An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5)

by Celeste Barclay

  “Nay.” She was unprepared for the man’s curt response.

  “I beg your pardon. Perhaps I was unclear. I’d like two guards to accompany me while I’m away from the keep.”

  “And perhaps ye’re too daft to understand me. I said nay.”

  “You’re not entitled to tell me no. I am not asking.”

  “If Padraig cared enough to have ye guarded, he would have assigned ye a detail already. Since he hasnae, ye’re obviously of nay more worth to him than ye are anyone else. If ye want to leave, then leave. But no mon will escort ye.” The guard slammed the door shut in Cairren’s face, leaving her standing stunned outside the hut. She looked around when she heard laughter and realized there had been an audience to her humiliation. She turned toward the gate and walked out.

  She considered walking until she couldn’t see Foulis anymore and then continuing to walk beyond that. Instead, she walked around the bailey wall and out to the loch. It was a warm day even though it was already the middle of October. She didn’t have a hat to shield her face from the sun, and she worried for a moment about her skin darkening, but she figured that ship had already sailed and sunk. She slipped her shoes off and rolled down her stockings before dipping her toes into the cool water. She found a rock to sit upon in the shade, and she spent the rest of the afternoon watching the clouds pass overhead fish splashing as they came up for air, and listening to the birds chatter. She heard a particularly persistent chatter and smiled when she recognized the sound of a wren. Alone together, Padraig rarely called her anything but Ren. She’d grown used to it, and she treasured how she felt when he used the name that they only shared between them.

  When the sun shifted and began to set, Cairren sighed and accepted that she needed to return to the keep if she wanted to make it to her chamber before the Great Hall filled with people. She entered the bailey through the postern gate near the gardens. Two voices she would know anywhere drifted to her.

  “I know, my love. It pains me that the day we were to marry draws closer, and it will be naught but disappointment and pain,” Padraig cooed. “I love you, and I wish I could ease your pain.” Cairren forced herself not to make a mocking face as she continued to walk past the garden.

  “You could ease it, but you refuse,” Myrna whined.

  “Shh, my love.”

  “She’s just so horrid. She may have finally found the decency to remain hidden, but I know she’s here. I know she’s keeping you from me. I wish she’d never come,” Myrna moaned.

  “I wish the same, Myrna.” Padraig agreed. Cairren came even with where they stood and watched as Myrna drew Padraig in for a kiss, and he did little to resist. Cairren watched, knowing she wasn’t the only one who saw or heard them.

  “You’re not the only two who wished that,” she announced. Padraig jerked away from Myrna and spun around. Horror washed over him as he took in Cairren’s expression. It was blank, and he knew what that meant. He hadn’t even been thinking about what he was saying. He’d just been agreeing with Myrna because he didn’t want her crying again like she had been earlier. It broke his heart to see Myrna so upset, and he did whatever he could to placate her, which included saying things without thought.

  Cairren turned away and made to continue walking, but Padraig called out to her. Cairren pretended not to hear him, but the second time, his voice was closer. She turned to watch him approach.

  “Ren—”

  “Don’t. You have no right to call me that. You don’t want me here. You definitely don’t need me here.” Cairren looked away, but then glared at Padraig. “I held out a glimmer of hope that you were honorable. I know I said you could do as you please with her, but I thought maybe, just maybe, that the honor you claimed would keep you from being unfaithful would be real. Clearly it’s not. Believe me, you are a far greater disappointment to me than I ever was to you. You just don’t like the way I look. I don’t like who you are.”

  Padraig stood speechless, watching Cairren walk away. He barely noticed when Myrna approached until she pulled his arm around her. “What did that hideous creature have to say?”

  “Hmm?” Padraig continued to watch Cairren as she entered the keep. He remembered what Myrna asked, but rather than answer, he realized that Myrna hadn’t been able to hear his exchange with Cairren. Unlike Myrna and him, who never considered who was listening or watching, Cairren hadn’t broadcasted her disgust for all and sundry to hear.

  That night, Padraig didn’t consider going to Cairren’s chamber. He knew she would never let him in, and he doubted she would even open the door to listen to an apology. He knew he was the spoiled child she and her father called him. He wanted both of his toys, and he would have apologized just to get what he wanted. He couldn’t recall ever being so disgusted with himself as he had been since Cairren arrived. He wanted to blame her, but still had a thimbleful of honor and could accept the root of his problems lay at his feet.

