Chapter 4
Foulis Castle came into view on the seventh morning of their journey.
They’d been delayed when a horse threw a shoe, then went lame.
They’d had to make a detour to a village where the horse could rest and a blacksmith refitted the horseshoe.
It was a blessing in disguise as Cairren enjoyed a night in a bed, even if the frame creaked when she so much as breathed.
It was still warmer and softer than the ground.
Cairren gathered her reins in one hand and shielded her eyes as she took in the imposing keep that was to become her new home.
The Munro banner flapped in the wind, signaling the laird was in residence.
Cairren was certain that at least one patrol had seen them as they crossed into Munro territory, and likely a scout raced ahead to inform the laird of their imminent arrival.
While Cairren couldn’t make out any figures on the battlements, she knew that the superior height meant the guardsmen had already spotted their entourage.
She rode in the center beside her mother with her father in the lead.
Kennedy guardsmen surrounded the women, and with her short stature, Cairren suspected no one would notice her until she dismounted.
She intended to use that to her advantage as she cast surreptitious glances around the bailey as they passed beneath the portcullis.
The walls were well maintained, sentries were posted along the battlements, and the people looked healthy and well fed.
Just how badly could they need my dowry?
Cairren turned her attention toward the steps as a couple about her parents’ age led the way down the keep’s steps.
Two more couples followed. Cairren’s eyes riveted on the blond, willowy woman, and she knew in an instant that Myrna was walking beside Padraig, her betrothed, to come and greet her.
Her stomach sank, and she struggled to keep a scowl from clouding her expression.
She adopted the look of serenity and grace that she’d cultivated during her earliest days at court.
Allyson had helped her, and it hadn’t taken Cairren long to appreciate its value.
She suspected she would wear it every day for the rest of her life.
“Laird and Lady Kennedy, it is a pleasure to welcome you and your daughter to Foulis Castle and Clan Munro,” the giant who approached them boomed.
The man was not much taller than Innes, but his chest seemed twice as wide.
Innes had always been one of the largest and brawest men Cairren knew, but Laird Micheil Munro fit every whispered rumor she’d ever heard about Highlanders.
Lady Mary Munro sniffed, her nose curling as though a foul odor wafted toward her as she passed an assessing eye over Cairren and Collette.
It was clear the Kennedy women did not pass muster, at least not by Lady Munro’s standards.
The man who stood directly behind Laird Munro smirked as his eyes raked Cairren.
She recognized the action, and she prayed the man wasn’t Padraig.
There was something about him that made Cairren uneasy.
When the man scowled at the sallow-looking woman at his side, Cairren realized that the couple must have been the older son and his wife.
Cairren finally turned her attention to the man who stood silently with Myrna’s arm now wrapped around his.
Cairren’s heart lurched as the most handsome man she’d even seen stood before her.
He still hadn’t spotted her, even if Myrna had.
His black hair was cut shorter than most Highlanders, sitting above his collar.
He had piercing brown eyes that appeared nearly black from a distance.
Cairren wondered briefly if they were truly windows into his soul.
She hoped not. His jaw was finely chiseled, but his nose had a slight bump where she supposed someone once broke it.
It appeared to be the only flaw in his otherwise perfect visage.
He was as large as his father, which made him a few inches taller than his older brother.
It was clear both sons were trained warriors, but where there was an air of arrogance about the older son, Padraig appeared confident.
“Tha iad le chèile cho donn,” Myrna murmured. Cairren understood enough Gaelic to know the woman had said “they’re both so brown.” It wasn’t an observation but an accusation.
"Et tu es si grossier,” Cairren muttered. And you’re so rude. At her quiet comment, Collette shot her a look of warning. While they might not expect Lowlanders to speak Gaelic, which Collette didn’t, there was always the likelihood that a noble family spoke French.
As Cairren looked away from her mother, her eyes locked with Padraig’s, and she recognized the surprise when he finally caught sight of her.
She cocked an eyebrow in challenge before her eyes darted to Myrna.
