Cairren dropped her plaid from her shoulders and ran to Catriona and the bairn. She took the baby boy from Catriona, who cried silent sobs. Cairren cradled the infant in her arms and raised him near her ear, so she could listen to his wheezing breath. She crooned to him as she kept checking on the bucket hanging over the fire.
“What happened?” She asked the room, not taking her eyes off the baby as his face grew a deeper shade of purple, and his breaths drew further apart.
“We dinna ken. One minute he was sleeping in ma arms,” Elspeth explained. “The next he was gagging and coughing. It was only another moment before he was gasping. Matthew went for ye straight away.”
“You did the right thing.” Cairren forced a smile for the terrified parents, but she wasn’t feeling at all confident. When the water hissed, she asked for the bucket to be placed on the floor. She sat down with a leg on each side and told Elspeth to cover her, the baby, and the bucket with the sheet. It was only seconds before she was dripping with sweat, but she knew the baby needed the steam to loosen whatever was in his lungs. She remained under the sheet, singing a French lullaby to the babe until his breathing deepened and the wheezing ceased. She ripped the sheet from over them and struggled to her feet. Padraig helped her, but had she not had the baby in her arms, she would have pulled away. “Open the shutters.”
Cairren stood before the open window as the cool night breeze streamed in. She held the infant away from her, so he could inhale a few lungfuls of crisp late autumn air. Then she turned him over on his belly, supporting his body and head with her forearm and hand before she thumped his back. The newborn coughed and spluttered, but this time clear fluid spewed forth with flecks of something dark. Cairren recognized it and knew the newborn would likely survive. She repeated the process of holding him before the window, then striking his back until she was confident there was nothing left in the tiny lungs. She swaddled the infant and carried him back to Catriona. “Let him suckle, but be careful that he doesn’t guzzle too much. Stop to burp him frequently.”
Catriona nodded, her tear-stained face showing her appreciation when she was too emotional to speak. Cairren gave her a gentle hug before nodding to Elspeth and Matthew. She picked up her Kennedy plaid from where someone hung it on the back of the chair and walked to the door where she looked back but mother, father, and grandmother were cooing over the infant. She walked out of the croft without sparing Padraig a glance. She’d been aware of his presence the entire time, but she’d been too focused on the baby to care what he did or where he went. Now he walked in silence by her side. Before they reached the keep, Cairren stopped and turned to him.
“You promised days ago that she would leave. She’s still here. You’ve made and broken that promise more than once already. You believed her and accused me. You were so certain I would betray you, but I have done naught to ever make you doubt my honor. I am so hurt by you right now that I don’t know if I’ll ever get past this. I can’t keep doing this, Padraig. I can’t share your bed every night only to have you turn on me when a woman who can’t even be faithful to you claims I’m the harlot.” Cairren snapped her mouth shut. She hadn’t intended to say anything about Myrna, but it slid out. She was too overwrought to think straight.
“What did you say?” Padraig glowered at her. “Now who’s lobbing accusations to be spiteful?”
“They’re not accusations when they’re true. But honestly, Padraig, believe me or don’t, I simply don’t care to try anymore.”
“You’re exhausted and don’t know what you’re saying. A bath and a good night’s sleep, and you will feel much improved.”
“I don’t doubt that I will, but I am still through with you. I’m your wife, so I have no choice but to accept your choices, but I want you to stay away from me.” Cairren didn’t wait for Padraig to respond before she made her way up the stairs to the keep then to her chamber, where she fell on the bed without undressing or even taking off her boots. She slept through the night and most of the next day.
Padraig entered the Great Hall, but neither Duncan nor Myrna were in sight. His parents sat at the dais, the evening meal finished. He was in no mood to talk to either of his parents and tried to make his way stealthily to the stairs, but he wasn’t to be so fortunate.
“We hear your little bride has disgraced you yet again. Which guard was it? Henry?”
“My wife made me exceptionally proud today. She saved a mother and bairn’s life. Saved the bairn twice, actually.” Padraig stood tall and made sure his voice carried.
