“I will ensure you get your loom. It’s special to you, and I wouldn’t deny you something you love.” I wouldnae deny ye aught.
“Thank you. That means a great deal to me,” Cairren choked out. She didn’t resist leaning back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around hers. Padraig kissed the crown of her head, then pulled his arms away. He watched as she hurriedly packed her satchel with items she would need during the six-day ride. When she finished, Padraig carried it out to the bailey where a stable hand already saddled her horse. Lachlan and his men were checking their mounts. Padraig scanned the waiting steeds and didn’t see his among them. He scowled at Lachlan, who only shrugged. Padraig ordered his horse prepared as he approached Lachlan.
“I will accompany my wife. You and your men may return to Dunrobin,” Padraig announced, but Lachlan shook his head.
“I trust you--sort of--but I don’t trust any of your guards. My father tasked me with seeing Lady Cairren to Stirling, and that’s what I shall do.”
“Your company is not needed,” Padraig growled.
“That’s where you are wrong. You have a choice, Padraig: let us ride with you or we ride behind you. But either way, Lady Cairren remains within my sight.”
“Why does this matter to you?” Padraig’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t be like that. I have no designs on your wife. She is my sister’s friend, and my father is concerned aboot her. I’m concerned, too. What kind of mon would I be if I weren’t after yesterday?”
Padraig nodded begrudgingly. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt better travelling with more men, ones who had proven they were willing to defend Cairren. “Very well. Let me arrange for my men.” Padraig turned away to find Matthew, Peter, Henry, and Dougal approaching with their satchels and bedrolls. All four men looked forlorn, and it made Padraig wonder if they weren’t all a little in love with his wife. He watched with amusement as Cairren stepped in front of Dougal and shook her head emphatically. He couldn’t see her finger, but could see her arm move and knew she was wagging her finger at him.
“Absolutely not, Dougal. You’ll do more harm than good.”
“Ma lady, I’ve travelled with three cracked ribs.”
“And how was that? Not so enjoyable, I bet.”
“Hurt a damn sight less than this,” Dougal grumbled.
“And I’ll feel wretchedly guilty the entire time,” Cairren cocked an eyebrow and lifted her chin defiantly. But she softened her tone when she added, “Dougal, I trust you with my life, but I don’t want you to come to harm for my sake.”
Padraig stepped forward and looked around. “What I need most from you, Dougal, is to remain here and keep an eye on my family and the guards. I need to ken whether it’ll ever be safe to bring Lady Cairren back. I trust you.”
Dougal looked between Padraig and Cairren then nodded, some of his sense of purpose restored. Cairren looked at Matthew, and her brow furrowed. “Are you sure you want to leave Catriona and Liam for so long?”
“Ma wife practically pushed me out the door and told me there’d be nay more bairns—nay more practicing making bairns—if I didna accompany ye, ma lady.” Matthew blushed as he listened to Peter, Henry, and Dougal guffaw. Matthew elbowed Henry, who stood closest to him.
“He’s telling the truth, and ye should keep yer gob closed, Henry, or I’ll tell Sarah,” Catriona said as she walked up. Henry fell silent, but Peter and Dougal only laughed harder. Catriona stopped next to Cairren and smiled widely. “I wanted to thank ye one last time, ma lady, for saving me and ma bairn.”
“And thank ye for saving ma lass, ma lady,” Elspeth said as she joined the two women. “I regret what I said when ye first arrived. I’m truly sorry, Lady Cairren. Ye’ve proven to be better than any pale-skinned lady.”
An awkward pause followed. “I’m glad you changed your mind, Elspeth.” Cairren wasn’t sure what else to say after Elspeth’s last comment. It didn’t seem appropriate to agree.
“Lady Cairren, I would say the same,” Meg approached from behind Cairren. “I said wretched things to ye at the bonfire. I wasnae taking enough care of ma wean, and it was easier to blame ye than to admit I made the mistake. Ye have been a true blessing. I dinna ken how ye can always be so gracious. I couldnae.”
Cairren could only nod as she looked at the three women before her. She realized that while it wasn’t many, she’d made three friends without realizing it.
