Chapter 40 #2
“Lady Cairren, I would say the same,” Meg approached from behind Cairren.
“I said wretched things to ye at the bonfire. I wasnae taking enough care of ma wean, and it was easier to blame ye than to admit I made the mistake. Ye have been a true blessing. I dinna ken how ye can always be so gracious. I couldnae.”
Cairren could only nod as she looked at the three women before her. She realized that while it wasn’t many, she’d made three friends without realizing it.
“Lady Cairren?” A timid voice called out, and Cairren looked beyond Meg’s shoulder to see Athne creeping toward them.
Tears streamed down her face, and she looked terrified to come closer.
Cairren passed an assessing gaze over Athne, taking in her body language and realizing the woman was afraid of rejection.
Cairren nodded and forced a smile. She didn’t trust the woman after Athne had denounced her and corroborated Father Mitchell’s claims. “Lady Cairren, I need to tell ye and Padraig the truth aboot what I did. Now that Father Mitchell is gone, I amnae so scared.”
“You feared Father Mitchell?” Padraig asked.
“We all did,” Meg blurted. Cairren suspected as much, but she smiled at her outspoken friend. She liked that Meg wasn’t shy about speaking up, especially once she was on Cairren’s side.
“Ma lady,” Athne knotted her fingers so tightly that they were white.
“I accepted yer help because I kenned ma wean needed it, but it was Father Mitchell and Lady Mary who told me to ask. Father Mitchell said he would come to ma door, and I was to accuse ye of witchery. He warned that ma soul and that of ma wean would be eternally damned and that the laird would banish ma family if I refused to rid our clan of—of—vermin,” Athne choked out the last word.
“My mother was there?” Padraig asked, appalled.
“Aye. She said she would see ma husband removed from the guards if I didna say exactly what she told me.” Athne sobbed, sniffing her nose.
“Ye were so kind to me and ma wean, Lady Cairren. I’d seen how ye’d helped others, and I was sure ye could help ma wee one.
But I couldnae risk ma family, ma lady.”
“Athne, I understand. I believe I would have done just as you did, if they put me in that position. I believe there’s naught I wouldn’t do to protect my children. They wronged us both, but I respect that you’re making amends,” Cairren responded.
“I want to, ma lady. I wish ye werenae leaving. Ye’re good for our clan.
Did ye ken that the weans ye taught to sing in French have taught the others?
They asked while ye were gone why ye werenae here to teach them more.
” Athne looked back and waved over a girl of seven or eight. “This is ma lass, Sorcha.”
Sorcha bobbed a wobbly curtsey and held out a doll to Cairren. “I made this for ye, Lady Cairren. Do ye see how I used brown wool for her hair and skin, just like ye have? Isnae she pretty? I tried to make her look like ye.”
Cairren’s eyes watered as she squatted down to eye level with the girl.
“This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received. You’re a kind lass, and I will cherish this always.
” Cairren fell backwards with an oomph as the little girl knocked her over with her embrace.
Cairren giggled as the girl squeezed her thin arms around her neck.
She wrapped her arms around the girl in return.
Padraig helped her to her feet, and she brushed off her skirts.
She never imagined such a warm send-off, but she reminded herself that these people in front of her were but a tiny part of the clan.
“Lady Cairren,” a gravelly voice called out.
“A moment, please.” Cairren recognized Adam and remembered that he was the one who saved Padraig from the cave when Duncan pushed him in years ago.
Adam glanced at the others but returned his focus to Cairren, who wasn’t sure what the gruff warrior wanted.
“Good morn, Adam,” Cairren greeted him.
“Good morn, ma lady.” Adam cleared his throat, but his voice was still deep.
“I dinna ken if Padraig told ye what happened at that cave when he was a lad. But I ken how hard it is to swim out from there. He and I nearly died that day. It was by the grace of God that it happened just before the tide truly changed. If I’d nae gotten there when I did, I dinna believe Padraig would be alive.
I dinna believe either of us would be alive if I’d jumped in any later.
I canna believe ye did it with yer hands bound. ”
Adam cleared his throat again. He appeared uncomfortable when he glanced at Cairren, but his face broke into a wide grin when he looked at Padraig.
The sun-weathered skin crinkling beside his eyes.
“I jumped in without a stitch on, kenning even a leine would weigh me down. I dinna ken how ye did it with any part of yer heavy gown on.” Adam grew serious and bowed to Cairren.
“But it isnae just that feat that makes me admire ye more than anyone I ken. I could have, should have, spoken out against the laird and lady. It was ma duty as a member of the clan council to balance Laird Micheil’s power, and I didna.
Ye’ve taught many of us a valuable lesson, ma lady.
Honor, integrity, and strength have naught to do with anyone’s skin.
I’m sorry I didna defend ye. I swore as a young mon to protect all members of the clan and the laird’s family.
I never specified what color their skin had to be.
I meant it to be everyone, and it should have been everyone. I humbly apologize, Lady Cairren.”
Padraig had never heard Adam speak so much at one time.
He witnessed the tears that gathered in the aged warrior’s eyes, and it shocked him to see anything but the sternness he’d always known.
Not for the first time in his life, he wished Adam had been his father.
Adam was the man who taught him to hold a sword and to ride a horse.
He’d been strict and relentless, but Padraig owed Adam a debt of gratitude for what he did to raise Padraig to be the warrior he was now.
Cairren came to stand before Adam and shyly wrapped her arms around him.
“You remind me of my papa. Thank you,” she whispered.
Adam froze for a moment before he returned the embrace, his massive arms and chest dwarfing Cairren.
When Cairren pulled away, she noticed they’d gathered a crowd.
The expressions many wore confused her, but none were hostile.
Some looked bewildered, others curious. Many looked regretful, and a few appeared disinterested.
But she didn’t fear anyone, and no one was glaring at her.
She noted that the laird and lady were visibly absent, and she didn’t know if Duncan had returned.
“Who’s going to treat ma gout?” A reedy voice demanded. Cairren chuckled as Arnold cracked his walking stick against the offending ankles of anyone standing his way. “Ye were set to leave without even a fare-thee-well.”
“You shall have your proper goodbye, Arnold. It comes with these instructions: no rich foods, keep your feet up at night, and soak them in lukewarm water if they swell too much.” Cairren offered her advice with a smile.
She imagined the man was eighty if he was a day, but he wasn’t in his dotage.
His mind was sharp, and he was in fine health other than his gout.
She didn’t doubt he had several more years of abusing ankles ahead of him.
“If Adam and his ugly mug got an embrace, I shall demand one too.” Cairren’s face relaxed into a soft smile as she reached out to him. He murmured against his ear. “I’ll work on them all. Ye’re too good for us to never come back.”
Cairren nodded, but she wouldn’t make false promises.
She doubted she would ever return to Foulis.
It had been a temporary stop on a much longer life journey.
She turned toward Lachlan and his men, who stood idly watching.
She’d forgotten about them and felt bad for keeping them waiting.
She glanced up at Padraig, who smiled at her.
The regret in his eyes felt like too little, too late to Cairren.
He helped her mount before she, Padraig, and the extra men he’d gathered, along with the Sutherland men rode out. She didn’t look back.