“I can’t believe, just like that, we’re returning to Foulis, and you’re to be the laird. Is it divine intervention?” Cairren mused.
“I dinna ken. I suppose we’ll see soon enough if it’s that or the Devil’s curse.” Padraig encircled Cairren’s waist and dropped a kiss on her nose. “I wouldnae say this in front of the king, but I need ye to ken that we will leave the moment ye dinna feel safe or ye’re unhappy.”
“We can’t do that. Not once we’re the laird and lady. Duty doesn’t work that way.”
“It does when yer first duty is to yer wife. I ken sometimes duty will come before what we want. But I willna let it come before yer safety. I willna tolerate any disrespect to ye. I willna waiver on that either.” Padraig’s expression was so serious that Cairren knew arguing further would be pointless.
“I’d like to see Caity again before we leave,” Cairren shifted the subject.
“Shall we go now?”
“Nay. We have a couple of hours before she’ll be excused from the queen’s solar.”
“How shall we ever pass the time, mo chridhe?” Padraig was already unlacing Cairren’s gown as she reached to unfasten his brooch.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll show me.” Cairren waggled her eyebrows before her gaze dropped below Padraig’s waist.
“Cheeky lass. I love ye, Ren.” Padraig tipped Cairren’s chin up and brushed a soft kiss across her lips.
“And I love you, even if you’re a wee bossy at times.”
“Bossy, am I? Then I order ye onto this bed to enjoy yer husband’s loving ministrations.”
“Aye, ma laird,” Cairren giggled as she raced to the bed, and howled with laughter as Padraig snagged her around the waist, then tossed her onto the bed. They were not bored while waiting for Cairren’s sister.
Cairren laughed with her sister throughout the evening meal after convincing Padraig to sit with the Armstrongs. She watched Caitlyn and Alexander, and she wondered if she’d missed something over the years after she and Alex agreed they didn’t suit. She elbowed Padraig, cocked an eyebrow, and tilted her head. But he was clueless, furrowing his brow and shaking his head. Cairren leaned in and whispered her suspicions and watched understanding bring a smile to his face. Cairren danced with Alex and Lachlan in between dances with Padraig. She visited with Blair, and they once more promised to visit one another the next time Blair traveled home to Dunrobin.
Padraig arranged for their horses to be saddled and waiting for them as the first rays of sunlight peaked over the horizon. The Sutherlands joined them in the bailey to see them off. It was a tearful goodbye as Caitlyn and Blair wished their siblings godspeed. Cairren and Lachlan both turned back to wave goodbye before they passed under the castle’s portcullis.
The roads were clear of snow for the first three days of their journey, but as they entered the mountains, snow covered much of the trail along the steep ridges. Padraig’s heart was in his throat as he watched Cairren in front of him. He’d debated whether he should lead as they walked beside their horses, or if he should remain behind Cairren so that he never lost sight of her. She smiled back at him as she walked on the inside of the path, her body brushing against the rock face as her horse plodded along. Padraig was certain the icy wind that whipped through the ridges chilled Cairren to the bone; he promised himself that he would feed her until she could eat no more once they arrived at Foulis. He would see that she gained some meat on her bones, lest she freeze in the Highlands. Everyone breathed easier once they left the Cairngorm Mountains in their shadows.
The last two days of travel proved that Scotland could experience all four seasons in a matter of days. They left the last traces of snow behind them only to have buckets of rain dumped on them until the last two hours of the ride to Foulis. The clouds cleared, the sun shone, and it was warm enough for Cairren to push her arisaid off her head. She drew in a breath of the fresh Highland air, easing some of the anxiety that intensified as they drew nearer to their destination. She glanced at the men who surrounded her and found Padraig watching her. His smile warmed her more than the sun.
“Perhaps the Lord is letting us know there is a bright future ahead of us,” Cairren mused.
“Or mayhap He is shining a light on the truth. That ye’re an angel sent down to us.”
“I don’t know aboot all that, but I’m holding onto hope,” Cairren returned his smile.