“That’s not what we heard,” Mary sniffed.
“And who did you hear it from? Myrna? I was just with Cairren at Catriona and Matthew’s croft. I watched with my own eyes as Cairren saved that bairn when it was barely breathing. Matthew told me what she did earlier today to save Catriona. She wasn’t with Henry. She ordered him to ride out and get Matthew because she feared he wouldn’t see his wife before she died. I can easily imagine why Myrna said what she did, and I ken why you believed her. I’m tired of it. I will take my wife and leave Foulis if this continues. I will not continue to subject her to this hatred.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Micheil bellowed as he slammed his hand on the table.
“Wouldn’t I, Father? Cairren is the oldest child with no brothers. I would be within my rights to seek the lairdship after Innes passes. I could take her home and serve as his tánaiste until the time comes.”
“You would choose that—that—ugh—over us?” Mary spluttered.
“Yes.” Padraig realized he was telling the truth. He ignored his parents and went upstairs. He looked down the passageway to his door but couldn’t bring himself to enter it alone. He made his way to Cairren’s chamber and knocked softly. When she didn’t answer, he opened the door a crack. He could see she was already fast asleep, so he slipped into the chamber. He eased her boots off and covered her with her Kennedy plaid. It hadn’t escaped his attention that she’d arrived back to the Great Hall in her Munro plaid before they argued, then chosen her Kennedy plaid before running to tend the infant. He stepped away from the bed but wasn’t ready to leave, so he moved to the chair beside the table. In the dim light from the banked fire, he noticed writing utensils and parchment laid out. He could see the parchment was blank, and he wondered who Cairren intended to write to. He wondered if it was her parents. He wondered if he would have the Kennedys returning to lob off his head. He turned back to watch Cairren sleep before he dozed off, too.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cairren woke to the sound of soft snores. As she blinked her eyes open, she realized that it was past dusk, and she must have slept the entire day away. She recognized the snores before she looked to find Padraig seated in a chair with his head slumped against his chest. She rubbed her eyes and sat up; the bed creaking. Padraig jerked awake as his eyes flew open and looked for her.
“Have you been here all day?” Cairren asked.
“Aye. I suppose I was tired too, though I wasn’t asleep the entire time.”
“What were you doing?” Cairren remembered she’d left the parchment, quill, and ink on the table beside Padraig. She was relieved she hadn’t even addressed the missive yet, but it made her wonder if Padraig was even more suspicious of something she hadn’t done. Yet.
“I was watching you sleep. You were so fatigued, and you worried me when you didn’t rise by midmorning. I feared you might fall ill.”
Cairren heard sincerity in Padraig’s voice, but while she appreciated it, she didn’t want to hear it. She wanted him out of her chamber. “As you can see, I was just tired. Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine on my own.”
Padraig didn’t miss the hard edge to her voice, and he knew he deserved it, but he wasn’t ready to abandon hope. “Myrna left this morning.”
“That’s nice,” Cairren nodded and laid back down. She didn’t trust herself to keep her cool facade.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Padraig rose and stepped to the foot of
the bed. Cairren sighed and sat up again.
“You know it is. But I told you last night, I’m through trying. Do as you please, Padraig. Have her go, have her stay. I just don’t care anymore.”
“I don’t believe that, Cairren. Not for a moment. We both know something special has developed between us.”
“Yes. We’re good in bed together. But that doesn’t change the fact that you love Myrna, and you will always choose her before you do me. And I could even live with that if you both didn’t have to humiliate me in the process. I will live here and be this clan’s healer and midwife to those who will accept my help. The rest of the time, I will continue to keep to myself.”
“But that’s not what either of us really wants,” Padraig argued.
Cairren’s temper was frayed to the point where it snapped. “How dare you presume to know what I want? You don’t give a bluidy damn aboot what I want. If you did, we wouldn’t be in this mess. You see only what suits you, and more often than not, it’s me as a disappointment and failure. I don’t deserve it, but I suppose it’s my lot in life. But it doesn’t mean I have to subject myself to it unnecessarily. Get out.”
