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

by Celeste Barclay

  “I am jealous. And possessive and protective. I’m not giving you up, Ren. I will give up my family, but I won’t give you up.”

  “You shouldn’t have to choose.”

  “Maybe, but I have. You are my wife, and I love you.”

  Cairren stared into Padraig’s eyes that were such a deep brown they appeared nearly black. She remembered once wondering if their color reflected his soul; now she knew they didn’t. When meeting his gaze became too hard, she closed her eyes, but that only brought forth their most intimate memories. “You’ve said that twice.”

  “Said what?” Padraig tried to follow her thoughts.

  “You’ve said ‘I love you’ twice. I need to catch up. I love you, Padraig. It’s why I’ll let you go. I don’t want to because I love you, but I will because it’s what’s best.”

  “No, it bluidy well isn’t what’s best. You believe you can decide for me. Do you want me deciding for you?” His eyes narrowed. “I think I shall. You are taking me with you to Dunure because that’s what’s best for you.”

  Cairren was too overwhelmed after her conversations in the garden and Privy Council chamber. This was more than she had the strength for. She fell against Padraig’s chest as his arms came around her. “This is where I want to be for the rest of our lives. I don’t mean court,” she clarified. “I mean in your arms.”

  “And this is where you belong. It’s where I belong. Cairren, I don’t want to anywhere without you. Foulis is a keep. A stack of bricks I’ve lived in since I was born. Home is in your arms.”

  “When did you become so sentimental?” Cairren smiled.

  “Around the time I pulled my head out of the pile of shite I was rolling around in.”

  “Lovely,” Cairren chuckled. She slid her hand up Padraig’s chest until she could cup his jaw. “And I love you. There’s been so much hurt between us already. I don’t want to cause more. I don’t want you to resent me.”

  “There will never be aught more painful than living without you,” Padraig lifted her hand from his cheek and kissed each of her fingertips.

  “Where do we go from here?”

  “Our chamber.” Padraig chuckled when she playfully scowled. “Right now, you’re coming to our chamber where I intend to make love to you, wife. After that, we can decide if we’ll go to Dunure or if we’ll remain here.”

  Cairren squealed as Padraig swept her into his arms and walked to the door. She leaned sideways and pressed down on the door handle. She squealed again when Padraig pretended to drop her, but she realized he’d done it to make her cling to him. As he carried her through Stirling Castle to their chamber, she cared not that people watched, pointed, and whispered. As they undressed amid kisses, she was thankful her courses had ended, and she wondered if this might be the time that they actually conceived.

  Padraig carried her to the bed and eased her onto the mattress with a tenderness that made Cairren’s heart feel too large for her chest. He climbed onto the bed and straddled her legs. As his eyes swept over Cairren’s petite frame, she marveled at how different their bodies were yet how well they fit together. When her eyes landed on his cock, it twitched, and Padraig growled before pouncing.

  Their kisses grew more urgent with each swipe of their tongues. Padraig’s large palm covered Cairren’s breast as he kneaded the aching mound of flesh. He shifted to bring her breast to his mouth. He used the tip of his tongue to circle her nipple before flicking it, then drawing it into his mouth. Before Padraig touched her on their wedding night, she’d never imagined that a man suckling her nipples could be so erotic. Now her breasts ached for his attention. Cairren cupped them in offering, one that Padraig gladly accepted. She arched her back to bring them closer to Padraig’s mouth as he shifted back and forth between left and right. His fingers left a trail of fire as they brushed along her belly until they reached her slit.

  “This isn’t just coupling or me just bedding you, Ren. I want you to ken that I’ll never look at we do as just aught. Making love to you means more to me than I have words to express,” Padraig confessed.

  Cairren grasped his upper arms as she smiled at the love that shone in his eyes. She let her knees fall wide, and she lifted her hips. “Then show me, mo ghoal.” My love. Padraig had never heard words that made him feel more invincible than the endearment Cairren offered in Gaelic.

