Chapter 18
Samhain was the next day, and Padraig was miserable with the constant reminders that he wouldn’t be marrying Myra.
The month’s separation from Cairren left him feeling hollow, but Myrna had been much more herself, and he once again enjoyed her company.
He hadn’t forgotten how she behaved when Cairren arrived, and doubt niggled in his mind as he tried to reconcile the Myrna he believed he knew with the one he’d seen.
Her vitriol was less caustic, but she still made disparaging remarks about Cairren daily.
He realized he’d tuned them out and didn’t notice that she said hateful and hurtful things until he heard her speaking with his mother as he passed the open door of a storage building in the bailey.
“Wouldn’t it be such a shame if someone were to accidentally bump our village whore into one of the fires?” Myrna laughed.
“Such a shame to be done with the woman who’s single-handedly ruined our family,” Mary replied.
Padraig waited around the corner to hear if there was more, but the two women moved away from the door.
He sighed as he rubbed his forehead. He wasn’t sure how seriously to take what he overheard.
He didn’t believe either woman would murder anyone, but he feared Cairren might still get hurt.
As though conjured from his thoughts, he spotted Cairren coming in through the postern gate.
As he turned toward her, a guardsman called out, “Kennedys approaching!”
Padraig watched Cairren’s head whip up as she spotted mounted riders and a wagon passing beneath the portcullis. She lifted her skirts above her ankles and darted across the bailey.
“Daniel!” Cairren called as she waved. She couldn’t believe her clansmen were at Foulis. She’d almost forgotten that the rest of her dowry had yet to arrive. She clapped her hands as the men reined in and the wagon rolled to a stop.
“Aye, lassie,” an older guardsman leaped from his horse as she ran headlong toward him.
He opened his arms to her and lifted her off her feet.
Padraig watched as she gave Daniel a smacking kiss on one cheek then the other.
She tapped his left cheek. “That one is for Maman.” Then she tapped his right cheek.
“That one is for Papa.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “And that is for Caitlyn.”
“Da, stop keeping my cousin all to yourself. You’re not the only one who’s been waiting to see her.”
“Jamie! You came too!” Daniel lowered Cairren to the ground, but a man closer to her age lifted off her feet once again and swept her into a bear hug.
“Of course, I did. Would you like to see what we brought?” Jamie waggled his eyebrows.
“Oh, Jamie, did you bring it?” Cairren pressed on his shoulders, straining to see into the wagon.
“Maybe. Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“You know I do. Stop teasing me.”
“Then you shall have to look and see.” Jamie tossed her into the air, and Cairren hooted.
“You did! You were able to get it here in one piece!”
Jamie tossed her again, and she clapped. “You brought the wool too.”
Jamie tossed her third time before placing her back on the ground. “Aye, Lady Collette threatened to skelp us alive if aught happened to your loom or the wool. But Cairren, that isn’t the only surprise.”
“What else is there? I know everything else Maman and Papa were sending.”
“Not everything, Cairren.” A deep voice came from the opposite side of the wagon where she hadn’t been looking.
“Alex,” Cairren breathed. She stepped away from her cousin as Alexander Armstrong reached out his hands.
She placed hers in his, and he squeezed them before pulling her in for an embrace that was too intimate for a married woman, but after a month of isolation and hurt, it was the contact she needed to not feel so desperately alone.
Padraig watched as the Kennedys entered the bailey and how Cairren ran to greet them.
The first man to greet her was old enough to be her father, and her playful kisses didn’t bother Padraig.
But he growled low in his throat as he watched the younger man tossing his wife in the air.
He’d never heard her laugh, let alone giggle as she did with her family.
It didn’t matter that the man said he was her cousin; he was too close to her age to be touching her as he did.
But the third man who greeted Cairren changed everything.
Padraig couldn’t hear what they said, and when the stranger cradled Cairren in his arms, Padraig saw red.
He charged across the bailey as they pulled apart, but he watched as they held hands again, their fingers intertwined.
“Who’re you?” Padraig demanded as he stopped just short of wrenching Cairren away from the man.
Cairren gasped as her eyes flared open, but the man still holding his wife’s hands had the audacity to laugh.
“So much for Highland hospitality,” the stranger jeered, and the Kennedy men chuckled. “Who’re you?”
“I’m the man whose wife’s hands you're holding,” Padraig snapped.
He watched a transformation come over all the Kennedys, and the man who’d been holding Cairren pressed her behind him, as if he were the one who would defend her.
Cairren tried to step around the newcomer, but he kept her away from Padraig.
Black dots danced at the corner of his eyes as his pulse thrummed at his temples.
“Padraig Munro, this is Alexander Armstrong. Alex, this is Padraig.” Cairren tried to make the introductions and once again step around Alex, but he turned to her, lifted her off her feet and set her on the seat of the wagon.
“You keep touching my wife,” Padraig snarled.
Alex’s hands rested loosely on his belt, but there was no mistaking his meaning.
They were there to grab his dirks if he needed them.
“You’re awfully possessive for a mon who’s made it known across the Highlands that he doesn’t want to be married.
Or at least not to his wife.” Alex kept his voice low, and it sounded like the deep rumble of a volcano about to explode.
