Chapter 2
Cairren eased into her seat at the ladies’ table as the evening meal began.
She’d remained with her parents throughout the afternoon, hearing stories and the latest news from their clan.
Her mood lightened as she listened to her mother regaling tales of Caitlyn’s continued attempts make perfume.
Collette Aubert hailed from the Grasse region, the area of France best known for its perfumes and soaps.
Her father had been an Arab trader shipwrecked along the southern French coast when his Moroccan ship bound for Italy was blown off course during a storm.
Collette’s mother, Marie-Claude, was already a widow and was willing to take the foreigner in while he recovered.
As Collette had recounted countless times, her parents’ love story was much like Innes and Collette’s—love at first sight.
Ebrahim Boukhriss traded myrrh and frankincense from the Lovat region to cities along the Mediterranean, so settling in Grasse was ideal.
Collette described him as a quiet man who would have barely come to Innes’s shoulders.
He was shrewd and bookish, which made it easy to expand Marie-Claude’s soap and perfume trade.
While Cairren had inherited her maternal grandfather’s olive skin, almond-shaped eyes, and deep chestnut hair, she’d inherited her paternal grandmother’s translucent grey eyes.
There was a tinge of green that made them appear silver at times.
She and her sister shared this feature, and it was the indisputable proof that Innes was their father.
Innes met Collette when the French hired him as a mercenary.
When he sailed away from Kennedy territory, he was a second son, and there seemed little chance that he would inherit the lairdship.
The money he earned while in France lined the Kennedys’ coffers and helped them finance the ongoing skirmishes against the English.
It was while Innes was away that an English neighbor killed his older brother, during a standoff over land that had changed hands many times.
It thrust him into the role of the laird’s heir and forced Innes to return, but he refused to do so without his French bride.
He’d married Collette without telling his family, having planned to remain in France permanently.
When Innes and Collette had no choice but to go to Scotland, Collette adopted her mother’s surname, Aubert, hoping to make her transition easier, but a single glance at Collette spoke of her Arab lineage.
There were few who could contest that Cairren was a stunning woman, but she was not the epitome of Scottish beauty.
While her features were striking and created an exotic appearance compared to the fair-haired and fair-skinned Scots, her appearance was an albatross around her neck.
As a young woman taught to read, she discovered ancient practices rumored to lighten skin tones for women whispered to have foreign heritage.
She’d even gone so far as to try various tonics and herbs to lighten her skin when she learned she was to serve among the queen’s retinue, but nothing she used made a difference.
She’d often worn peasant straw hats at home to protect her face and neck from the sun, but somehow her skin tone always deepened in summer.
The veils many women wore at court did nothing to deflect the sunshine when she rode or strolled in the garden.
She’d spent her first summer at court inside as much as possible, but the queen enjoyed a long morning constitutional through her gardens and insisted her ladies-in-waiting join her.
Now she stayed in the shade whenever she could, claiming too much sun gave her headaches and strained her eyes.
“Why did your parents come?” Laurel Ross asked as a servant placed a trencher before Cairren.
“I will be leaving court to marry. My father informed me of my betrothal,” Cairren shrugged, hoping to play off her sense of impending doom that returned with the mention of her upcoming nuptials.
“Do you know who it is?” Blair Sutherland asked.
“Aye. Padraig Munro.” Cairren’s gaze shifted to Laurel as her friend began to cough. The look of shock made the hair on Cairren’s arms stand up.
“Just went down the wrong way,” Laurel gasped as she lifted her mug of ale to her mouth.
“The Munros aren’t far from Sutherland!” Blair bubbled. “Perhaps I could visit the next time I travel home.”
“I would like that very much,” Cairren smiled, but she was still watching Laurel, who seemed to have recovered but had grown withdrawn.
Cairren wasn’t about to inquire while the worst gossips in the kingdom surrounded her, but she intended to ask Laurel about her reaction when they could speak in private. Fortunately, they were roommates.
“When do you leave?” Arabella Johnstone asked softly.