“Lady Cairren?” A timid voice called out, and Cairren looked beyond Meg’s shoulder to see Athne creeping toward them. Tears streamed down her face, and she looked terrified to come closer. Cairren passed an assessing gaze over Athne, taking in her body language and realizing the woman was afraid of rejection. Cairren nodded and forced a smile. She didn’t trust the woman after Athne had denounced her and corroborated Father Mitchell’s claims. “Lady Cairren, I need to tell ye and Padraig the truth aboot what I did. Now that Father Mitchell is gone, I amnae so scared.”
“You feared Father Mitchell?” Padraig asked.
“We all did,” Meg blurted. Cairren suspected as much, but she smiled at her outspoken friend. She liked that Meg wasn’t shy about speaking up, especially once she was on Cairren’s side.
“Ma lady,” Athne knotted her fingers so tightly that they were white. “I accepted yer help because I kenned ma wean needed it, but it was Father Mitchell and Lady Mary who told me to ask. Father Mitchell said he would come to ma door, and I was to accuse ye of witchery. He warned that ma soul and that of ma wean would be eternally damned and that the laird would banish ma family if I refused to rid our clan of—of—vermin,” Athne choked out the last word.
“My mother was there?” Padraig asked, appalled.
“Aye. She said she would see ma husband removed from the guards if I didna say exactly what she told me.” Athne sobbed, sniffing her nose. “Ye were so kind to me and ma wean, Lady Cairren. I’d seen how ye’d helped others, and I was sure ye could help ma wee one. But I couldnae risk ma family, ma lady.”
“Athne, I understand. I believe I would have done just as you did, if they put me in that position. I believe there’s naught I wouldn’t do to protect my children. They wronged us both, but I respect that you’re making amends,” Cairren responded.
“I want to, ma lady. I wish ye werenae leaving. Ye’re good for our clan. Did ye ken that the weans ye taught to sing in French have taught the others? They asked while ye were gone why ye werenae here to teach them more.” Athne looked back and waved over a girl of seven or eight. “This is ma lass, Sorcha.”
Sorcha bobbed a wobbly curtsey and held out a doll to Cairren. “I made this for ye, Lady Cairren. Do ye see how I used brown wool for her hair and skin, just like ye have? Isnae she pretty? I tried to make her look like ye.”
Cairren’s eyes watered as she squatted down to eye level with the girl. “This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received. You’re a kind lass, and I will cherish this always.” Cairren fell backwards with an oomph as the little girl knocked her over with her embrace. Cairren giggled as the girl squeezed her thin arms around her neck. She wrapped her arms around the girl in return. Padraig helped her to her feet, and she brushed off her skirts. She never imagined such a warm send-off, but she reminded herself that these people in front of her were but a tiny part of the clan.
“Lady Cairren,” a gravelly voice called out. “A moment, please.” Cairren recognized Adam and remembered that he was the one who saved Padraig from the cave when Duncan pushed him in years ago. Adam glanced at the others but returned his focus to Cairren, who wasn’t sure what the gruff warrior wanted.
“Good morn, Adam,” Cairren greeted him.
“Good morn, ma lady.” Adam cleared his throat, but his voice was still deep. “I dinna ken if Padraig told ye what happened at that cave when he was a lad. But I ken how hard it is to swim out from there. He and I nearly died that day. It was by the grace of God that it happened just before the tide truly changed. If I’d nae gotten there
when I did, I dinna believe Padraig would be alive. I dinna believe either of us would be alive if I’d jumped in any later. I canna believe ye did it with yer hands bound.”
Adam cleared his throat again. He appeared uncomfortable when he glanced at Cairren, but his face broke into a wide grin when he looked at Padraig. The sun-weathered skin crinkling beside his eyes. “I jumped in without a stitch on, kenning even a leine would weigh me down. I dinna ken how ye did it with any part of yer heavy gown on.” Adam grew serious and bowed to Cairren. “But it isnae just that feat that makes me admire ye more than anyone I ken. I could have, should have, spoken out against the laird and lady. It was ma duty as a member of the clan council to balance Laird Micheil’s power, and I didna. Ye’ve taught many of us a valuable lesson, ma lady. Honor, integrity, and strength have naught to do with anyone’s skin. I’m sorry I didna defend ye. I swore as a young mon to protect all members of the clan and the laird’s family. I never specified what color their skin had to be. I meant it to be everyone, and it should have been everyone. I humbly apologize, Lady Cairren.”