At Cairren’s whimper, Alex canted his head to keep his eyes on Padraig while speaking to Cairren.
“I’m sorry to be the one who tells you, Cairren.
But you should ken that word has spread.
It seems you’ve had a few market days since you married, and people are talking aboot how the recent Munro bride’s husband is cuckolding her.
I hadn’t even known a man could do that, but I heard it too many times to doubt it. ”
“Ye piece of shite,” Padraig hissed as he lunged at Alex. He would never be able to explain how Cairren made it from the wagon bench to standing in front of him before he swung, but she did.
“Stop, Padraig. Alex is one of my oldest and dearest friends. He fostered with us, and we thought maybe one day… Don’t fight, please.
” Cairren stepped closer to Padraig than she had been in weeks.
His scent filled her nostrils, and it tempted her to cling to him, but she wouldn’t allow herself to become distracted.
She looked into Padraig’s deep brown eyes and whispered, “You’ve refused to choose. Don’t make me have to.”
Padraig’s eyes flashed down to Cairren, then to Alex, who wrapped an arm around Cairren’s middle and pulled her back against him and then behind him. It was the third time he’d made a move to protect Cairren when Padraig had made none.
“So he’s the one you wanted to marry,” Padraig accused as his eyes darted between the two.
“I did when I was younger. We thought we were in love for a while.” Cairren shrugged as she looked up at Alex.
“Then we grew up and realized that we were more like siblings. I told you, Alex fostered with us. I’ve known him since I was seven.
For a while, it just seemed like Alex would be the logical person to marry.
He’s a neighbor, and we’d known each other since childhood.
We even convinced ourselves we were in love. ”
“But then we realized that marrying someone because it was convenient or because it was just comfortable after so much time around each other wasn’t what either of us wanted,” Alex explained.
“Rather than seeing Cairren as a wife, I went back to seeing her as a sister. It’s a much better arrangement. ”
“Padraig?” Cairren’s voice grew hesitant, and both Alex’s and Padraig’s eyes swung to her. “Where’s your mother? I need to ask permission for chambers to be provided for Alex, as the heir to Clan Armstrong, and for Daniel and Jamie. Daniel is my father’s cousin, and Jamie is his son.”
“Ask permission?” Jamie pushed forward. “This is your home, and we’re your family.”
Cairren shook her head, praying Jamie wouldn’t be as persistent as he usually was. She prayed he would understand the look she gave him, but when he opened his mouth again, she knew he hadn’t.
“Why do you sound afraid to speak to your mother-by-marriage, Cairren?” Jamie demanded.
Cairren opened and closed her mouth thrice like a hooked fish. Padraig watched her struggle to decide what to tell the men without lying. He eased her into his embrace and guided her head against his chest before he whispered in her ear.
“Take your family inside for refreshment, and I’ll make the arrangements with my mother.
” Cairren nodded and started to pull away, but Padraig’s breath tickled against her once again.
“Ren, their chambers will be on your floor. Do you want them to know you don’t sleep on the same floor as the rest of the laird’s family? ”
“No more than I want them to know that the woman you’re cuckolding me with sleeps on the same floor as you.” Cairren felt Padraig go rigid, but she didn’t care. He wasn’t the one who was the laughingstock of the Highlands.
“Then stay with me in my chamber while they’re here.”
Cairren’s lips pinched together, and Padraig noticed the corner of her left eye twitched, but she nodded. She released him and turned to her family and friend. “Let’s make our way into the Great Hall. The evening meal won’t be long, but I can get you something to drink while we wait.”
Padraig watched Cairren disappear into the circle of men who accompanied her into the keep, then turned to look for his mother. He didn’t need to go anywhere because Mary and Myrna stood watching.
“How quaint,” Mary snipped.
“Mother, I need three guest chambers prepared for the night.”
“We don’t have room,” Mary’s haughty tone grated on her son’s nerves.
He hadn’t forgotten what he’d heard earlier.
He counted his blessings that their guests arrived when they did.
They would keep Cairren safe while he dealt with the inevitable emotional roller coaster Myrna would drag him on the next day.
“We do. Cairren will share my chamber while our guests are here.”
“What?” Myrna screeched. “Tomorrow was to be our wedding night, and now you’ll have that whore back in our bed.”
Padraig’s patience snapped. “That’s it. I’ve warned ye aboot the things ye say.
What if one of our guests overhears? Do ye want me called out?
Do ye want the Munros and the Rosses to be shamed across the Highlands?
Ye may nae value Cairren, but her clan certainly does.
Who do you think people will believe? A man and a woman whining aboot nae getting their way, or a group of warriors defending their lady’s honor. Ye return to Belnagown in the morning.”
“But what aboot the feast and the festival?”
“Ye should have thought aboot that before ye opened yer gob. Go and pack. We ride out at dawn, Myrna. And dinna think to change ma mind. Tomorrow meant as much to me as it did ye. I’m as heartbroken aboot how our lives have turned out as ye are.
But I married Cairren to help this clan.
I willna have ye jeopardize that, or this will all have been for naught. ”
“But Padraig—” Myrna’s voice faded as Padraig stormed into the Great Hall only to find Cairren seated at a table below the salt with the Kennedys surrounding her, and Alexander Armstrong sitting so close that she was practically on his lap.