Chapter 47
Padraig and Cairren left their audience with the king in stunned silence.
They’d been unprepared for King Robert to order the clan council to remove Micheil as laird.
Cairren nearly fell over in shock when the king refused their suggestion that Mary retire to her clan.
He said he only trusted nuns to keep her from causing more havoc.
He suggested a couple of abbeys in the Hebrides and one further north, in Sinclair territory.
Places so remote that both her clan of origin and clan-by-marriage would soon forget her.
The Bruce asked what Padraig intended to do if he accepted the lairdship—a responsibility the king made clear he expected Padraig to take.
Padraig shared Cairren’s suggestions and was emphatic that they were recommendations from Cairren.
The king was pleased and agreed with her ideas.
There had been nothing more to say, so they were dismissed.
Still reeling from his orders, they returned to their chamber and began packing.
It was only after their satchels were closed and waiting at the foot of their bed that they were ready to discuss the decision made for them.
“I can’t believe, just like that, we’re returning to Foulis, and you’re to be the laird. Is it divine intervention?” Cairren mused.
“I dinna ken. I suppose we’ll see soon enough if it’s that or the Devil’s curse.” Padraig encircled Cairren’s waist and dropped a kiss on her nose. “I wouldnae say this in front of the king, but I need ye to ken that we will leave the moment ye dinna feel safe or ye’re unhappy.”
“We can’t do that. Not once we’re the laird and lady. Duty doesn’t work that way.”
“It does when yer first duty is to yer wife. I ken sometimes duty will come before what we want. But I willna let it come before yer safety. I willna tolerate any disrespect to ye. I willna waiver on that either.” Padraig’s expression was so serious that Cairren knew arguing further would be pointless.
“I’d like to see Caity again before we leave,” Cairren shifted the subject.
“Shall we go now?”
“Nay. We have a couple of hours before she’ll be excused from the queen’s solar.”
“How shall we ever pass the time, mo chridhe?” Padraig was already unlacing Cairren’s gown as she reached to unfasten his brooch.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll show me.” Cairren waggled her eyebrows before her gaze dropped below Padraig’s waist.
“Cheeky lass. I love ye, Ren.” Padraig tipped Cairren’s chin up and brushed a soft kiss across her lips.
“And I love you, even if you’re a wee bossy at times.”
“Bossy, am I? Then I order ye onto this bed to enjoy yer husband’s loving ministrations.”
“Aye, ma laird,” Cairren giggled as she raced to the bed, and howled with laughter as Padraig snagged her around the waist, then tossed her onto the bed. They were not bored while waiting for Cairren’s sister.
Cairren laughed with her sister throughout the evening meal after convincing Padraig to sit with the Armstrongs.
She watched Caitlyn and Alexander, and she wondered if she’d missed something over the years after she and Alex agreed they didn’t suit.
She elbowed Padraig, cocked an eyebrow, and tilted her head.
But he was clueless, furrowing his brow and shaking his head.
Cairren leaned in and whispered her suspicions and watched understanding bring a smile to his face.
Cairren danced with Alex and Lachlan in between dances with Padraig.
She visited with Blair, and they once more promised to visit one another the next time Blair traveled home to Dunrobin.
Padraig arranged for their horses to be saddled and waiting for them as the first rays of sunlight peaked over the horizon.
The Sutherlands joined them in the bailey to see them off.
It was a tearful goodbye as Caitlyn and Blair wished their siblings godspeed.
Cairren and Lachlan both turned back to wave goodbye before they passed under the castle’s portcullis.
The roads were clear of snow for the first three days of their journey, but as they entered the mountains, snow covered much of the trail along the steep ridges.
Padraig’s heart was in his throat as he watched Cairren in front of him.
He’d debated whether he should lead as they walked beside their horses, or if he should remain behind Cairren so that he never lost sight of her.
She smiled back at him as she walked on the inside of the path, her body brushing against the rock face as her horse plodded along.
Padraig was certain the icy wind that whipped through the ridges chilled Cairren to the bone; he promised himself that he would feed her until she could eat no more once they arrived at Foulis.
He would see that she gained some meat on her bones, lest she freeze in the Highlands.
