“Let them work it out themselves,” Rowan approached from behind Caragh. He wrapped his arm around the swell of Caragh’s belly. “It’ll teach Edward not to drop his own sword, and it’ll make Keith understand how easily an opponent can turn his weapon against him.”
“Yes, well, you aren’t the one who has to wipe away their tears and try to fit them both on your lap with a belly as big as a barrel in the way, all while this wee imp tugs on your skirts. You just get to deal with your men. A far easier task, I would say. Care to switch?”
“Not on your life, mo Caragh. But I do like to watch. You amaze me with how you wrangle this brood! Just as well as you did your smugglers. Our children listen to you better than they do me, and I consider myself far more intimidating.”
“Not bloody likely. I control whether they get dessert.” Caragh let Catriona slip to the ground to find her rag doll, which she waved in the air as she cheered on her older brothers. She chanted each of their names, never showing favorites. Rowan rubbed Caragh’s belly and grinned down to his wife.
“How many bairns do you suppose we’ll have?”
“Enough to fill every chamber that we can spare from Ruairí and Senga. If you could keep your hands to yourself, then I might not end up carrying every time you touch me.” Caragh grinned as she teased her husband.
“That doesn’t help if you can’t keep your hands off me.” Rowan squeezed her backside.
“Then we’ll just have to see how many the good Lord gives us because there’s little chance we’ll ever slow down.”
“Aye, I want you just as much, if not more, than the first time you stripped bare in our cabin. I’ll never tire of your wit or your body.” Rowan wagged his eyebrows.
“You know, the boys will be fine with your mother minding them, and Catriona will soon need her nap. I believe I feel the need to rest soon.”
“And I shall be sure you’re well tucked in.”
Rowan dashed to ask his mother to watch their boys as Caragh took Catriona to the nursery. It was only a short while later that Rowan and Caragh fell naked into their bed, a tangle of arms and legs. Nothing had changed between the smuggler and the pirate, and neither anticipated it ever would. Their love was one for the ages.
Thank you for reading The Blond Devil of the Sea
Celeste Barclay, a nom de plume, lives near the Southern California coast with her husband and sons. Growing up in the Midwest, Celeste enjoyed spending as much time in and on the water as she could. Now she lives near the beach. She's an avid swimmer, a hopeful future surfer, and a former rower. When she's not writing, she's working or being a mom.
Visit Celeste’s website, www.celestebarclay.com, for regular updates on works in progress, new releases, and her blog where she features posts about her experiences as an author and recommendations of her favorite reads.
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Pirates of the Isles
Are you curious about Ruairí and Senga? They have their own tale arriving May 4, 2020. Pre-order your copy for only 99p.
What happens when a ruthless pirate meets the woman who warms his dark heart?
Ruairí MacNeil is one of the most feared pirates sailing the British Isles, but when he rescues a woman from attack, not once but twice, he discovers he can’t resist her when she matches wits without fear. Tempted by a future he never considered before, Ruairí makes an impetuous offer to the widow he discovers working in a tavern. Can Ruairí offer this mystery woman a better life aboard his ship than she has on the tiny island of Canna? Can he protect her from outside danger while he surrenders his heart?
What happens when a widow puts her trust in a notorious pirate known for a heart as merciless as his deeds?
Senga MacLeod Sorley didn’t expect a chance encounter with a pirate to lead to a kiss an adventure on the high seas. A widow with little to her name, Senga provides for herself by working in a local tavern, but she refuses to earn her living by doing anything other than serving food and ale. When men from the village demand more than she’s willing to give, she discovers the menacing pirate has a protective side he only reveals to her. Will Senga seize a chance at love after one kiss with a brooding pirate? Will she submit to his dominant nature when his form of discipline is anything but expected.
A new life aboard a pirate ship brings Senga an independence she never imagined, but along with that comes danger that puts her life and Ruairí’s at risk. When foreign enemies threaten their burgeoning love, Senga must choose between life as a pirate queen or life as a lonely but safe widow. Ruairí refuses to give up on happiness he never thought possible after running away from home. He must fight to show Senga her past doesn’t to determine her future when she fears history repeating itself. Can the Dark Heart convince the one woman who brightens his life to stay? Can Senga trust herself enough to accept the love Ruairí offers?
