When Cairren dashed inside, Padraig remained outside. He’d ruined Cairren’s first kiss and what was undoubtedly the most earth-shattering one he’d ever shared. His rod throbbed with unspent need, so he opted for a dip in the loch rather than return to the Great Hall. He stood in the same spot he had countless times before, prepared to conjure an image of Myrna as he took himself in hand, but only Cairren materialized in his imagination. Remembering her swollen lips and glazed eyes as he pulled away from their kiss made his cock pulse and leak. He continued to work his length as he recalled how she’d felt in his hands, and it was her name on his lips when jets of seed sprayed into the water. He longed for the feel of her in his arms once again as the euphoria waned. He was certain taking himself in hand while thinking of Myrna was never as satisfying as picturing Cairren. As he trudged back to the keep, he’d never been more miserable in his life.
Chapter Seven
Collette brushed Cairren’s hair as they sat before the fire in Cairren’s chamber. They’d spent the day with Innes away from the keep and away from the Munros. Innes and Collette had lain awake late into the night, both fretting about the future they’d unwittingly forced Cairren into. They’d finally agreed they would insist on a handfasting instead of a regular marriage. They would gladly forfeit all of Cairren’s dowry if it meant she could return home in a year and a day if she were miserable. After they broke their fast, Innes pulled Micheil aside to discuss the desired change in plans. Cairren hadn’t understood why the conversation appeared heated in the beginning, but Micheil’s expression turned from enraged to smug as the two lairds returned to the dais. He cast her a priggish smile that made Cairren go cold and desperate to learn the newest development.
Her parents' news stunned her, but she confessed it was a great relief to know that there was a possibility that she wouldn’t be sentenced to a lifetime with the Munros. After three years as a lady-in-waiting, she was confident she could endure a year in the Highlands. She wondered how much more relieved Padraig would be than her when he learned the news. If it was only for a year, she found she didn’t care what Padraig did or with whom he did it. She would gladly turn a blind eye and let Myrna have him. With a lighter heart, Cairren enjoyed her family’s trip to the loch. They picnicked and even swam together. She’d grown up swimming in the frigid waters and rough currents of the Irish Sea and the Firth of Clyde. As she dove and turned in the warm summer water, Innes teased her.
“You’re still more seal than woman,” Innes chuckled, then spluttered as Cairren splashed water in his face.
“Catch me if you can,” she called before diving below the surface. He easily caught his daughter’s ankle and reeled her back in before lifting her overhead and tossing her just as he had when she was a child. She hooted as she sailed through the air and emerged giggling, as though she hadn’t a care in the world. And for the brief time the trio spent together that afternoon, Cairren could pretend that she had none.
But now she sat with Collette, freshly bathed as her mother wove the flowers into her hair that they’d picked the day before. She was scrubbed clean, and as her chemise brushed against her skin, her body felt sleek from the waxing they’d performed the night before. At four-and-ten, Collette taught Cairren how to use honey to remove the hair from her mons. At the time, the anticipated pain terrified her, and it shocked her that her mother would propose something so indecent, but she soon preferred the feel. She hadn’t enjoyed the luxury frequently at court, but she waxed often enough to keep from being miserable each time she did.
“Maman, are you certain being smooth won’t repulse Padraig? Won’t he think he’s bedding a child? This isn’t something any Scottish mon expects, or at least none that aren’t courtiers. What if he rejects me?” Even more.
“Ma petite fille, I can almost certainly agree that he will never have seen the like, but I can also promise that it will intrigue him more than you suspect. You will feel different from any of the women in his past, and it will surely increase his pleasure. As long as you remember what I said about not lying there like a dead fish and at the least pretend to enjoy his attention, he will return to your bed.”
“But what if I only want this one night? I can’t risk getting with child if I intend to repudiate the handfast.”
"Mon cher coeur.” My dear heart, Collette sighed. “Don’t go into this assuming it will end. You will make yourself even more miserable if you do naught but count down the days. Approach this with the open mind and open heart you bring to all things. If you close yourself off to the mere chance you might find happiness here, no one will accept you. People will be able to tell. They’ll sense that sentiment, even if you never speak aloud your intentions.”