“I’m clinging to it,” Padraig frowned.
“Don’t do that. You’ll give yourself wrinkles, and I like your face as it is,” Cairren teased.
“Aye, we all ken how much you like your husband’s face,” Lachlan interrupted. “You two can’t stop making cow eyes at one another. Makes the bannocks hard to keep down.” Lachlan’s teasing tone took the bite out of his comments, but Cairren’s cheeks went red. It had been too cold to think about slipping away to tryst, but she and Padraig found snuggling close together and sharing their plaids allowed for certain intimacies.
Cairren returned her eyes to road ahead of them as the tops of Foulis’s tower came into view. Padraig drew his mount closer to hers and reached out to cover her hand. She spread her fingers so his could entwine with hers. She shot him a thankful smile, and he nodded. They’d discovered during the journey they were starting to read one another’s thoughts. Their gazes and body language expressed what they couldn’t say out loud. It was a level of intimacy Cairren never thought to share with her husband. She’d seen her parents communicate in such ways throughout her life, but it seemed impossible to fathom when she arrived at Foulis the first time. Now, as the keep become more visible, she relied on Padraig’s silent support. He’d pledged over and over throughout the journey that if she didn’t receive a respectful welcome, they wouldn’t even dismount. He swore the first time anyone said or did anything to offend or threaten her, they would leave and never look back.
She’d never imagined Padraig would become a doting husband to her. She’d feared she would spend much of her life watching Padraig treat Myrna the way he treated Cairren now. But reflecting on Padraig and Myrna’s relationship, she’d seen an indulgent man giving in into the whims of a self-centered, entitled bitch. Cairren had a moment’s remorse for her choice of words, but she knew of no other that seemed adequate without being vulgar, even in her own mind. She doubted that Padraig and Myrna would have ever developed a relationship with depth, even if Duncan hadn’t been in the middle. Perhaps Myrna would have matured, or perhaps she would have remained selfish and hateful. Either way, Cairren was glad Myrna was no longer a part of their lives, for Padraig’s sake and for her own.
Their party rode through the gates with Matthew and Dougal leading the way. Padraig refused to ride anywhere but beside Cairren, just as he had throughout the entire journey. He cared not that people expected him to ride at the front of the group; he wouldn’t entertain Cairren being out of reach in case of an attack.
The Highland air felt fresh, lighter than it had during Cairren’s first time in Foulis. An invisible cloud had lifted over the Munros’ keep, and Cairren felt it. She noticed smiles where before there had been doubt and suspicion. Children whose parents had held them back at Cairren’s first arrival ran out to greet their party. Suddenly Cairren felt wary. The change was too significant to feel authentic.
Catriona, Meg, and Elspeth stood by the keep’s steps, waving their greeting, though Lady and Laird Munro were noticeably absent. At first Cairren breathed a sigh of relief; then she realized that their absence could not be solely due to their hatred of her. She was uncertain how the clan would receive news of Lady Munro’s banishment, and the impending reaction made her stomach churn. She turned her gaze away from the women and the keep, and saw Peter and Henry standing among the guards assembled behind the clan council. She darted a glance at Padraig, who was also looking in that direction. He hadn’t dismounted, and she took her cues from him.
“Padraig, Lady Cairren, we are most grateful for yer return,” Martin welcomed them. He’
d been the quietest of the council members who defended her. Cairren surmised that he was not a talkative man by nature, so it surprised her when he spoke first. She dipped her head in greeting.
“Ye say ye’re grateful, but I dinna ken that everyone shares yer sentiments,” Padraig called out. Many heads jerked back in surprise to hear his brogue. “Ma wife likes it,” was all the explanation he offered before continuing. “The council may lead the clan now, and I may become laird, but the clan will decide tonight whether ye accept Lady Cairren. Each member of the clan over the age of three-and-ten will swear their fealty to Lady Cairren. I will decide whether we stay by how many make that oath and whether I believe yer sincerity. We will leave in the morn if I am nae satisfied.”
