Chapter 41
Cairren swallowed her tears as she moved behind a tree, one of her spare chemises and her knife in hand.
Her courses began on the third day of their trek to Stirling.
Disappointment unlike anything she ever imagined overwhelmed her when she realized she wasn’t pregnant.
The babe would have been her only reason to remain tied to Padraig.
There was no reason for them to remain married, and no reason for Cairren to even consider returning to Foulis.
Cairren tore the chemise into strips and prayed Padraig didn’t inquire about what was taking so long.
He’d taken her to the stream to bathe, even offering to help her with a grin, but she complained that the water reminded her of how cold she was the last time she was submerged.
She turned her back and hurried to wash while keeping her chemise from falling into the water.
Now that she’d torn through her second spare chemise, she didn’t see how much longer she could avoid discussing her courses with him, as she had laundry to do.
She hadn’t shared her suspicions about being with child, and now she was relieved she hadn’t.
Cairren dried her tears and stepped around the tree to where Padraig stood with his back to her.
She tapped his back as she walked by. They’d slept next to one another the previous three nights, but hadn’t made their bedrolls into one.
Neither hinted at slipping away for a tryst, and neither attempted any affection.
It was as though any connection they’d had evaporated.
As she approached her bedroll, she noticed Lachlan watching her.
When he cocked an eyebrow, she shook her head.
He’d deduced that she thought she was expecting, and apparently he’d figured out that she wasn’t.
He’d asked her discreetly during their first stop the day they left Foulis.
Cairren supposed it was because he had two sisters that he was aware of such things.
She’d caught Padraig looking at her midriff more than once since they left, but he said nothing.
She suspected he’d noticed her courses hadn’t started since she arrived at his home.
Like many women her age, they were irregular; they usually came three months apart.
It was only because that length of time drew out that made her wonder.
She realized she’d been hoping to find firmness in her belly, and so she had.
Recognizing her error didn’t make it any less painful to accept that she wouldn’t have Padraig’s child.
She slid into her bedroll and pulled both her Kennedy and Munro plaids around her.
Flurries fell throughout their fourth day on the road, and the temperature was still falling.
She shivered as she tried to get comfortable.
She went rigid when she felt Padraig move his bedding closer, but she couldn’t contain the sigh of relief when his heat encircled her.
“What’s wrong, Ren? Are you not feeling well?” Padraig feared the journey in the foul weather was proving too much for Cairren.
“I’m feeling fine, Padraig,” Cairren reassured.
“That doesn’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“There’s naught wrong, naught that needs fixing.”
“Then you’re hiding something from me,” Padraig accused.
Cairren looked over her shoulder, glaring at me. “You dare accuse me of hiding things? You’re a master of that craft.”
“You’re still not answering. Why are you evading my concern?”
Cairren rolled onto her back and looked at Padraig, who rested on his elbow. “Very well. I got my courses yesterday. I’m disappointed.” Cairren tried to roll back, but Padraig snagged her shoulder.
“You’re disappointed that you’re not with child. Did you think you were?” Padraig felt the heat rising in his neck as his anger blossomed. He understood Cairren intended to keep that news from him. She would have gone to Stirling, even Dunure, and not told him that they were having a child.
“I suspected I was. I wanted to be, but at the same time, I thought I’d found a sound reason for leaving Munro land: I convinced myself I was having a bairn.”
“That’s why Lachlan insisted on coming. He knew, and I didn’t.” Padraig made to roll away, but Cairren grasped the front of his leine.
“Oh, no, you don’t. You wanted to know, so now I’ll tell you. It terrified me I would end up like Wynda,” Cairren blurted.
“Wynda? Bluidy hell.” Padraig stared aghast at her. “I hadn’t thought of that. You wanted to leave because you feared our bairn was in danger.”
Cairren nodded as tears created rivulets down her cheeks.
She wanted to curl into a ball and forget about the cramps she felt, and the emptiness in her heart.
“I wouldn’t have kept our child from you, Padraig.
I wasn’t even certain. I suspected it more than aught, but without waiting longer or seeing a midwife who could better examine me, I went by missing my courses.
It was enough to make me certain I couldn’t stay. And I didn’t tell Lachlan. He guessed.”
“What aboot now?” Padraig’s voice rasped. He shut his eyes when he saw the resignation in her face. “You still want to go to Stirling.”
“It’s for the best, Padraig.”
"I want to snap at you and ask for who, but I know the answer to that.”
“My intention isn’t to hurt you, but neither do I want to die young.”
There seemed little to say after that. It was reasonable, and Padraig knew it.
He didn’t want Cairren to die young either, and her comparison to Wynda shook him to the core.
He thought about Cairren nearly drowning, and he knew it would have been history repeating itself.
He reached out to wrap his arm around Cairren, but left it suspended as he whispered, “Let me hold you tonight, Ren.”
Cairren said nothing, but inched closer until her head rested on Padraig’s shoulder and her arm draped across his chest. He held her close, kissed her forehead, and closed his eyes, but he didn’t fall asleep until well after he was sure she had.
He would never walk away from Cairren again, but he suspected he was in for a fight.