“But, Maman, now that Padraig and Myrna must know it’s only a handfast, they’ll be even more resolute to marry. What’s keeping them from speaking of their marriage or their wedding plans in front of me? I really will be just a chest of gold to them. How can I not look forward to the end?”
“Chaque chose en son temps,” Collette reminded Cairren. While Cairren knew the words meant each thing in its own time, she understood her mother meant not to worry until there was reason to. But Collette hadn’t been standing outside while Cairren and Padraig kissed. She hadn’t experienced the light-headed feeling that engulfed Cairren as Padraig kissed her and his hands roamed over her. She’d been able to forget who they were and why their match was a disaster. Or at least she had until she realized that he was thinking about Myrna rather than her. Then the bliss crumbled, and the hurt returned. She replayed the kiss over and over, convinced Padraig must have been imagining he was kissing Myrna to offer her such passion. The rejection stung, even if she reminded herself that she never should have expected more. She once again dreaded climbing into bed beside Padraig, fearful that he would always be fooling himself into thinking it was Myrna rather than Cairren he coupled with.
“Oui, Maman. Je sais.” Cairren might know what Collette meant and even agreed, but it didn’t make it any easier. Collette patted Cairren’s hair into place one last time, and Cairren had to admit that her coiffure exceeded even the most beautiful she’d seen at court. “C’est tres joli. Merci, Maman.”
It was very pretty, and she was thankful, but she knew they would judge her appearance not by her hair, but what people had already decided was the truth about Cairren. She sighed but twisted to view the entire hairstyle in the looking glass. Her mother had fashioned a circlet from a braid before nestling a gold circlet within the circle of the plait. Collette banded the hair that remained hanging down Cairren’s back every few inches with brightly colored ribbons that complimented her pale blue gown.
The gown was more conservative than the ones Cairren wore at court. It was even conservative compared to most of the ones she wore at home, but it created a stunning effect. Cairren had designed it to cover as much of her as possible, but the fabric draped around her like a second skin. The high neckline accentuated her breasts without hinting at the skin that lay beneath. Collette understood the intrigue it would create in men, but she’d said nothing to Cairren, knowing her daughter’s intent was to decrease attention to her body. Collette’s gentle smile played at the corners of her mouth as she watched Cairren don the kirtle. The embroidery around the collar drew the eye to Cairren’s swan-like neck and defined jawline. Her face was rounded and soft, each feature dainty. The embroidery at the waist resembled a girdle, but a vee rested at the center, pointing to the place Collette was certain Padraig would enjoy discovering. The full skirts shimmered each time Cairren moved, and the overly long sleeves were looser than what was a la mode, but they made each of her arms’ movements elegant.
A knock at the door sounded as Cairren took a deep breath, steeling herself for what came next. She knew it was Innes coming to escort mother and daughter to the kirk. Collette opened the door, and Innes’s face immediately shone with pride. He stepped inside Cairren’s chamber and held out his hands, which Cairren eagerly took. His massive ha
nds dwarfed hers, but their difference in size had always made Cairren feel safe. She’d had a brief sense of that when Padraig held her the night before—before it all came crashing down.
“My wee lassie, you are the bonniest sight this side of the Cairngorms. You’re radiant, and I have never been prouder to be your papa.” Innes blinked several times, and Cairren saw the wetness in his eyes. “You’re hardly a wean anymore, but you will always be my wee lassie. Remember that always.” Innes pulled Cairren into his embrace and tucked her against his chest, careful not to muss her hair.
“Thank you, Papa. I will happily remain your little lass forever.” Cairren strained to kiss the bristles that ran along Innes’s jaw, his beard having tickled her since she was a child. Innes shifted his attention to Collette, and she stepped forward as Innes wrapped one arm around each of them.
“I am the luckiest mon alive. God has blessed me with a wife and daughters I love with all my heart.” Innes’s words sparked regret in Cairren that Caitlyn wasn’t there beside her. They’d been the best of friends their entire lives, and it had felt like Cairren lost a limb when she went to court. The phantom pains she’d felt returned as her arms tingled to hug her sister.
