Chapter 4 #2
“Myrtle,” Cairren whispered. Padraig’s eyes jumped to Cairren’s, and he spotted a moment where she lowered her armor and sincerity shone through, but Myrna huffed, and the shield went back up.
Cairren pulled her hand away and turned to Myrna.
“Lady Myrna, your sister Laurel sends her regards. I have a missive from her in my chest. I will be certain to deliver it as soon as possible.”
“Laurel? You know my sister?”
“Aye. We’ve been roommates for nearly three years. Did she never mention it?” Cairren infused innocence into her voice when all she wanted to do was swipe the smug look from Myrna’s face. Her introduction to the laird’s family and their guest wasn’t going well.
“Nay. We—we—aren’t close,” Myrna explained.
Cairren looked as if to contemplate something before nodding.
“I suppose she spoke of Katherine or Elizabeth or Margaret when she told me she wrote to her sisters.” Cairren waved a dismissive hand as she turned toward the couple that had remained silent as the unpleasant exchange played out in the middle of the bailey.
“Lady Cairren, I am Duncan, tánaiste to my laird father. This is my wife, Lady Wynda.” Duncan didn’t glance at his wife, instead fastening his attention to Cairren’s bust. Cairren nodded but kept her attention on the rather mousy-looking woman.
Wynda returned the shallow curtsy and smiled timidly.
As she lowered her chin, her collar shifted, and Cairstine was certain she saw a bruise.
Her eyes darted to Duncan, but he was still shamelessly staring at her bosom.
Padraig’s gaze was riveted on Cairren, no longer noticing anyone around him.
His body refused to calm, and as she stepped forward when his mother ushered them toward the Great Hall, her gown pulled snug across her chest. Padraig’s lengthening rod bumped against the back of his sporran, and he was grateful that it hid his rampant cockstand.
He shifted his eyes to Myrna, who was glaring at him.
She wrapped her arm back around his so tightly that he wouldn’t be able to extricate it without causing a scene.
He frowned at his beloved before turning back to Cairren, who walked with elegance and poise, studiously ignoring him and Myrna.
His discomfort grew when Myrna settled into the seat she always occupied, but should have been offered to Cairren.
His mother abetted Myrna’s rudeness, and the two women showed no shame in insulting their guests or his bride-to-be.
“The wedding will be tomorrow,” Micheil boomed. “I’m certain you are eager to be on your way home, Innes.”
“I am certain I’m eager to see my daughter well settled before I go anywhere,” Innes spoke softly, but the resolve in his voice made Padraig once again want to squirm.
He didn’t want a showdown between the two lairds in front of his clan.
They were already abuzz about the two women who sat at the dais, their appearances an oddity in the Highlands.
"Tapadh leat.” Padraig heard Cairren say thank you to the servant who brought her food and a mug of ale.
While her pronunciation wasn’t perfect, it was more than passable.
Her effort impressed him, even if the serving woman sneered in return.
Cairren kept her smile in place as though the servant hadn’t been rude to her.
“Manipulative witch,” Myrna muttered. Padraig glanced down at Myrna, who pouted at him. “She’s just trying to suck up to everyone with her pathetic attempt at Gaelic. Does she think our people are too uncouth to know Scots? She’s the heathen here.”
Myrna’s vehemence unsettled Padraig, even if he understood her anger.
They’d been planning a Samhain wedding at the end of the following month when the news arrived that King Robert decreed that Padraig must marry Cairren.
The announcement devastated Myrna and Padraig, and she begged him to run away with her.
The idea tempted Padraig, but he couldn’t overlook the ingrained sense of duty to his clan.
He couldn’t make the Munros face the king’s wrath so he could get what he wanted.
He’d accepted the inevitable more easily than Myrna.
Mayhap I should have listened to Wynda and sent Myrna home.
I never imagined Cairren would know of Myrna, and I assumed she would turn a blind eye once she did.
But then, Myrna hasnae offered a warm welcome to a woman who now calls Foulis home when Myrna never will.
That’s surely what has Myrna upset. Perhaps a walk will sooth Myrna’s temper.
As though Myrna read his mind, she looked directly at Cairren and said, “Padraig, shall we leave for our walk?”
All three Kennedy faces turned toward them, and Padraig wanted to melt into the floor.
Discretion didn’t seem to be Myrna’s aim.
Cairren’s mocking smile made him feel uncomfortable, but Collette’s surprise and hurt made him feel ashamed.
He barely dared to look at Innes, who looked ready to murder him.
Cairren lifted her chin and smiled serenely at Padraig. “You should take all the walks together you can while you can. It shall be rather difficult once Myrna returns to Balnagown.”
“Myrna is Wynda’s companion,” Mary interrupted. “She lives here.”
Padraig choked on the ale he’d just gulped. His mother spoke a lie, and when Cairren’s smile didn’t falter, he was certain she knew it too.
“Congratulations on your new position, Myrna. How convenient that it should be offered so recently.”
“It wasn’t recent at all,” Myrna huffed.
“I’d call a sennight recent. Laurel mentioned you’d likely be here to greet me, but I would think your own sister would know if you’d taken up residence with another mon—I mean clan.
” Cairren spoke with a straight face, daring Myrna to argue, daring Myrna to correct her.
For once that morning, Myrna wisely backed down.
“I’d do it before the sun gets too high.
You wouldn’t want to freckle. Or worse, turn brown. ”
Innes cleared his throat. Cairren leaned back in her chair as she shifted her attention back to the people sitting below the dais, who strained to hear the conversation between Padraig’s long-time love interest and his betrothed.
Padraig was trapped, knowing the right thing to do would be to send Myrna home that very day, yet wanting to draw out every last minute they could spend together before he was bound to a woman he desired but didn’t want.
He glanced at Innes, whose eyes shot daggers at him as Myrna leaned against him to whisper.
He didn’t even hear what she said as Innes twirled his eating knife between his fingers, weaving it under and over.
“There will be no whiling away the day walking hand in hand,” Micheil decreed. “The men will adjourn to my solar to discuss the dowry’s delivery and the bride price’s exchange.”
Padraig felt his cheeks flush as his father put into words his very plans.
Words his betrothed was forced to hear. He’d never been in a more uncomfortable position than he was now, but he suspected it would only go downhill as the wedding drew nearer.
As Myrna sulked, the pout he’d once thought so provocative appeared mulish and petulant while Cairren continued to smile graciously despite the servants’ ongoing rudeness and his family’s hostile greeting.
She’d given as good as she’d gotten, but she did so with a smile.
It softened her edges while Myrna appeared ungracious.
A moment of doubt flickered through his mind as he considered how Myrna might treat other guests she didn’t favor if they were to marry.
The woman he often claimed to be inordinately proud of embarrassed him.
He couldn’t make it to his father’s solar quickly enough, but he dreaded being in an enclosed space with Innes, who looked ready to geld him.