Chapter 6
The bluidy bastard can’t keep his hands off her.
He must have bolted to find her the moment he left his father’s solar.
Then easy as you please, they’re standing together where anyone can see them.
As though his entire clan doesn’t ken his betrothed arrived today, he’s standing there clinging to her.
I understand, plain and simple. I’m not simple.
Cairren kept her smile in place as she sat beside Padraig at the evening meal.
With the announcement of the wedding the next day, it forced Mary to seat Cairren beside her son, but the older woman kept casting withering glares at Cairren and heaving pitying sighs when she looked at Padraig.
Despite sharing a trencher, the betrothed couple appeared to barely notice one another.
Cairren spoke softly to Collette through most of the meal, even speaking once or twice with Wynda, but she never looked at Padraig.
He wanted to offer her an apology, but he wasn’t certain what he would apologize for.
Would it be the incredibly rude comments his mother and —he didn’t even know how to think of Myrna—made when the Kennedys arrived?
Would it be the way Myrna clung to him whenever she could?
Would it be the disgusting things Cairren hadn’t even heard Myrna and Micheil say?
Or would it be his cowardice for not being able to talk to her even though they sat shoulder-to-shoulder?
He swallowed and made his first foray into a peace offering.
“Would you care for more duck, my lady?” Padraig whispered to Cairren. He watched her eyes drop to their trencher, where a pile of duck still sat on her side.
“Thank you, no.” Cairren’s tone was polite but cold.
“Perhaps more wine?” Padraig tried again. He watched Cairren bite her lip as if she was steeling herself for whatever would come next.
“I am well. I have more than enough to eat and drink, but I thank you all the same.” Cairren’s accent, a blend of Scots and French, intrigued Padraig. He caught himself wondering what he could mention that would draw her into conversation just so he could listen.
“I imagine the weather made the journey rather arduous.”
“It did on the days it rained. On the days it didn’t, it was pleasant.”
Padraig wracked his brain for another topic, since something as banal as the weather didn’t elicit much of an answer. Perhaps I should ask her a question. A question other than if she wants more food. I havenae a clue what a safe topic is at this point.
“Would you tell me aboot your time at court?” Padraig assumed this would be something she could speak at length about since she lived there for three years. But he watched Cairren’s expression, and he could tell her instinct was to say no.
“It was interesting,” Cairren paused, unsure of what to say next.
“I hadn’t met the king or queen before I arrived, and I knew no one there.
I recognized the names of a few ladies-in-waiting.
Most are Lowlanders, so some were neighbors, but Dunure is rather isolated, being on the coast. I had traveled little before joining the court.
Now I have seen much of Scotland since I’ve accompanied the queen on summer progress. ”
“It is certainly different from being on one’s clan territory.
What did you find most different at court from being at home?
” Padraig began to feel more confident since he elicited more than one sentence at a time from Cairren, but he caught his breath as she turned to stare at him.
The hurt in her eyes was so penetrating that he didn’t know where to look.
“How unwelcome I was,” Cairren whispered.
“Lass—” Padraig was at a loss for words. Rather than smooth things over, he’d ripped open an unhealed wound. “I—That was thoughtless. I’m sorry.” His words sounded lame to his own ears, but he didn’t know what else to say.
“There is naught to be done aboot it, and you couldn’t have known.
Think no more on it,” Cairren’s voice was strong, but Padraig noticed her chin tremble as she forced out the words.
He glanced at his family, and shame washed over him as he considered how their behavior must have mirrored what Cairren had already endured once.
“Would you take a walk with me after the meal?” Padraig prayed he’d have a nimbler wit once they were not surrounded by so many people.
“No. I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Why not? We’re betrothed and marrying tomorrow.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t understand.”
Cairren turned an exasperated face to him, and he could tell she clenched her jaw. “I would prefer not to spell it out to you.”
“I’m afraid you must because I’m not following.”