Cairren kept her chin up and her back straight, giving no sign that Padraig’s order came as a surprise. Her eyes swept the crowd to see how they received Padraig’s mandate. The number of nodding heads disconcerted her after her time with the clan. She noticed one warrior sneering at her, and Padraig must have, too. He nudged his chin in the man’s direction, and Henry and Peter dragged him away. From her perch upon her horse, she watched as Peter held the man, and Henry plowed his fist into the man’s face and abdomen.
“I warned ye once before, I will treat any slight or disrespect to Lady Cairren as harm done to me.” Padraig voice was loud and firm. “Whether I become yer laird or nae, I will see ye punished. If I am laird, ye will go before the lash. If the harm is too great, ma wife and I leave.”
Cairren didn’t agree with the use of corporal punishment for this, but she understood Padraig’s need to assert himself, especially if he would soon lead the clan. And she didn’t doubt his retribution would be swift if how he’d beaten his brother indicated his protectiveness. She hoped she could convince him of a lesser punishment as she suspected, inevitably, someone would run afoul of her.
“Padraig?” A man Cairren didn’t recognize stepped forward. He appeared to be a farmer or villager. “Padraig, might ye banish the offender rather than ye leave? I dinna want to believe Lady Cairren will come to harm now that we arenae believing Lady Mary and Father Mitchell, and we dinna fear yer father or brother. I dinna like saying that it might. But if it were, that doesnae mean we all want Lady Cairren mistreated. We dinna all want to be punished.”
Padraig considered the man’s comments and nodded. “That would be something which ma wife and I would decide together. If I become laird, then Lady Cairren becomes the lady of our clan. She will receive the honor and courtesy that goes with that position.” Padraig turned to Cairren and held out his hand. When she placed it in his, he ran his thumb over the back of hers. “Before we step foot on Munro soil and before I escort ma wife into our home, I owe her an apology. It wasnae just ma family and our guest who are to blame for leading the clan to believe mistreating ma wife was acceptable. I shoulder that guilt, too. I didna treat Lady Cairren with the honor and care she deserved both as ma wife and as a person. Laird Kennedy told me ‘where ye lead, they follow.’ I didna appreciate his guidance, but I understand now. Lady Cairren, I am truly sorry for the pain I caused ye, for the blind eye I turned to others hurting ye, and for nae being the husband ye deserved. I love ye, Ren.”
Cairren swore to herself when she arrived the first time that she would never let the Munros see her cry; she would never show weakness. But now happy tears streamed down her cheeks, even as she turned a brilliant smile toward Padraig. She cupped his face with her hands, grateful their horses stood still, and spoke for all to hear. “I love you too, Padraig.” Then she offered him a kiss that left no one in doubt of the love and tenderness they shared.
Their homecoming had been a tumultuous day. They entered the keep to find Micheil intoxicated and mumbling to an invisible Duncan. As soon as he saw Cairren, he’d pointed his finger and screamed, “the Devil’s bitch,” before clutching his chest. He collapsed before them, but he still breathed. Cairren, much to her distaste but, was driven by conscience to examine him. The best she could diagnose was an apoplexy. She warned that he might recover, but it was just as likely that he wouldn’t. He hadn’t opened his eyes in hours, and the clan took it as a message from God that He wanted Padraig to serve as their new laird. The clan council disappeared into the laird’s solar, and both Padraig and Cairren expected to wait hours before hearing their decision. The men were in and out in less than five minutes. They’d elected Padraig as their laird and held a special election to officially declare Cairren as Lady Munro.
As their laird, Padraig delivered the news that King Robert wasn’t satisfied with his mother returning to Clan Rose. Instead, she was banished to Murkle Priory, far north in Sinclair territory. Padraig delivered the directive to his mother while Cairren went to their chamber abovestairs to bathe. Even a floor above the fray and with the door closed, Cairren could hear Mary’s vitriol as she raged against Cairren, using curses in Gaelic that Cairren didn’t understand. From the way Padraig’s hair stood on end once she finally saw him, Cairren knew either Mary’s tirade infuriated him, or he’d had to restrain his mother as they moved to the woman’s chamber. Cairren feared it was both when several clan members apologized on Mary’s behalf for what they all heard.