Padraig didn’t hurry, but he removed Myrna’s arm from his.
When Cairren’s eyebrow nearly reached her hairline, Padraig stepped forward.
Padraig Munro feared he would swoon for the first time in his life.
He hadn’t expected the stunning beauty who stood among giants.
Nor had he expected her pluck to cast such a withering gaze within moments of their eyes meeting.
He’d been curious as the Kennedys rode into the bailey, so he hadn’t noticed when Myrna wrapped her arm around his.
It was something they had done so many times over the years that it felt natural.
When Cairren’s expression hardened and both her chin and eyebrow lifted, Padraig noticed Myrna once again.
And how inappropriate their behavior was.
He’d been struck dumb was his only explanation.
He’d always believed Myrna was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen with sky-blue eyes, long flaxen hair, and a lithesome figure, but Cairren took his breath away.
He stared into the astute silver-gray eyes that seemed to see far too much in too short a time.
While she’d pulled her hair into a braid, the plait sat over her shoulder, grazing her waist. The rich brunette color shone red where the sun caught it.
Her diminutive body was lush and softer than Myrna’s, and he found his fingers itched to trail over her breasts and hips.
He’d never felt such a spark of lust for any woman.
He and Myrna had an understanding, or at least there had been one until he learned of his betrothal, that until they wed, Padraig was free to find his pleasure with other women, but he swore he would be faithful once they married.
He’d heard Myrna’s comment, but it was several long moments before it registered with him, and Padraig gathered his wits enough to notice Cairren’s skin tone.
His heart dropped, and the lust fizzled.
He wanted to squirm, embarrassment that his new bride was so dark-skinned already setting in.
She would be a constant source of mockery among his clan and their neighbors.
He swallowed the bile that rose in the back of his throat as he wondered how his father could have agreed to the match.
They weren’t in that desperate need, were they?
As though his mother divined his thoughts, she glanced at Myrna and frowned.
"Coigrich ghràineil. Chan eil feum againn air an òr cho mòr. Is e masladh a tha seo,” Disgusting foreigners. We don’t need their gold that much. This is an insult, Lady Mary Munro griped as she returned her glower to Cairren, who reared back as her eyes widened.
Cairren stepped forward and offered the angry woman a curtsy befitting a queen.
When she rose, she locked her eyes on her soon-to-be mother-by-marriage and spoke in a clear voice.
"Maitheanas dhomh, chan eil mo Ghàidhlig glè mhath fhathast. Ach tha e na thoileachas coinneachadh riut. Màthair.” Forgive me, my Gaelic isn’t very good yet.
But it’s a pleasure to meet you. Mother.
It was Mary’s turn to gasp. Cairren wasn’t sure if it was the use of Gaelic or the fact that she called the woman Mother–perhaps it was both–but she derived smug satisfaction from startling the woman.
With an angelic smile she didn’t mean, Cairren turned back toward Padraig and offered him a curtsy, one that conveniently accentuated the low neckline of her gown.
She and Collette had chosen it for that reason, and Cairren had donned it just before Foulis Castle came into sight.
While it was a risk showing so much of her olive-toned skin, they banked on her betrothed noticing her bosom.
She wore a fresh gown, had braided her hair again, and dabbed on perfume, so she was as well presented as she could be after a week on the road.
When Myrna hissed, Cairren tilted her head and offered her a soft smile before looking back at Padraig.
Padraig didn’t know where to look. His mother and beloved were practically hissing and snarling while Cairren the kitten proved that she had claws.
He never imagined she would understand Gaelic.
It made him wonder how she’d learned. While his mind railed against taking a wife who couldn’t have been more different from the women he was used to, his body had a different idea entirely and was already eagerly considering their wedding night.
He remembered to bow and extend his hand.
When Cairren looked at it as if to tell whether it was dirty, he almost pulled it back, but she brought her fingertips to just above his.
When he bent over it, a floral perfume wafted toward him, a scent he didn’t recognize.