A Wallflower at the Highland Court: A Slow Burn Highlander Romance Read online

  A Wallflower at the Highland Court

  A Slow Burn Highlander Romance

  Celeste Barclay

  A Wallflower at the Highland Court Copyright © 2020 by Celeste Barclay. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Lisa Messegee, The Write Designer

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Celeste Barclay

  Visit my website at www.celestebarclay.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: March 2020

  Celeste Barclay

  ISBN-13 ooo-0-0000000-1-2

  To all the wallflowers who struggled to bloom or are waiting to bloom, your season shall come.

  Happy reading, y'all,

  Celeste

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  A Rogue at the Highland Court, The Highland Ladies Book Three

  Thank you for reading A Wallflower at the Highland Court

  The Highland Ladies

  The Clan Sinclair

  Viking Glory

  Chapter One

  The din of music and loud conversation–along with the pervasive odor of too many unwashed or over-perfumed bodies crowded into Stirling Castle’s Great Hall–gave Maude Sutherland a pounding headache. As she observed the dancers from her position at the side of the chamber, part of her envied the other ladies-in-waiting who twirled with ease and confidence, but mostly she wished for nothing more than the blessed silence of her chamber. While Maude propped up the wall, she spied her younger sister, Blair, who moved through the country reel with what must have been her seventh partner that evening. Though she was only an observer, sweat trickled down Maude’s back and between her breasts. A warm snap—unseasonable for spring in the Highlands— had the doors to the terraces wide open. This should have been enough to ease Maude’s discomfort, but the breeze did little to offset how her thick brown hair trapped the heat on her head and neck. Unlike most maidens, Maude wore her hair up almost every waking moment. She possessed a massive amount of thick, coarse, mousey brown hair that was unruly even on the best of days. By evening the weight of the hair, regardless of whether it was up or down, pulled on her neck and contributed to her headache. She would have loved nothing more than to cut it all off and wear it short like her father, Laird Hamish Sutherland, or her brother, Lachlan. She envied them the freedom to wear their hair however they wanted.

  A crimson gown floated in Maude’s periphery, so she turned to watch her closest friend, Arabella Johnstone. She and Arabella were as different as chalk and cheese but had somehow struck up a close friendship. Where Arabella’s hair glowed in the candlelight, Maude accepted her hair was dull. Where Arabella’s face looked like an artist’s masterpiece, Maude was aware she was plain. Where Arabella was petite and lean through her hips and legs, Maude considered herself far too broad across the beam. As she grew into womanhood, her frame filled out, and while she had a bust most women would envy, her hips and legs were proportionate. Whenever Arabella or Blair glided across the dance floor, she recalled the many adjectives her brother and his friends had come up with for her when they were younger. “Sodgy,” “bamsey,” “bowzy,” “jostly,” “podg,” and “flobbed up” were the ones that always came to mind. Her brother had since repented for the unkind and merciless teasing. Lachlan noticed that the more he and his friends teased Maude, the less she ate. On the day she collapsed and nearly fell down the stairs leading to the family chambers, he was the one to catch her and carry her to her chamber. In her hazy state, she confessed to have only eaten dried fruit and bannocks the previous three days in hopes of slimming. Lachlan never said an unkind word to his sister again and thereafter became fiercely protective of her, fighting more than one friend when they failed to cease teasing her.

  Maude’s attention snapped back to the dancers as the song concluded and Arabella made her way to Maude’s side. “I caught the Gordon twins glancing at you while they danced with Blair and Cairstine Grant,” Arabella murmured.

  “Aye, glancing at ma bust nae ma face.” Maude grimaced as her brogue slipped out. She made a conscious effort not to allow her Highland burr to flavor her accent. At court, where Lowlanders were dominant, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Despite Stirling straddling the border between the Highlands and Lowlands and King Robert the Bruce’s affinity and dependence on the Highland clans, Highlanders were considered an oddity at court. “I mean, they were only interested in what was below my chin. My maid cinched this gown far too tight this eve. I can barely breathe, let alone move.”

  Arabella gave Maude a measured stare, but chose not to comment. Arabella was aware of how self-conscious Maude was about her appearance. While she, Arabella, frequently reminded Maude of how beautiful she thought her friend was, it did little to counterbalance the snide comments they both heard. Arabella secretly wished she was as endowed as Maude, but she was aware most of the other ladies-in-waiting didn’t share that sentiment. On more than one occasion, Arabella overhead people wondering how Maude became Arabella’s friend. It broke her heart to hear the disparaging comments. She knew why she was friends with Maude: she was the most kindhearted and generous person Arabella knew. Maude smiled at her friend as she passed a mug of ale to Arabella and took a swig from her own.