Before the meal began, Cairren slipped away from Padraig and spoke to her friends. It was odd, but comforting, to realize she had friends among the Munros. She asked the question she knew Padraig wanted answered as much as she did.
“What’s become of Myrna?” Cairren feared her rival would appear on their doorstep by morning.
“That’s quite a tale. She rode into the bailey easy as ye please,” Meg began. “She said she’d come to see Padraig. To resolve their disagreement. We kenned she wasnae telling the truth, but we thought she’d come to torment ye, ma lady. When she learned of Duncan’s death, she fell into the screaming ab-dabs. It was like naught ye’ve ever seen before, ma lady. Nay one could understand what she was going on aboot. Ranting like a banshee.”
“Aye, Lady Mary tried to get her under control. Do ye ken what Lady Mary did?” Catriona’s eyes widened, but she grinned. “Slapped her.”
“Aye. It stunned her enough to stop her squawking,” Meg laughed. “But then she started bellowing that it was Lady Mary’s fault that she’d never married Duncan and how it was Lady Mary’s fault that Duncan didna kill Lady Wynda sooner. Then, ma lady! She said what none of us can get over. She blurted out that she’d flushed bairns from her belly with the primrose tea just as Lady Mary told her, but now she has naught to remember Duncan by.”
“Aye, nae a bairn but bairns,” Elspeth hissed.
Cairren was already aware of what the women told her, but it stunned her to learn they knew too. She looked in Padraig’s direction as he laughed with the loyal men who were to remain her personal guard. “Did aught else happen?” Cairren wasn’t sure she should ask, but she couldn’t deny she was curious.
“Aye,” Meg continued the story. “Ma sister’s husband’s brother’s friend told us what he heard when he was on patrol near their border. He likes to blather aboot with anyone who will listen. He ran into a Ross patrol, and they told him everything. Come to find out, ma lady, her father nearly had his own apoplexy. Lady Myrna hid in her chamber for nigh on a sennight before she dared show her face again. Laird Ross was still livid! He signed a betrothal contract with some lesser MacGillivray chieftain. I dinna ken how, but he persuaded the Church to shake a leg and nae post the banns. Laird Ross said there wasnae any point since Duncan was dead, and she wasnae a maiden. She’s already married, ma lady.”
Cairren struggled to keep up with Meg’s recitation of what happened while she and Padraig were away. She didn’t think they’d been away long enough for so much to happen, but she realized it had been nearly a month. She thanked the women for sharing the latest news. What she learned tempted her to dash across the Great Hall to Padraig to crow about Myrna’s fall from grace. But she still wasn’t wholly convinced that Padraig was over his love for Myrna. She feared it would hurt him
to learn what became of her.
Padraig watched Cairren speaking with the women who’d become his wife’s champions. He noticed her smile grew the longer they spoke, and he wondered if they were telling her what the men had shared about Myrna. When they began the story, he thought he would feel some tug at his heart, something like nostalgia or maybe even sympathy. Instead, he was relieved and vindicated. He tried not to become smug as he listened to her future, to be married to a man old enough to be her grandfather but still in need of an heir. She would get to put her experience to use, since the man was known to be randy and demanding.
He watched Cairren wind her way through the crowd, receiving smiles and greetings. He realized he trusted his clan enough to not fear Cairren walking alone. He sensed Matthew, Peter, Dougal, and Henry were watching her, ready to defend her should they think someone threatened her. He encircled her in his arms and dropped a kiss on her puckered lips.
“Did the women tell ye aboot Myrna?” Padraig watched as Cairren considered her answer. She nodded her head but offered no comment. “Ye dinna have to worry that I’m hurt by the outcome. She got what she deserved. Or she will get what she deserves. Cairren, she has nay hold over me anymore, and there isnae room in ma heart and ma mind for any woman but ye.”
An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5) Page 33
