Chapter 13
Padraig woke the morning after his wedding feeling like he was hung over.
His head pounded, his body ached, and his stomach churned.
He hadn’t slept more than an hour at a stretch; the disaster replaying over and over in his mind.
The hateful things his family said collided with Cairren’s story of how people treated her when she arrived at court, making his ears ring.
Every time he pictured Cairren as they coupled, the image was overrun by one of her sobbing and admitting her fear.
Then there was Myrna in the passageway. He wanted to find her, to make sure that she would recover from her own ordeal, but he dreaded leaving his chamber and facing reality.
Nay. I dread facing Cairren. I dread seeing the hurt and betrayal from what she saw and heard between Myrna and me.
I left ma bed where I’d just had the most exquisite experience with a woman I’ve ever had, and I went to another woman.
I might have done naught with Myrna, but does that really matter?
If I heard this tale, and it were aboot another mon, I’d want to thrash him.
Instead, easy as ye please, I left Cairren behind.
Yet, I still dinna feel as bad as I ken I should.
It’s Myrna I want to comfort. Padraig sat up and rubbed his forehead. What the bluidy hell is wrong with me?
He made his way belowstairs, finding his family and Myrna seated at the dais, but the Kennedys were nowhere in sight.
He looked around the Great Hall but didn’t see any of their guardsmen either.
His heart tightened as he feared they’d left, but when he looked at his family again, he knew that wasn’t the case.
They didn’t look smug enough for the Kennedys to have left.
His eye caught the sheet hanging over the railing as it swung with the draught.
There was no missing the bright red streak that marred the white sheet.
Padraig swallowed as once more memories from the night before danced before his eyes.
His bollocks ached as he remembered how it felt to be hilt-deep inside Cairren, and he wouldn’t lie to himself and say he didn’t want to do it again, didn’t want to do it over and over.
Myrna wrapped her arm around his and beamed. “I’m sorry aboot last night, Padraig. I was awful, and I’m so ashamed.” Padraig listened to her tone, which sounded contrite, but it didn’t match the sunny expression on her face.
“I’m sorry too. I wish you hadn’t had to go through that.
I love you.” He cupped Myrna’s cheek and gazed into her blue eyes.
He felt himself slipping into their depths, the familiarity calling to him.
His thumb swept over her cheekbone until a clearing of a throat brought him back to reality.
He was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, sharing an intimate moment with a woman other than his wife, the wife he’d married less than a day ago.
He looked up to see Innes, Collette, and Cairren watching him.
Cairren stumbled as she entered the Great Hall and caught sight of Myrna and Padraig standing together.
They weren’t just merely talking. They looked like lovers exchanging a private moment.
Except it wasn’t private at all with hundreds of eyes watching them.
She despised him. She loathed him. But she despised and loathed herself more for letting her guard down.
She never should have trusted him, and more fool was she for doing so when she knew better.
Her time alone with Padraig had been the most incredible experience of her life, but what the Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away.
She figured she’d spent two pleasant hours with Padraig while they explored one another, but that was a mere drop in the bucket compared to the time spent wanting to be anywhere but Foulis.
She followed her parents to the dais, not sparing Padraig a glance.
Padraig wanted to groan. He’d believed himself to be a thoughtful and sensible man, but he couldn’t seem to stop digging himself deeper and deeper into his own grave.
He’d never thought himself fickle either, having wanted Myrna as his wife for so long.
But he couldn’t deny how much he wanted Cairren.
But the most disgraceful part is that I want to keep ma wife as though she were ma mistress.
Nay acknowledgment of one another in the daylight while bedding her every night.
Though from the look on her face, I may never touch her again.
Padraig watched as Cairren walked past him and Myrna, their arms still wrapped around each other for all of Clan Munro and the Kennedys to see.
It didn’t even dawn on Padraig that he should extricate himself until they’d already walked past and Innes growled.
Padraig had grown too distracted by how beautiful Cairren looked in a burgundy gown with her hair pulled up as was appropriate for a married woman.
Her cheeks were flushed, and the wisps of hair that had come loose appeared windblown.
He noticed Collette looked much the same way, and Innes was running his hand over his hair to flatten it.
They’d already been for a morning ride. Padraig wanted to groan as he thought about how the only morning ride he’d been planning that day had been Cairren.
“Let’s eat, Padraig. I’m famished.” Myrna’s upbeat voice punctured his train of thought.
He smiled at her and led her to the dais.
Cairren sat at the far end of the table between her parents, nowhere near where she’d sat with Padraig during the feast. Mary scowled when she realized her son and Myrna couldn’t sit together because there were no chairs left open next to each other.
Padraig watched his mother rake a venomous glance over his wife and parents-by-marriage, as if they’d somehow created the situation.
Padraig had little choice but to take a seat between Wynda and a senior guardsman while Myrna sat to Mary’s left.
Wynda glanced at Duncan to be sure he was talking to Micheil before she leaned toward Padraig.
It surprised him that his sister-by-marriage attempted to make conversation.
She made it appear as though she were asking him to pass the jug of cream, but she whispered, “My heart has never hurt so much for someone before. I thought you were better than Duncan.”
Wynda’s comment stunned Padraig as he looked past her to where Duncan guffawed at something Micheil said.
He’d never enjoyed being compared to his older brother, and this was the worst one yet.
He looked into Wynda’s eyes and saw pity, but he sensed it wasn’t pity for him and his lost opportunity to marry the woman he loved.