  “How much longer do you think until the queen retires?” Maude asked behind her mug.

  “I have no idea, but it can’t be soon enough. I’ve had my toes trod on at least thrice, and Laird Macintosh’s clammy hands have left my gown damp. It wouldn’t surprise me if he left greasy marks on the back.” Arabella twisted as though she might spy the back of her gown.

  “He did seem to be in a bit of a lather.”

  “You’re too kind, Maude. His sweat threatened to drip from his face to my chest. I don’t know that I could’ve hidden my revulsion if that happened.”

  “Aye, you would’ve. Your mother drilled manners into you far too deeply. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t want to retch,” Maude’s sly smile morphed into a full grin until she remembered people could see the small gap between her top teeth and the tiny overlap of her bottom two teeth. For that reason, it was a rare occasion that she smiled with her mouth open.

  “Come dance. Don’t leave me alone out there,” Arabella pleaded.

  Maude shrank back against the wall, wishing to melt into it. She was an acc
omplished dancer, but she’d been embarrassed too many times when men shifted to avoid partnering with her. She didn’t consider herself overweight, but she looked it compared to the other young women. Lachlan was the only man who regularly partnered with her, but he was back at Sutherland. She wished for the umpteenth time she could be home, too.

  “Don’t look at though you’re going to the gallows,” Arabella quipped.

  “I told you, my gown is far too tight.”

  “Then let’s step onto the terrace. I’ll loosen it for you.”

  “Why are you so insistent?” Maude kept her smile in place even though her stamina for the evening withered.

  “Because I want you to have fun. I want you to see there are plenty of men looking at you and wishing they were dancing with you.”

  “So they can peer down my gown, but the moment they touch me, they realize I’m a pudding. Leave off, Bella. Please.”

  There was a long pause before Arabella nodded. There wasn’t a chance to say more before a man requested the next dance with Arabella. She looked over her shoulder as her new partner led her toward the other dancers. Maude nodded her head and continued to smile. Once Arabella was out of sight, Maude slipped onto the terrace. She loved Arabella as much as she did Blair, but there were times when it was difficult not to be jealous.

  Even our names tell how different we are. Arabella means “given in prayer,” while mine means “powerful battler.” Hers even has the word beautiful in it, while mine is as dowdy as I am. We both fit our monikers.

  Maude slipped into the shadows as she welcomed the cool air on her face and neck. While she now ate proper meals, this evening had been difficult with her lacings digging into her flesh. She hadn’t lied; her maid had pulled the ribbons snug. While the young woman only tried to help, Maude was certain she looked like a sack tied in the middle rather than lithe and shapely. When the air shifted from refreshing to chilly, Maude realized she needed to return to the Great Hall. It was still early spring, and the temperature would continue to fall as the night grew late. She walked back to the open doors but halted when she caught her name being whispered by another lady-in-waiting.

  “Have you seen how ridiculous she looks standing next to Arabella? It’s like a dove and a sow became friends,” Laurel Ross tittered. Maude hung back and listened as her heart sank.

  “Arabella claims she has a big heart,” Cairstine Grant mused. “She certainly has a big chest.”

  “Obscene is more like it,” Laurel sniped. “She looks little better than a dairy cow with those tits. She’s more suited for a tavern than a castle. If I didn’t know who her parents were, I’d wonder who let her in off the street.”

  “Laurel, that’s a bit harsh. She’s no slattern.” Madeline MacLeod’s words were censuring, but her tone barely hid her laugh. “Men would have to want her first.”

  The three women dissolved into giggles as Maude swallowed the tears that threatened to burst free.

  Chapter Two

  Kieran MacLeod crept onto the terrace, watching as Lady Bevan slipped through a door further down the way. Their tryst had been quick and vigorous, as it was the only way for him not to freeze his cods. Now it was his sister’s voice that made him freeze. He hadn’t caught what the young woman before her said, only the sound of a voice, but Madeline’s words rang clear. He clenched his jaw as his sister and her friends continued disparaging another lady-in-waiting.

  “Maude’s better suited to be a farmer’s wife than a laird’s wife. She’s a bit brawny to be a lady,” Madeline continued. “What laird will want hers to be the face that greets his guests. They’ll think he sent a servant. And she can barely say more than five words at once without getting uncomfortable.”

  If this is who Maude has to talk to, I don’t blame her. My sister is horrid. I’ve told her to mind what she says at court. She never knows who might be listening.