“We are just as lucky to have you, mon cheri amour.” Just as Collette had always called Cairren her little girl, she’d always called Innes her dear love. To Cairren’s ear, it sounded even better than its equal translation of beloved, somehow more sentimental. Cairren forced away the disappointment that she would never hear such an endearment from the man she was handfasting. While she dressed, she’d resigned herself to what was to come and chided herself for self-pity. Duty came before the individual, a mantra she’d adopted when she left home. She would accept come what may with an open heart and an open mind, just as her mother advised.
“Are you ready, wee one?” Innes whispered. Even though she wasn’t, she nodded. She would discover soon enough what was coming.
Padraig slipped away from his nagging mother and Myrna’s constant sighs. His head ached, and he needed peace to collect himself before he would be forced to stand on the kirk steps handfasting with a woman who couldn’t be more opposite in appearance from the woman he loved, the woman he longed to marry, the one he was supposed to marry. He’d accepted his fate and resigned himself to accept his immediate future. Micheil pulled Padraig aside and explained the wedding would be a handfasting instead. While it was an inordinate relief to know an end was in sight, he dreaded listening to Mary and Myrna counting down the days until Cairren left. Until the number was in the single digits, Padraig feared it would demoralize him more. And he admitted to himself that Myrna’s attitude was becoming tiresome. Her aggrieved huffs and wistful sighs were wearing his nerves thin, a first between them.
Their courtship had been idyllic, both cherishing every moment they spent together, planning their life together and the family they would build. They’d been so like-minded in all things that Padraig assumed he would never find fault in Myrna. But now her petulance and insolence made him wonder what she would be like if they did ever disagree. For the first time, she seemed less attractive to him.
Cairren had made her dislike of their situation clear, but each point she raised had been valid. Padraig had thought about their conversation both inside and outside the keep for most of the night. Cairren’s accusations had been truthful, and her concerns about Myrna were honest without being spiteful. He’d tried to imagine how Myrna would feel if she were put in Cairren’s place. His heart ached at the thought, and some sympathy that welled in his chest from his fictitious scenario spilled over to Cairren. If he’d intended to keep himself only unto Myrna when they thought they would marry, he’d accepted that he should do the same for Cairren. Now that he knew that it was only for a year, the sacrifice seemed less significant.
Laughter carried to him on a breeze as he wandered toward the loch. He caught snippets of French and knew the Kennedys were nearby. He assumed they were there for a walk like he was, so the loud cry and splash startled him. He feared one of the ladies had fallen into the lake if they’d been standing on an outcropping. The rocks were slick even in dry weather, and it was easy to fall. Padraig sprinted toward the shore, but came to a halt when he spotted Cairren giggling as she soared through the air before tucking into a tight ball just before landing in the water. Innes’s chuckle turned Padraig’s attention toward his soon-to-be father-by-marriage. The amusement and fondness on his face spoke of his affection for his daughter. He noticed Collette sat on a rock dangling her feet in the water, wearing only her chemise. But his attention reverted to Cairren as she swam close to Innes, then flipped onto her back, kicking water in her father’s face. In the blink of an eye, she was on her belly and disappearing beneath the surface. Padraig watched as Innes took off after his daughter underwater, and it was only a moment later that Cairren’s head emerged as Innes dragged her back to him.
“What am I to do with such a naughty lass who splashes her father?” Innes teased.
“Toss me out, Papa!” Cairren replied. Innes hoisted Cairren over his head, her petite body weighing little more than a feather to the braw warrior. He bounced her thrice before hurling her forward. This time, instead of tucking into a ball, Cairren stretched into a graceful arrow, entering the water headfirst. The Kennedys’ playfulness mesmerized Padraig. He’d seen no family, noble or otherwise, so relaxed and happy in one another’s company. He supposed the Sinclair siblings were the closest he could think of. The four brothers and their little sister were famous for their bond. The four mountainous men were no match for their sister, who didn’t even come to their shoulders. Padraig had never shared even a remote closeness to Duncan. They’d been rivals and adversaries their entire lives. When Padraig surpassed Duncan’s height, the rift between them became irreparable, as though Duncan blamed his younger brother for growing taller and broader than him. While neither had control over their height, Padraig spent far more hours training than Duncan, who took for granted his position as tánaiste. His inheritance was secure, and he believed himself a better fighter than he was, so he often skipped the hours in the lists that Padraig spent, preferring to bed women other than his wife.