Padraig had never heard Adam speak so much at one time. He witnessed the tears that gathered in the aged warrior’s eyes, and it shocked him to see anything but the sternness he’d always known. Not for the first time in his life, he wished Adam had been his father. Adam was the man who taught him to hold a sword and to ride a horse. He’d been strict and relentless, but Padraig owed Adam a debt of gratitude for what he did to raise Padraig to be the warrior he was now.
Cairren came to stand before Adam and shyly wrapped her arms around him. “You remind me of my papa. Thank you,” she whispered. Adam froze for a moment before he returned the embrace, his massive arms and chest dwarfing Cairren. When Cairren pulled away, she noticed they’d gathered a crowd. The expressions many wore confused her, but none were hostile. Some looked bewildered, others curious. Many looked regretful, and a few appeared disinterested. But she didn’t fear anyone, and no one was glaring at her. She noted that the laird and lady were visibly absent, and she didn’t know if Duncan had returned.
“Who’s going to treat ma gout?” A reedy voice demanded. Cairren chuckled as Arnold cracked his walking stick against the offending ankles of anyone standing his way. “Ye were set to leave without even a fare-thee-well.”
“You shall have your proper goodbye, Arnold. It comes with these instructions: no rich foods, keep your feet up at night, and soak them in lukewarm water if they swell too much.” Cairren offered her advice with a smile. She imagined the man was eighty if he was a day, but he wasn’t in his dotage. His mind was sharp, and he was in fine health other than his gout. She didn’t doubt he had several more years of abusing ankles ahead of him.
“If Adam and his ugly mug got an embrace, I shall demand one too.” Cairren’s face relaxed into a soft smile as she reached out to him. He murmured against his ear. “I’ll work on them all. Ye’re too good for us to never come back.”
Cairren nodded, but she wouldn’t make false promises. She doubted she would ever return to Foulis. It had been a temporary stop on a much longer life journey. She turned toward Lachlan and his men, who stood idly watching. She’d forgotten about them and felt bad for keeping them waiting. She glanced up at Padraig, who smiled at her. The regret in his eyes felt like too little, too late to Cairren. He helped her mount before she, Padraig, and the extra men he’d gathered, along with the Sutherland men rode out. She didn’t look back.
Chapter Forty-One
Cairren swallowed her tears as she moved behind a tree, one of her spare chemises and her knife in hand. Her courses began on the third day of their trek to Stirling. Disappointment unlike anything she ever imagined overwhelmed her when she realized she wasn’t pregnant. The babe would have been her only reason to remain tied to Padraig. There was no reason for them to remain married, and no reason for Cairren to even consider returning to Foulis.
Cairren tore the chemise into strips and prayed Padraig didn’t inquire about what was taking so long. He’d taken her to the stream to bathe, even offering to help her with a grin, but she complained that the water reminded her of how cold she was the last time she was submerged. She turned her back and hurried to wash while keeping her chemise from falling into the water. Now that she’d torn through her second spare chemise, she didn’t see how much longer she could avoid discussing her courses with him, as she had laundry to do. She hadn’t shared her suspicions about being with child, and now she was relieved she hadn’t.
Cairren dried her tears and stepped around the tree to where Padraig stood with his back to her. She tapped his back as she walked by. They’d slept next to one another the previous three nights, but hadn’t made their bedrolls into one. Neither hinted at slipping away for a tryst, and neither attempted any affection. It was as though any connection they’d had evaporated. As she approached her bedroll, she noticed Lachlan watching her. When he cocked an eyebrow, she shook her head. He’d deduced that she thought she was expecting, and apparently he’d figured out that she wasn’t. He’d asked her discreetly during their first stop the day they left Foulis. Cairren supposed it was because he had two sisters that he was aware of such things. She’d caught Padraig looking at her midriff more than once since they left, but he said nothing. She suspected he’d noticed her courses hadn’t started since she arrived at his home. Like many women her age, they were irregular; they usually came three months apart. It was only because that length of time drew out that made her wonder. She realized she’d been hoping to find firmness in her belly, and so she had. Recognizing her error didn’t make it any less painful to accept that she wouldn’t have Padraig’s child.
