considered her options. Padraig was but one man. Both of his parents, along with his older brother--who was the laird’s heir--and the clan’s priest all despised her. They would gladly agree to putting her to the fire now because they had her dowry and no longer had a need for her. This was the excuse they needed to do away with her. The look of confusion and shock on Mary and Micheil’s faces made her think they hadn’t conspired with the priest, but they would support his accusations. Micheil would decree her a witch and light the straw they would pack beneath her feet.