“No.”
“Very well, I will leave.” Cairren made to stand up, but her legs gave out and the room spun. Padraig lunged forward and caught her.
“You haven’t had aught to eat or drink in over a day. Let me have a tray sent up. Cairren?” Padraig felt Cairren’s body tremble as the tears sounded as though they were wrenched from her soul. He swept her into his arms before sitting on the bed as she sobbed. She curled tight into his arms as she continued to cry. She’d fought for as long as she could, but despair pushed away the last of her control and strength. She cried for all the hurtful things Padraig had said and done since they met. She’d cried almost every day when she went for her walks or for a ride, but it had been homesickness that drove those tears and hurt from what the clan members said and did. This time it was pure grief for the constant upheaval that went along with Padraig being part of her life. She both loved and hated him, and she couldn’t reconcile the two emotions, each fighting for dominance.
Padraig held Cairren until she cried herself back to sleep, his misery bringing him to tears once he laid her on the bed. He had clung to a love for the woman he believed he deserved and who he’d intended to marry even though he barely recognized the woman now. He fought against the love he felt for the woman who had been honest, kind, and self-sacrificing since the moment he met her, and yet he hurt her at every turn. As he observed Cairren sleeping again, he realized he hadn’t thought of her skin color in so long he couldn’t remember the last time he had. He’d automatically deemed her unfit to be his wife, and yet she stood faithfully beside him no matter how many times he erred. He considered Myrna’s departure that morning. He’d given her half an hour’s notice to pack and be on her horse. She’d blubbered and begged, but he’d been unmoved by her for the first time. Not even a hint of sympathy existed for her. She’d lied unrepentantly, claiming she thought she was certain of what she saw, and that she loved Padraig too much not to protect him from what she believed was the truth. He’d known she was lying. Her desperation was clear on her face, but he felt no remorse. In her attempt to hold him close, she’d only pushed him further away.
But now, as he continued to watch the silent rise and fall of Cairren’s chest, he realized he felt betrayed by Myrna just as Cairren felt betrayed by him. It was a vicious awakening to what Cairren had been trying to point out all along. It was just as well that Myrna left. He preferred to keep the memories he had of them together during happier times. She would always have a place in his heart.
When Cairren awoke the second time, it was morning, and her chamber was empty save her. She climbed out of bed as a knock sounded at her door. She padded across the chilly floor and opened the door to a line of servants with a tub and hot water, brought at Padraig’s command. When she finished, she made her way to Wynda’s chamber. She’d avoided the room since her friend’s death, but she knew no one else intended to sort through her belongings, and she suspected there were items Wynda would want returned to her clan. As she opened the lid of Wynda’s chest, Myrna and Duncan’s conversation in the woods came back to her. She recalled how they said Wynda learned of their affair because she intercepted a missive meant for Duncan from Myrna. She’d also heard that Wynda caught them together more than once. More memories floated to Cairren as she recalled what she’d heard Myrna telling her maid the three times she overheard them. Now she knew Myrna hadn’t been speaking about Padraig, but rather Duncan. That realization eased the pain in her chest a smidge now that she was certain Padraig hadn’t been unfaithful to her. He’d denied it, but she’d been just as ready to believe the worst about him as he had been about her two nights earlier. It made her question her right to be so offended and irascible about Padraig’s accusation.
Cairren turned her attention back to Wynda’s belongings. She lifted out a stack of pristine baby clothes, and she closed her eyes as she thought about the babes Wynda lost, about the babe who died with her. She put them aside before reaching for the Urquhart plaid that lay neatly folded. As Cairren lifted it, her brow furrowed as something shifted within the wool. A stack of missives fell into her lap as she opened the plaid. At first, she assumed they were from her family, but she recalled Wynda was illiterate, and Duncan’s name caught her eye. As she turned each over, either the word “Duncan” or a single “D” was inked on the smooth side. It made no sense to Cairren why Wynda would have Duncan’s personal correspondence until a sick feeling settled in her belly. She knew what these were, even if she didn’t know how Wynda came by them. She turned one over and opened it.