  Cairren was desperate to escape the keep again. She’d spent the morning with Wynda, but she decided she would go for a ride. She’d twice more, unsuccessfully, to request that guards escort her, but the responses grew cruder each time. She abandoned asking and left the bailey alone. She spoke to few people and avoided lingering anywhere overlong. She’d discovered an apple orchard, so she’d stored away several in her chamber since she was often hungry. She’d tried requesting trays several times since she retreated to her chamber, but none ever arrived. She scavenged or relied on Wynda to bring her food. She considered abandoning her self-imposed imprisonment, but she’d had a run in with Duncan one evening as she headed toward the Great Hall for the meal. He’d caught her on the landing as she made her way from the third floor to the second. He’d pinned her against the wall and tried to grope her, but she’d twisted away and ran down the stairs. His mocking laughter followed her as she hid in a passageway until she felt it was safe to return to her chamber.

  As she slipped from her chamber with an apple in each hand, Cairren eased down the stairs but froze in the shadows when she heard Myrna on the floor below. Cairren peeked and recognized she was with her maid.

  “I never knew a mon could do such things with his tongue until he did it. I enjoy it more each time. He swears I taste finer than the most extravagant wine. I’m certain I taste better than that bitch he married.” Myrna’s words weren’t hushed. She wasn’t trying to keep what she said a secret. Cairren wondered if Myrna was speaking for her benefit, but Cairren knew there was no way Myrna could know she was standing on the stairs above them. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids as she listened to Myrna continue to describe her tryst with Padraig. “The first time I learned how a mon enters a woman, I couldn’t believe anyone would enjoy something so crude. But I swear, his cock is enough to make me steal the crown jewels.” The two women giggled as they disappeared into Myrna’s chamber. Cairren rested her head against the wall as tears streamed down her cheeks. She abandoned her plan for a ride and returned to her chamber.

  Over the next month, Padraig saw Cairren five times, and it was always the back of her head. He discovered Wynda learned of the scene at the garden, not because Cairren told her, but because it was the juiciest piece of gossip for weeks. What Cairren hadn’t known was it was the first and only time he’d kissed Myrna since he married Cairren. He’d battled with his desire to do so, but he’d mustered more restraint with Myrna than he ever did with Cairren. But the moment Myrna’s lips touched his and familiarity flooded him, he gave into the temptation. The first moments had been divine, as though he was sipping water for the first time after wandering a desert for years. But it left a sour feeling in his heart as the kiss drew on. As he came to his senses and realized it wasn’t Cairren but Myrna he kissed, the giddiness evaporated. Then there was Cairren’s voice, echoing the wish that she’d never come to Foulis. He hadn’t considered what he said until she said the three of them wished the same thing.

  It worried him when one morning Wynda approached him and shared that Cairren hadn
’t left her chamber once in three days. He offered to check on her, but Wynda adamantly shook her head. She reassured him that Cairren was well, but Wynda still felt he should know. Padraig thanked her but went to Cairren’s chamber, anyway. He knocked, but she never answered. When he pressed his ear to her door, he didn’t hear any movement. He wondered if she’d changed her mind.

  Cairren heard Padraig outside her door, but she refused to open it. She’d been hiding for days after separate near encounters with both Duncan and Myrna. Three days earlier, Cairren returned from a walk and cut through the garden to enter the keep through a side passageway. She’d spotted Duncan approaching, and the memory of being pinned against the wall flooded back. She knew he’d seen her because he leered and licked his lips. She’d passed him in a passageway one other time since he’d pinned against the wall, and he’d whispered lewd comments about what he could do with his hand and her quim. She darted through the door and into the dark passageway. She knew there were storage rooms along the corridor, so she ducked into one and left the door open a crack. Rather than spy Duncan following her, she recognized Myrna and her maid walking toward where she hid.

  “What did he do next?” Myrna’s maid giggled.

  “He took me against the wall!” Myrna squealed. “He couldn’t wait for us to get to his bed. He tossed my skirts out of the way, lifted me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist. Then he was—ugh. It was better than ever before.”

  Cairren covered her mouth with her hand, thinking she would be ill. She couldn’t believe her misfortune when the women stopped just outside the door behind which Cairren hid.

  “When will you meet him next, ma lady?”

  “Tonight, of course. It’s not like he bothers with his wife. Why would he when he’s bedding me?”

  Cairren waited several minutes after the passageway grew silent before she rushed back to her chamber. She decided she needed to take a fresh approach. Rather than hiding in her chamber most of the day and trying to sneak out of the keep between meals, she would leave before the morning meal and not return until after the evening meal. She never walked more than a few miles from the keep, but she spent her days reading and gathering flowers she gave to Wynda. She fished, but tossed them back. She never dared swim in case someone stumbled upon her, but she sat with her feet in the loch for hours until her toes were so pruned, she wondered if they would ever return to normal. She took bread and cheese with her and often picked wild berries. Collette had taught her daughters from a young age which were safe, which were dangerous, and which to avoid if she thought she might confuse one for another. The days were long and lonely, but she avoided overhearing things that sent pain through her chest, and she avoided being trapped. She felt safer roaming the open countryside than she did within the bailey walls.

  Chapter Eighteen

  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 P
adraig.” 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.