Padraig’s musings ended when he realized Collette had caught sight of him gawking. He nodded and moved further down the path, but Cairren’s voice drew closer as he passed by a bush and tree that provided camouflage despite the red brick color of his plaid. Padraig ducked and spied through the leaves as Cairren hoisted herself onto the rock beside her mother. Her wet chemise clung to her, and it granted Padraig a spectacular view of full breasts and dark nipples. As she rang out her hair and lifted it off her neck, the transparent garment pulled tighter, and Padraig’s cock roared to life.
“Ma petite fille, we must return to the keep, so you can prepare for the ceremony. Slip into those trees and change back into your kirtle.” Collette nodded toward trees near where Padraig hid. He wondered if Collette suspected he lingered or if she meant privacy for Cairren. Before he could consider whether he should walk away, Cairren yanked her sodden chemise over her head. She stood there in the buff with a body more glorious than anything his imagination could divine. He’d bedded enough women to know they weren’t all created the same, but Cairren’s body surpassed even the ripest tavern wench. His feet seemed to have taken root as he remained frozen in place, fearing that any movement would alert Cairren to his presence. A sense of urgency to conduct the ceremony and begin the feast so he could take her to his chamber soon pulsed along with his straining rod.
Shame and disloyalty soon pushed desire out of the way. He was ashamed to spy on Cairren when she believed she had the benefit of privacy, and he felt disloyal to Myrna and ashamed for wanting Cairren with a physical hunger that surpassed any he’d experienced for Myrna. He closed his eyes as he tried to calm his racing heart and thoughts. He knew there would be an unavoidable bedding ceremony. As he’d lain in bed the night before, he’d considered Cairren’s suggestion that he just stay awa
y once they consummated the handfast. It would make the repudiation easier, especially since he wouldn’t risk siring any children. It eased his guilt for hurting Myrna by bedding another woman. But all of his good intentions evaporated as he watched Cairren. She was a siren, and he was a sailor willingly lured. Cairren didn’t even know the effect she had on him, but he feared she might grow manipulative when she realized she had the power to bring him to his knees. However, that thought didn’t sit right with him. Something about Cairren made him doubt she was the manipulative type.
Mayhap we can form a truce if we at least get along in the bedchamber. If Myrna isnae here to see, then mayhap bedding Cairren every night will make it easier for us to get along. If she’s satisfied, well…What the hell am I saying? I want to send Myrna off, so she doesnae ken how much I enjoy bedding another woman! How fickle and disloyal can I be?
But I will be sworn to Cairren for at least a year. She deserves some of ma loyalty. Having the woman I want, the one I intend to spend the rest of my life with after this debacle ends, living under the same roof as ma wife is a slight. Even I ken better. But the thought of nae seeing Myrna, nae talking to her even if I canna hold her, is excruciating. I may enjoy bedding Cairren, but entering the chamber every night that I’ve believed meant for Myrna with a woman who isnae Myrna dulls the appeal of even the most enticing woman I’ve ever seen. Padraig rubbed his forehead as the ache continued. He remained out of sight until the Kennedys passed through the postern gate. Then he returned to his chamber to prepare for the handfasting.
Chapter Eight
Padraig pinched the inside of his wrist to see if he was dreaming. A vision of angelic beauty floated toward him as he waited on the steps of the keep’s kirk. Cairren walked with grace and dignity through a crowd that looked more prepared to lob rotting vegetables at her than cheer her on. The blatant rudeness galled Padraig. Even if they didn’t agree with his marriage, their duty to their laird was to accept and respect his decision. Micheil accepted the king’s offer, and so it was as much by Laird Munro’s decree as King Robert’s that Padraig marry Cairren.
An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5) Page 6