  As if to prove his point, something moved in the shadows on the other side of the doors. Kieran peered through the dark, but it was impossible to see who lurked there. He heard whoever it was draw in a ragged breath. It was too loud in the Great Hall for anyone to hear it, but it seemed to echo in the still air outside. Kieran changed course while he was still invisible to the gossiping ladies. He approached on silent feet and attempted to discover who stood eavesdropping. As he approached, the first thing he noticed was that it was a woman. As he drew closer, his breeks tightened at the lush form. He hated wearing the pants but acquiesced to courtly standards of dress. His breacan feile, or great plaid, would be more comfortable as his rod continued to swell. He hadn’t had this reaction to Lady Bevan when he met her in the gardens only minutes ago. The woman was attractive and lusty, but her body looked like a twig compared to the woman in front of him. He couldn’t see her face, but lust and curiosity drove him forward.

  “You shouldn’t be eavesdropping. Curiosity killed the cat,” Kieran whispered. He didn’t miss the hypocrisy of his own statement, but he was too intrigued to ignore the young woman.

  The woman gasped and spun around. She seemed about to take a step back but remembered doing so would put her in the doorway's light, where the women would catch her. Kieran realized that she had the most incredible bosom he had even seen, one which heaved because she was sobbing. It took little deduction to realize he must be staring at the unfortunate Maude. Without a clue what possessed him, he pulled Maude into his embrace and sheltered her against his chest. She attempted to pull away just as she should, but she settled as he caressed her head.

  “Shh, lass. They’ll see or hear us,” he murmured against her ear.

  Maude nodded and allowed her body to relax against this strange man. She hadn’t sensed his approach and nearly screamed when she realized she was no longer alone. When the man pulled her into his arms, she had a moment of terror that he would accost her, but his gentleness reminded her of her father, though nothing about how he made her feel was like her father. His steady heartbeat thudded against her ear, and his fresh scent of sandalwood and pine made her think of home, a place she would much rather have been than at court.

  Kieran discovered his error within a heartbeat of embracing Maude. His cockstand was rampant, and he feared she would feel it and go running for the hills screaming bloody murder. He kept his hips away from her and prayed the thick material of her kirtle would serve as a buffer. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to release her. Her arms were tentative as they wound around his waist. Her frame was rigid until he whispered to her again, and then she melted against his chest. His heart broke all over again as he realized how what he thought of as a simple embrace comforted her. He likened her to an abandoned kitten brought in from the rain. He wondered what it would take to make her purr.

  “Wheest, buttercup. I’m here. Don’t cry. They aren’t worth the salt in your tears. Don’t listen to those harpies,” he crooned. She rewarded him with a small nod of her head. One hand continued to stroke her hair as the other ran circles over her back.

  “Her father will have to buy her a husband,” Laurel’s voice floated to them. “What mon would pick her?”

  Maude went still, the breath in her lungs stuck. Fresh tears threatened to fall as the conversation continued inside. The stranger’s arms tightened around her, and she burrowed her face into his chest as though she might tunnel her way to escape. She noticed his breath catch, and it did little to reassure her.

  “They called Elizabeth Fraser a spinster, but at least she was beautiful. The real spinster will be Maude. She’ll be on the shelf if her father doesn’t bribe someone to take her off his hands,” Madeline sneered, and if Kieran hadn’t been unwilling to unwrap his arms around the trembling woman, he would have wrapped them around his sister’s throat. “Maude on the shelf. That’s what we shall call her. Maude on the shelf.”

  Kieran cringed as the other two heartily agreed. He understood how the ladies-in-waiting could be. His sister had been one for three years, and to his great misfortune, he had to visit court more o
ften than he would like. Kieran was aware the new epithet would spread and be on everyone’s lips by morning.

  “Maude,” a woman’s voice hissed. “Maude, where are you?”

  The jerk of Maude’s head was so unexpected it snapped Kieran’s jaw closed. He’d been leaning his head down as he whispered to her and was unprepared for her sudden movement. He stifled a curse as Maude pulled away. Even in the dim light, he could see her eyes widen.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I must go. Thank--”

  Maude froze when Arabella stepped near them. Maude couldn’t see the man’s face, but she was certain Arabella had seen them embracing. After all, his arms were around her waist, but as Arabella drew closer, Kieran shifted so his larger frame partially hid her.

  He’s trying to protect me.

  Maude tapped his arm and nodded when he looked down at her.

  “It’s all right. She’s my friend.” Maude stepped around him and stumbled as Arabella grasped her hands and dragged her away from the doorway into the light of a wall sconce burning at the end of the terrace. She was certain she looked a fright when Arabella gasped.

  “Why’re you crying? What happened? What did he do?” Arabella demanded. She glared at the shadowy figure who followed them.