  "Tha gaol agam ort nas motha na tha tonnan aig a ’mhuir, mo chridhe,” Padraig whispered. From the brilliant smile he received, he knew Cairren understood that he’d said “I love you more than the sea has waves, my heart.” But then her smile turned nervous, and his heart melted. He guessed she was piecing together a reply.

  “Agus bidh gaol agam ort nas fhaide na a ’ghrian, a’ ghealach, agus na reultan a ’deàrrsadh.” Padraig’s heat overflowed with pride that his bonny Lowland bride made such an effort to speak his native tongue. His heart was brimming with the depth of emotion he felt as she told him, “and I shall love you longer than the sun, the moon, and the stars shine.”

  Padraig pressed his hips forward, easing his sword into Cairren’s tight sheath. He pulled her leg over his hip as he thrust, over and over, into her. Her mewls of need and desire encouraged him to drive into her harder with each surge until she screamed his name. But Padraig refused to end their lovemaking. He returned his mouth to her breast, tugging her nipple with his teeth as he ground his pelvis into hers. He felt the spasm begin again within Cairren’s core. She clung to him, certain she would float away on a cloud of pleasure. It was only as she climaxed a third time that Padraig granted himself the release he had struggled to control. He rolled them so that Cairren lay draped across his chest. Her long chestnut hair had come unbound and spread across her back and his ribs. One of Padraig’s hands stroked the silky strands as the other cupped her bottom. As they basked in the afterglow of their passion, the world beyond their bed had ceased to exist.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The fortnight the king offered Padraig passed faster than either Padraig or Cairren expected. She’d sent a missive to her parents giving them a sense of the most pressing matters without sharing the details. It snowed twice in the first three days they were at court, so Cairren pleaded that her parents not to make the journey to Stirling in the inclement weather. Padraig considered traveling to Dunure in the foul weather a risky enterprise, but he scowled and huffed when Cairren pointed out the alternative was to remain in Stirling. When the couple stood, holding hands, before King Robert at the end of the second week, the Bruce simply sighed and shook his head. He waved them away, chuckling as they rushed back to their own chamber. He knew the young couple’s destination and desire.

  How many of these young women have Elizabeth and I married off? My brother Edward and Elizabeth, Isabella and Dedric, then Maude and Kieran. Allyson—God bless that woman—and Ewan, Cairstine—and who would have ever guessed she would marry, I thought she wanted to be a nun—and Eoin. Thank the saints the Gordon twins are no longer bachelors. And now Cairren and Padraig. I wonder who shall be next. I’ll sort through that pile of missives another day.

  Padraig dismissed his guards to return home the morning after they arrived in Stirling, once he saw flurries dancing in the wind. There had been silent opposition, but Padraig refused to keep his men from their families for an entire winter. The mountain passes would become untraversable if too much snow accumulated, so it shocked him when he opened the bedchamber door and found Dougal and Matthew on the other side.

  “What’s happened?” Padraig demanded.

  “Who’s there, Padraig?” Cairren asked as she came to stand beside her husband. “Matthew? Dougal, what are you doing riding all the way here? Why isn’t your arm still in a sling?” Dougal offered her a guilty smile.

  Padraig bade the men enter, and Cairren built up the fire. The couple waited impatiently as the two warriors warmed themselves.

  “Padraig, ye tasked me with keeping ma ears and eyes open, and I did,” Dougal began. “Laird Urquhart sent men t
o claim Lady Wynda’s belongings. Duncan got into an argument with the men; nae surprising to anyone. He refused to allow them to enter the keep, and in the process of insulting them and Lady Wynda, he let it slip that he killed her.”

  “I knew I should have returned her belongings sooner.” Cairren lowered her eyes and shook her head. She felt guilty that she’d put the task off.

  “Aye and nay, ma lady,” Matthew picked up the story. “The men rode out without a word once they realized what he confessed. Many thought that was the end of it, but I kenned no mon—no laird—would allow another mon to murder his daughter and turn a blind eye. The Urquharts rallied the Mackenzies and let raids on villages along the borders with both clans. We didna ken which way to turn. Duncan rode out to where the three territories met, assuming his men would follow him to their deaths, and some did. Many fought with honor to protect our villagers, but nae Duncan.”