Everyone breathed easier once they left the Cairngorm Mountains in their shadows.
The last two days of travel proved that Scotland could experience all four seasons in a matter of days.
They left the last traces of snow behind them only to have buckets of rain dumped on them until the last two hours of the ride to Foulis.
The clouds cleared, the sun shone, and it was warm enough for Cairren to push her arisaid off her head.
She drew in a breath of the fresh Highland air, easing some of the anxiety that intensified as they drew nearer to their destination.
She glanced at the men who surrounded her and found Padraig watching her. His smile warmed her more than the sun.
“Perhaps the Lord is letting us know there is a bright future ahead of us,” Cairren mused.
“Or mayhap He is shining a light on the truth. That ye’re an angel sent down to us.”
“I don’t know aboot all that, but I’m holding onto hope,” Cairren returned his smile.
“I’m clinging to it,” Padraig frowned.
“Don’t do that. You’ll give yourself wrinkles, and I like your face as it is,” Cairren teased.
“Aye, we all ken how much you like your husband’s face,” Lachlan interrupted.
“You two can’t stop making cow eyes at one another.
Makes the bannocks hard to keep down.” Lachlan’s teasing tone took the bite out of his comments, but Cairren’s cheeks went red.
It had been too cold to think about slipping away to tryst, but she and Padraig found snuggling close together and sharing their plaids allowed for certain intimacies.
Cairren returned her eyes to road ahead of them as the tops of Foulis’s tower came into view.
Padraig drew his mount closer to hers and reached out to cover her hand.
She spread her fingers so his could entwine with hers.
She shot him a thankful smile, and he nodded.
They’d discovered during the journey they were starting to read one another’s thoughts.
Their gazes and body language expressed what they couldn’t say out loud.
It was a level of intimacy Cairren never thought to share with her husband.
She’d seen her parents communicate in such ways throughout her life, but it seemed impossible to fathom when she arrived at Foulis the first time.
Now, as the keep became more visible, she relied on Padraig’s silent support.
He’d pledged over and over throughout the journey that if she didn’t receive a respectful welcome, they wouldn’t even dismount.
He swore the first time anyone said or did anything to offend or threaten her, they would leave and never look back.
She’d never imagined Padraig would become a doting husband to her.
She’d feared she would spend much of her life watching Padraig treat Myrna the way he treated Cairren now.
But reflecting on Padraig and Myrna’s relationship, she’d seen an indulgent man giving in into the whims of a self-centered, entitled bitch.
Cairren had a moment’s remorse for her choice of words, but she knew of no other that seemed adequate without being vulgar, even in her own mind.
She doubted that Padraig and Myrna would have ever developed a relationship with depth, even if Duncan hadn’t been in the middle.
Perhaps Myrna would have matured, or perhaps she would have remained selfish and hateful.
Either way, Cairren was glad Myrna was no longer a part of their lives, for Padraig’s sake and for her own.
Their party rode through the gates with Matthew and Dougal leading the way.
Padraig refused to ride anywhere but beside Cairren, just as he had throughout the entire journey.
He cared not that people expected him to ride at the front of the group; he wouldn’t entertain Cairren being out of reach in case of an attack.
The Highland air felt fresh, lighter than it had during Cairren’s first time in Foulis.
An invisible cloud had lifted over the Munros’ keep, and Cairren felt it.
She noticed smiles where before there had been doubt and suspicion.
Children whose parents had held them back at Cairren’s first arrival ran out to greet their party.
Suddenly Cairren felt wary. The change was too significant to feel authentic.
Catriona, Meg, and Elspeth stood by the keep’s steps, waving their greeting, though Lady and Laird Munro were noticeably absent.
At first Cairren breathed a sigh of relief; then she realized that their absence could not be solely due to their hatred of her.
She was uncertain how the clan would receive news of Lady Munro’s banishment, and the impending reaction made her stomach churn.
She turned her gaze away from the women and the keep, and saw Peter and Henry standing among the guards assembled behind the clan council.
She darted a glance at Padraig, who was also looking in that direction.
He hadn’t dismounted, and she took her cues from him.