My Dearest Love,
I received your missive and insisted the messenger wait until I write this to you. It feels like an age since we’ve seen each other, even if it was only a sennight ago. One moment I can still feel your touch and the next, I feel empty and needy. Needy for what only you can give me. I will meet you in our spot tomorrow, just as you requested. I cannot wait for you to be inside me once more.
Your Loving M
Cairren couldn’t believe how brazen Myrna was to send such a letter to Duncan. It took little imagination to know that that the only educated woman whose name began with M and who was familiar with Clan Munro was Myrna. As Cairren looked at the stack of folded vellum, she wondered why Wynda kept them since she couldn’t read. Cairren was certain Wynda would never use them to blackmail either Duncan or Myrna, so she could only believe she intended to share them with someone else one day. Would she have shown these to Padraig? Is that why she kept them? Would she want me to share them, or should I burn them? Would it even do me any good to show him? She’s gone now. Does it matter anymore?
Cairren felt no remorse reading more of the letters. If Duncan hadn’t wanted to risk them being found, he should have burned them. They were among Wynda’s possessions, and no one else in the laird’s family had taken an interest in taking care of Wynda’s personal effects. One in particular caught her attention.
My Dearest Love,
Padraig continues to refuse to do more than kiss me. I fear I won’t be able to fool him into thinking the bairn is his if he won’t relent. I won’t be able to stop him marrying that woman the king is sending, and I won’t have an explanation for why I’m carrying. If he doesn’t bed me before she arrives, I fear I shall have to drink the primrose like last time. He steadfastly insists that we must wait until our wedding night, but I shall continue to chip away at his honor. He and I must marry before it’s too late, and as you ken, this is the only way for us to be together. No one will ever know whether it’s his bairn or yours that I carry.
Your Loving M
Cairren sat in shock as she absorbed what she read. Duncan had gotten Myrna with child more than once, and she’d ended the pregnancy each time when she couldn’t convince Padraig to couple with her. Cairren couldn’t help but wonder just how many times that had been ov
er the course of the two years they courted. She tucked the missives in the loose folds of her arisaid until she made it to her chamber and hid them in the false bottom of her own chest. She felt compelled to inform Padraig of what she discovered between the missives and what she’d seen. He deserved to know what had been happening beneath his nose, but Cairren hesitated.
She’s gone now. Does it really matter? It won’t make Padraig feel any better to ken they played him for a fool. It might make me feel vindicated, but it will only hurt him. But with Wynda gone, Duncan will need to remarry. What if it’s Myrna? Argh! But does that matter either? If Micheil agrees, and that’s what Duncan wants, then it’ll irrelevant whether Padraig kens. Do I tell him to prepare him for that because I suspect that’s exactly what will happen?
Cairren didn’t know what to do as she sat on her bed and looked at the door. She wondered why it even mattered to her. If she didn’t want Padraig, what was the point in fighting for him to move on from Myrna?
Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life living in the shadow of that woman’s ghost. Or worse, living one floor above her for the rest of my life. What will I do if she becomes Lady Munro? She’ll be worse than Mary. At least Mary leaves me mostly alone now. Bluidy hell. What do I do now?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cairren picked up her basket of medicinals and left her chamber, leaving her troubling thoughts in her chamber. She found Peter, her guard for that day, and went into the village. She checked on Catriona and Liam along with Meg and her children. Peter informed her that word had spread that she saved Catriona and her baby’s life. He looked over his shoulder before telling her that Father Mitchell attempted to say it was witchcraft that she’d used, but Matthew had threatened to beat the priest if he lied again. Matthew swore it was a miracle and hard work. Cairren noticed warmer smiles from people who had always scowled at her. She heard fewer insults than normal, but she wasn’t willing to get her hopes up. As they returned to the bailey, a roar reverberated against the walls. Cairren turned toward the lists where she saw men running toward something happening in the middle of the field.
An Enemy at the Highland Court: An Enemies to Lovers Highlander Romance (The Highland Ladies Book 5) Page 21