  “Padraig, yer brother’s dead,” Dougal said in a low tone. Both guards waited for a reaction from the couple, but Padraig and Cairren stood in stunned silence, looking at one another. “That’s nae all. Padraig, the laird is demanding ye come home now that ye’re his heir.”

  Padraig’s jaw hardened. “That won’t happen. Not as long as my father is laird. I won’t return without Lady Cairren, and I won’t take her back.”

  Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. “Aboot that. Yer father wants ye to return, so ye will convince the council to allow him to remain the laird. They’re trying to oust him in favor of ye.”

  “And he thinks I’ll return to defend him? The mon is barmy,” Padraig spat.

  “Aye, and we all ken it now too. When ye left, he raged for days,” Dougal explained. “The vile things he spewed shocked us all. The clan wasnae having his threats against ye and Lady Cairren. Tension grew as the clan saw the mon yer father really is. Then yer brother died. The mon isnae right in the head anymore. He walks around the keep talking as though Duncan is standing beside him. He keeps swearing vengeance against the Mackenzies and Urquharts, but when he isnae spewing rubbish, he’s in his cups. He willna be leading any raids, and Adam willna take men in the laird’s stead.”

  “The council is running the clan, but they arenae comfortable doing that for long when there’s an heir who’s more than capable to lead,” Matthew finished.

  “Matthew, I never wanted the lairdship. I dinna want it now,” Padraig’s brogue slipped out. The news of his family’s implosion troubled him, but he wouldn’t shift his priorities. The most important thing was keeping Cairren safe.

  “They figured ye’d say as much,” Dougal nodded. “The council sent us to make ye an offer.”

  “I amnae interested. I dinna want to hear it. Ye’ve made a lengthy trip in foul weather, and I appreciate it, but I amnae returning to Foulis,” Padraig insisted.

  “They’ll send yer mother back to Clan Rose,” Matthew blurted.

  “You get that from your cousin,” Cairren mused. When three blank male faces turned to her, she smiled. “The way you say things in a rush before someone can disagree. You get it from Meg.”

  “More like the lass got it from him,” Padraig quipped. “He’s quieter now that he has a wife.”

  “Humph,” Matthew scowled. “Either way, they’ll send yer mother back to her brother if ye and Lady Cairren return.”

  Padraig glanced at Cairren, then shook his head. “Nay. This is all too neat and tidy. One moment the clan canna be rid of Lady Cairren fast enough, and now they beg for her return. I dinna believe that. Mayhap they need me to return and ken I willna without Cairren. How do I ken they arenae lying to fool us?”

  “We wouldnae have come, Padraig,” Matthew persisted. “We watched over Lady Cairren even before ye assigned us the duty. We wouldnae risk her life if we didna believe it was right for her to come back.”

  “I trust ye both, but this doesnae sit right with me. I need to speak with Lady Cairren,” Padraig replied as he wrapped his arm around Cairren’s shoulders. “Go to the barracks, and I will find ye tomorrow. I willna decide aught now.”

  Cairren and Padraig stood together as the guardsmen trudged out of the room.

  “I like the way you speak,” Cairren smiled.

  “The way I speak?”

  “Aye. When you sound like a Highlander.”

  “Ye like ma burr, do ye?” Padraig nipped at Cairren’s neck.

  “Vera much,” Cairren giggled. Padraig pretended to nibble along her neck and ear, eliciting more giggles. It was a carefree sound that he was unaccustomed to hearing from Cairren. He liked it, but he feared returning to Foulis would mean the end of such laughter, and would signal the end of her carefree days. He didn’t doubt that she was up to the task of being the lady of the clan. He doubted his clan was up to the task of having her as their lady. He didn’t want to make a choice that would end her giggles.

  “Vera well, wee one. I shall sound the way God intended. If ye ask nicely,” Padraig teased. Cairren sucked in her lips as she glanced below Padraig’s waist. Her mischievous expression nearly made Padraig forget what they needed to discuss. “I’ll be the one asking for that later, cheeky.”