“No one wants me here. They all wish you were marrying Myrna tomorrow rather than—what was it—someone so brown. If they discover you’ve taken me for a walk, they will despise me even more for what they’ll assume is me seducing you, and they will resent you for turning away from Myrna. It’s best that we don’t.”
“We should talk, Cairren,” Padraig pressed. It was the first time he’d spoken her name aloud without the honorific, and he liked how it felt rolling off his tongue.
“No, we shouldn’t. At least not tonight. We have a lifetime ahead of us to talk.”
“Are you always so disagreeable?” Padraig muttered.
“Are you always so na?ve?” Cairren returned.
Padraig opened his mouth to respond, but Cairren lifted her palm off the table, signaling him to wait.
“I’m not trying to be disagreeable, Padraig.
You’re the only person who’s been…” Cairren didn’t know how to describe Padraig’s welcome.
It hadn’t been warm, but neither had it been hostile.
“It would be unwise of me to create any more animosity. Eventually, it will spill over to you.”
“You’re protecting me?” Padraig was aghast.
“Call it experience hard learned. You would do well not to be caught in the storm's eye. I’m here to serve a purpose. Neither of us needs to pretend it’s aught else.
I brought a dowry, and I will bear your children.
” Cairren swept her eyes over the diners seated at long tables beneath the dais.
She glanced down at her hands and flinched.
“Perhaps we shall settle on I brought a dowry.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Cairren’s gray eyes met Padraig’s, and once more he recognized hurt in her gaze.
But this seemed soul deep. He watched her swallow several times before she felt composed enough to speak.
“Perhaps it would be best if I didn’t bear you any children.
In a few years, you can claim I’m infertile and set me aside.
Perhaps you’ll be able to have the marriage you want.
” Cairren glanced at Myrna before returning her gaze to Padraig. “They might be brown like me.”
Padraig sat back, the wind let out of his sails.
He hadn’t considered what their children might look like, not even when his father spoke of her polluting their bloodline.
His eyes swept over Cairren’s clear complexion, noticing a smattering of freckles on her nose.
Her brows were finely etched as if each hair had been placed just so.
Her lips were plump and glistened from when she licked them before speaking.
While he understood the ramifications of having a wife who didn’t resemble anyone in his clan, he couldn’t deny that she was beautiful and would likely one day have beautiful children.
He wondered if all of her would be the same bronze hue or if she were paler under her clothes.
He realized that he was more curious about the contrast and being able to see her undressed than hoping that she would have lighter skin.
The longer he gazed at her, the less he cared about her skin color.
But he doubted anyone else in his clan would have the same reaction.
He’d seen how many of the men looked at her, and it set him on edge.
He could only describe it as leering, but he’d watched Cairren pretend not to notice, and it saddened him to realize that she was accustomed to such lecherous behavior.
The men appreciated her beauty and the desire it stirred, but Padraig knew none of them respected her.
Once more he felt trapped in the middle.
He realized he’d sat quiet too long when Cairren dipped her chin and returned her focus to the uneaten food on her side of the trencher.
“We will only say you’re infertile if it proves to be true,” Padraig said.
“You can’t mean you’re willing to risk…” Cairren couldn’t say it again. It tore at her to acknowledge that if she had children, no one would see it as a blessing other than her.
“Did your father see having children with your mother as a risk?” Padraig prodded.
“He loves her,” Cairren whispered. She couldn’t continue this conversation. The musicians tuning their instruments as the servants pushed the last tables to the sides increased her need to escape. “Excuse me.”
Cairren pushed back her chair, grateful she sat on the end and could step off the dais without drawing attention.
She attempted to make her way to the stairs, but too many people were milling around for her to cut a direct path.
As she wound through the crowd of Munros, she caught the snide comments and disdainful glares.
She kept her chin up and back straight as she tried to navigate the least congested parts of the Great Hall.
“Hope his cock doesn’t shrivel up after touching that quim,” Cairren heard a man’s voice.