It was pity that he was a lesser man than she’d believed.
As she leaned forward to reach for the honey, Wynda whispered again.
“There is more than meets the eye to both of them, but you will only like what you learn aboot one of them. It won’t be the one you think you want.”
Padraig opened his mouth to speak, but Wynda’s eyes flared with fear before she turned toward Duncan. He watched his brother cast a disgusted look at Wynda.
“What’re you babbling on aboot now? You haven’t the sense God gave a gnat. Haven’t I warned you aboot prattling?”
“Aye, Duncan. I was just—”
“Did I ask what you were doing?” Duncan interrupted.
“She was asking for the cream and honey,” Padraig intervened.
“Did I ask you what she was doing? Stay out of the farce that is my marriage and I’ll stay out of yours,” Duncan retorted.
The sound of something being knocked over drew his attention away from Duncan and Wynda. He looked over to see Cairren blotting the front of her gown.
“I’m so sorry,” Cairren mumbled. “I’m not usually so clumsy.
Uh, Lady Wynda, would you show me where I might take this to be laundered?
” Cairren was already moving around the table, then standing between Duncan and Wynda before anyone could remind Cairren that her maid was responsible for that.
She held out her hand to Wynda, who looked at it before glancing at Cairren’s encouraging smile.
None of his family could see the exchange because Cairren’s back blocked their view.
“Of course, Lady Cairren. Please come with me.” Wynda rose and led Cairren to the end of the dais that wouldn’t force them to walk past the Munros. Collette followed them as Innes rose. The man glared at Padraig before leaning forward to whisper none too quietly.
“You and me. The lists. Now.” Innes didn’t wait to see if Padraig accepted the challenge, instead turning and jumping down from the dais.
He walked through the Great Hall with a sense of command that only a battle-hardened laird could.
Padraig wanted to groan. Sparring with Innes was the last thing his body needed.
“But I thought you were spending the day with me.” Myrna’s voice seemed to fill every crevice of the Great Hall as members of the clan waited to see who Padraig chose. Myrna’s innocent smile reassured him that she hadn’t just tried to manipulate him.
“I’m afraid I can’t. I need to train, and I can’t refuse him. I will join you after the nooning.” Padraig kept his voice low, but the grins from the people seated closest to the dais told him they’d heard him plan a rendezvous with Myrna.
“Does he beat you?” Cairren demanded as soon as they were abovestairs. “I saw the bruise above your collarbone when I arrived.”
“He loses his temper sometimes,” Wynda demurred.
“Does the laird strike his wife?” Cairren wouldn’t relent.
Wynda snorted. “You’ve met the woman. Would he live to tell the tale?”
“Then why does the laird allow his son to mistreat you?”
Wynda closed the door behind them once the three women were inside Cairren’s chamber.
She sighed and drew her lips in as she decided what to say.
“Duncan and I married five summers ago, and I’m yet to give him an heir.
I was an Urquhart before I wed. The alliance secured the Munros’ access to the Moray Firth.
I grew up along the coast, I suppose, much like you.
The weather was milder there, and I was in good health.
But since moving inland, I’m poorly much more often.
Duncan becomes angry when I’m unwell, accusing me of being infirm and that’s why I haven’t carried any bairns to term. ”
Cairren watched Wynda as she spoke, and something didn’t sit right with Cairren. Wynda appeared thin and sallow, but she didn’t strike Cairren as being as being sickly so much as underfed. Though she supposed not eating enough and being beaten often would compromise anyone’s health.
“Wynda, have you lost the bairns because he’s beaten you too badly?” Cairren kept her voice low and tried to keep her tone soft. Her sister-by-marriage shook her head, but tears trailed down her cheeks. “Oh, Wynda, why haven’t you told your father? Or have you, and he refuses to help you?”
“I can’t ever reveal this to anyone. Duncan will kill me.” Wynda grabbed Cairren’s hands. “You can never let him know that I admitted this. Please, Cairren. Please.”
Cairren pulled Wynda into her arms and stroked the woman’s hair as she looked at Collette. When the women stepped apart, Collette took one of Wynda’s hands and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“If your father knew, would he help you?” Collette asked.
“I don’t know. I think so, but I can’t be sure.”
“Wynda,” Collette’s voice was laced with the authority she’d carried as the lady of Clan Kennedy for over twenty years. “If you want to go back to your parents, Innes and I will make certain you get there safely. You need only say you do, and you will.”
Wynda stood quietly, considering the offer before her, but with great regret, she shook her head.
“I can’t. The Munros are far larger than the Urquharts.
They could lay waste to my clan if I did that.
I can’t risk my family and my people just because things are hard for me here. It wouldn’t be right.”
Cairren and Collette exchanged a glance, knowing that Wynda was doing the honorable thing even if it was likely to get her killed one of these days. They had to respect her choice.
“Do you have to spend much time with him?” Cairren asked.
“Nay. I keep to myself during the day and help with the running of the keep. Duncan trains and meets with Micheil and the clan elders. He comes to my chambers some nights, but rarely these days. He only pays attention if he thinks I’ve done something wrong.”
Cairren took hold of Wynda’s hands, much like her mother had. “I will not endanger you by making it obvious that we are allies, but will you promise that if you’re ever in fear for your life, you will come to me?”
“Yes,” Wynda rasped as tears filled her eyes. The two women, neither wanted within Foulis Castle, formed a friendship more for survival than from things in common, but Cairren prayed she could protect Wynda just as she promised.