She slid into her bedroll and pulled both her Kennedy and Munro plaids around her. Flurries fell throughout their fourth day on the road, and the temperature was still falling. She shivered as she tried to get comfortable. She went rigid when she felt Padraig move his bedding closer, but she couldn’t contain the sigh of relief when his heat encircled her.
“What’s wrong, Ren? Are you not feeling well?” Padraig feared the journey in the foul weather was proving too much for Cairren.
“I’m feeling fine, Padraig,” Cairren reassured.
“That doesn’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“There’s naught wrong, naught that needs fixing.”
“Then you’re hiding something from me,” Padraig accused.
Cairren looked over her shoulder, glaring at me. “You dare accuse me of hiding things? You’re a master of that craft.”
“You’re still not answering. Why are you evading my concern?”
Cairren rolled onto her back and looked at Padraig, who rested on his elbow. “Very well. I got my courses yesterday. I’m disappointed.” Cairren tried to roll back, but Padraig snagged her shoulder.
“You’re disappointed that you’re not with child. Did you think you were?” Padraig felt the heat rising in his neck as his anger blossomed. He understood Cairren intended to keep that news from him. She would have gone to Stirling, even Dunure, and not told him that they were having a child.
“I suspected I was. I wanted to be, but at the same time, I thought I’d found a sound reason for leaving Munro land: I convinced myself I was having a bairn.”
“That’s why Lachlan insisted on coming. He knew, and I didn’t.” Padraig made to roll away, but Cairren grasped the front of his leine.
“Oh, no, you don’t. You wanted to know, so now I’ll tell you. It terrified me I would end up like Wynda,” Cairren blurted.
“Wynda? Bluidy hell.” Padraig stared aghast at her. “I hadn’t thought of that. You wanted to leave because you feared our bairn was in danger.”
Cairren nodded as tears created rivulets down her cheeks. She wanted to curl into a ball and forget about the cramps she felt, and the emptiness in her heart. “I wouldn’t have kept our child from you, Padraig. I wasn’t even certain. I suspected it more than aught, but without waiting longer or seeing a midwife who could better examine me,
I went by missing my courses. It was enough to make me certain I couldn’t stay. And I didn’t tell Lachlan. He guessed.”
“What aboot now?” Padraig’s voice rasped. He shut his eyes when he saw the resignation in her face. “You still want to go to Stirling.”
“It’s for the best, Padraig.”
"I want to snap at you and ask for who, but I know the answer to that.”
“My intention isn’t to hurt you, but neither do I want to die young.”
There seemed little to say after that. It was reasonable, and Padraig knew it. He didn’t want Cairren to die young either, and her comparison to Wynda shook him to the core. He thought about Cairren nearly drowning, and he knew it would have been history repeating itself. He reached out to wrap his arm around Cairren, but left it suspended as he whispered, “Let me hold you tonight, Ren.”
Cairren said nothing, but inched closer until her head rested on Padraig’s shoulder and her arm draped across his chest. He held her close, kissed her forehead, and closed his eyes, but he didn’t fall asleep until well after he was sure she had. He would never walk away from Cairren again, but he suspected he was in for a fight.
Chapter Forty-Two
Cairren swept her eyes over every surface in the chamber she’d shared with Laurel Ross for three years. The familiarity was comforting after the heated conversation she had with Padraig. He’d argued against her returning to a ladies-in-waiting chamber; he’d wanted her to share a suite with him. She choked out that it would be harder than ever for her to part with him if they shared a chamber. Then she played her trump card: she needed time with her sister. They’d assigned Caitlyn to Laurel’s chamber when Cairren left. She looked at the bed and smiled. It would be barely large enough for the two of them, but it reminded her of when they were children.
An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5) Page 29