  Cairren grinned as Padraig led her to a chair where he sat, then pulled her into his lap. She tucked hair behind his ear and sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you. I never imagined any of this would happen. One moment, I’m running away to avoid being burned at the stake or drowned. The next, two of your most trusted warriors are practically begging for us to come back. I trust Matthew and Dougal, and I believe what they said. I just don’t ken if I trust what life will be like if I return.”

  “That’s ma fear. Adam and Martin still have many years ahead of them, but Arnold is auld. He seems spry, but he was auld before I was born. The rest of the council follow their lead for now, but I dinna ken what’ll happen once they’re gone.”

  “Wouldn’t you have been there long enough to have a voice in who takes their places?”

  “Aye. But I wonder how people will act without those three to be the voice of reason. I dinna ken if people would listen to me and younger council members as well as they do Adam, Martin, and Arnold.”

  “What if we return, and your father refuses to step down?” Cairren asked.

  “That’s what I’m wondering too. But regardless of what we choose, we must inform the king.” Padraig ran his hand over Cairren’s arm as she leaned against his chest. He wished they could stay as they were, and he wished the outside world would stop intruding.

  “Perhaps it would be better to do that first,” Cairren suggested. “If he decides for us, it won’t matter what we think.” Her anxiousness eased as she listened to the steady beat of Padraig’s heart.

  “If we returned, what would ye do?

  “I suppose I’d take over your mother’s duties. I would oversee the running of the keep.”

  “Nay. I meant what would ye do if ye were me?” Padraig clarified.

  Cairren was unprepared for him to ask her opinion on clan leadership matters. She knew her father often sought her mother’s opinion and advice; she just hadn’t anticipated Padraig doing the same. “I would make peace with the Urquharts by returning not only Wynda’s belongings, but anything remaining of her dowry that can be spared. Then I would offer to foster Laird Ross’s grandson, with the stipulation that if Myrna comes within sight of Foulis, you won’t hold me responsible for what I do. I would do these two first because they take the least amount of time and effort.”

  “That’s fair. What would ye do after that?” Cairren’s suggestions and how quickly she rattled them off intrigued Padraig.

  “I—me, not you—I would reassure Laird Sutherland that I’m well and happy that you and I have resolved what stood between us. Then I would—this time I mean you—I would trade our wool for their grain. The raids before I arrived destroyed much of the harvest. I’d offer the trade as a step toward forming an alliance with them. An alliance with the Sutherlands will keep the Mackenzies from being a menace.”


  Cairren watched Padraig as he listened to her suggestions. She was unsure whether he would appreciate her ideas, but he nodded his head while she spoke, encouraging her to continue.

  “You’ll have to survey the damage from the raids,” Cairren continued. “For now, I would relocate villages that lie too close to the boundary. Bring them further onto Munro territory, but double the patrols. The boundaries are obviously too easy for the Mackenzies to reach, but too far for us to protect easily. It doesn’t matter how much farmland is available near the boundary—or how rich the soil is—if there’s no one alive to work it or if the crops and homesteads are constantly destroyed.”

  “I’d like to nominate ye for laird,” Padraig teased.

  “Those are just ideas,” Cairren shrugged.

  “Dinna do that, Ren.” Padraig eased Cairren away from his chest. “Dinna make yer ideas sound less important because they came from ye. It’s the opposite. The suggestions are more valuable to me because they’re yers. I trust ye.”

  Cairren smiled and nodded before easing back against Padraig’s chest. “When should we seek another audience?”

  “Regrettably, sooner rather than later. If we’re to travel into the Highlands, we must leave within the next day, two days at the most. I fear we’re going to struggle to get through the mountains.”

  “Aye then, let’s make our way back to the Privy Council chamber and find our place in line,” Cairren grumbled, and Padraig laughed. He wasn’t eager to leave the privacy of their chamber to mill about with frustrated and bored courtiers and petitioners.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  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.