Her best friend, Blair’s sister Maude, left court just before Cairren’s friend Allyson.
Maude married Kieran MacLeod after a whirlwind romance that set every tongue on fire at court.
Cairren grew closer to Blair and Arabella after Maude’s departure, but they hadn’t become genuine friends until Allyson left to marry Ewan.
“In two days,” Cairren plastered a smile on her face that hid her regret. She’d worked hard to make the few friends she had, and now she would have to start over again. “I’ll be wed within the fortnight.”
“So soon?” Laurel blurted.
Cairren narrowed her eyes at her roommate, but she was resolved to keep her questions until later.
“Aye. It’ll take a sennight to travel, and then my father says I’ll be married within a sennight of our arrival.
My parents will have another fortnight’s journey ahead of them to return to Dunure.
With the weather as it is, I suspect we’ll have an early winter.
I wouldn’t want them trapped somewhere along their route.
They’ll be gone more than a moon as it is.
My father doesn’t care to be away from home that long with how things stand.
There have been English ships spotted off our coast several times since Beltane.
” As Cairren spoke about the upcoming journey, she groaned internally as she pictured the days spent on horseback and camping outside.
There was no sign that the weather would improve, and as they moved further into the Highlands, the likelihood of experiencing all four seasons in a day increased.
If she and her parents were departing from home, she might have convinced her father to sail along the western coast and come inland near Assynt.
Then it would only have been a couple days' ride to Foulis.
“Which gown will you wear?” Blair prodded. Cairren recognized Blair’s attempt to cheer her up, but any thoughts of the wedding soured her mood as much as it did her stomach.
“I suppose my mother brought the gown I made before I left for court. It’s pale blue with embroidery at the neckline, the waist, and the hem.
” What Cairren didn’t mention was the higher than fashionable neckline and the billowing sleeves that covered as much skin as possible, no matter how she moved.
“That sounds lovely,” Laurel offered, but Cairren caught the uncertainty in her voice.
The women eventually turned to other topics of conversation before the dancing began.
Cairren was never short of dance partners, but their intent was rarely innocent.
When she was newly arrived at court, it had shocked her to hear the propositions courtiers made to women, but the ones she received were often among the lewdest she heard.
Men who had no intention of an honorable outcome suggested acts that Cairren initially believed were depraved.
As she grew more accustomed to her new way of life, she learned that the acts were normal parts of bed play, but they were inappropriate to suggest to a maiden.
The men assumed that she was desperate for a guardian to offer his protection and often reminded her that she wouldn’t do better than to become a man’s mistress.
She’d hidden in her chamber more than once during her first year, and she’d learned to never walk alone in the passageways and to steer her way into the crowd if an unsavory courtier or guest approached for a dance, but it was inevitable she could not avoid some of the brasher ones.
She never considered relenting. She had always trusted her father would find her a match, and if not, she would happily retire to Dunure when her tenure as a lady-in-waiting ended.
“Lady Cairren, it’s always a pleasure to partner with you,” an Armstrong delegate whose name she couldn’t recall spoke from behind her shoulder. Cairren turned to see the attractive man sweep his gaze over her, lingering overly long just below her waist and at her bust.
“I thank you for the compliment. Please excuse me. I must join my parents,” Cairren sidestepped the callow man’s implied request.
“I am certain they won’t begrudge you a turn around the floor with a neighbor.”
They may not, but I will. The man didn’t give Cairren an opportunity to refuse before he grasped her hand in a hold that was far too tight and virtually dragged her into the mass of dancers.
The set was one where each dance was with the same partner.
Unlike a reel, she would be stuck with the Armstrong warrior who held her too close.
“You’re even lovelier than the last time we danced,” he whispered beside her ear. The shiver that raced along Cairren’s spine was from fear. She understood where the conversation would go before long. “You are enticing and could lead a mon to sin.”
“Then perhaps you should make your way to the kirk, and I can make my way to my parents,” Cairren’s tone was like syrup, but the put down was clear.