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The Highland Ladies
A Spinster at the Highland Court BOOK 1 SNEAK PEEK
Elizabeth Fraser looked around the royal chapel within Stirling Castle. The ornate candlestick holders on the altar glistened and reflected the light from the ones in the wall sconces as the priest intoned the holy prayers of the Advent season. Elizabeth kept her head bowed as though in prayer, but her green eyes swept the congregation. She watched the other ladies-in-waiting, many of whom were doing the same thing. She caught the eye of Allyson Elliott. Elizabeth raised one eyebrow as Allyson’s lips twitched. Both women had been there enough times to accept they’d be kneeling for at least the next hour as the Latin service carried on. Elizabeth understood the Mass thanks to her cousin Deirdre Fraser, or rather now Deirdre Sinclair. Elizabeth’s mind flashed to the recent struggle her cousin faced as she reunited with her husband Magnus after a seven-year separation. Her aunt and uncle’s choice to keep Deirdre hidden from her husband simply because they didn’t think the Sinclairs were an advantageous enough match, and the resulting scandal, still humiliated the other Fraser clan members at court. She admired Deirdre’s husband Magnus’s pledge to remain faithful despite not knowing if he’d ever see Deirdre again.
Elizabeth suddenly snapped her attention; while everyone else intoned the twelfth—or was it thirteenth—amen of the Mass, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She had the strongest feeling that someone was watching her. Her eyes scanned to her right, where her parents sat further down the pew. Her mother and father had their heads bowed and eyes closed. While she was convinced her mother was in devout prayer, she wondered if her father had fallen asleep during the Mass. Again. With nothing seeming out of the ordinary and no one visibly paying attention to her, her eyes swung to the left. She took in the king and queen as they kneeled together at their prie-dieu. The queen’s lips moved as she recited the liturgy in silence. The king was as still as a statue. Years of leading warriors showed, both in his stature and his ability to control his body into absolute stillness. Elizabeth peered past the royal couple and found herself looking into the astute hazel eyes of Edward Bruce, Lord of Badenoch and Lochaber. His gaze gave her the sense that he pe
ered into her thoughts, as though he were assessing her. She tried to keep her face neutral as heat surged up her neck. She prayed her face didn’t redden as much as her neck must have, but at a twenty-one, she still hadn’t mastered how to control her blushing. Her nape burned like it was on fire. She canted her head slightly before looking up at the crucifix hanging over the altar. She closed her eyes and tried to invoke the image of the Lord that usually centered her when her mind wandered during Mass.
A Spy at the Highland Court BOOK 1.5 SNEAK PEEK
Dedric Hage watched as the English king continued his royal rage as courtiers and advisors eased away from their irate sovereign. His Majesty’s face was mottled with red splotches that only accentuated his fair complexion, and spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as his rant amplified. King Edward stalked about the chamber on the long legs that earned him the moniker “Longshanks.”
“I don’t give a bloody damn who oversaw the attack. It failed!” He railed against the last advisor who tried to reassure him that the recent loss was not the end of his campaign against the Scots. “Failure is failure. That usurper believes he’s gotten the upper hand, and he will continue worming his way further into England now that he thinks he has outsmarted me. I should have killed him when I had the chance.”
King Edward muttered his final comments as he sank back into the engraved and carved chair that sat on a dais. His bile spewed the king retreated into his own thoughts as the rest of the chamber was left wondering what to do next.
Dedric had seen this pattern countless times over the course of his life. He was all too familiar with the king’s mercurial temper and unpredictable outbursts, but he also knew Edward was one of the best strategists and logisticians to have every lived. While he might not like the man, he respected him. At times. Ric watched as the king scanned the crowd, assessing each knight present until his eyes settled on rich, who wished he could melt into the curtains and watch the people in the gardens below.
“Sir Dedric, approach.”
A Wallflower at the Highland Court BOOK 2 SNEAK PEEK
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.
A Rogue at the Highland Court BOOK 3 SNEAK PEEK
The crunch of frost echoed in Stirling Castle’s royal gardens as Allyson Elliot trudged along with the other ladies-in-waiting, enduring another one of the queen’s morning strolls through the struggling blossoms. It was mid-March, and spring had arrived for their neighbors to the south, but Mother Nature seemed to have forgotten that Stirling wasn’t truly in the Highlands. Sitting on the border between the Highlands and Lowlands, the weather in Stirling was fickle, playing both sides of the fence. Allyson puffed out a cloud of condensation as the ice crackled beneath her booted feet. She didn’t mind the distance of the morning constitutional, but having been raised in the Lowlands, Allyson was still unaccustomed to the frigid temperatures of the north.
“I still can’t believe he married her.” Allyson caught the waspish voice of Cairstine Grant as her attention returned to the young women around her. Allyson realized Cairstine spoke of Maude Sutherland without hearing the former lady-in-waiting’s name. Maude had been a shy lass from the northern Highlands, and several of the other ladies-in-waiting–Cairstine Grant included–had teased her without mercy. It had come as a shock when Kieran MacLeod arrived at court and immediately took an interest in Maude, who the other ladies considered overweight and plain. He’d been one of the most eligible lairds, and more than one nose was out of joint when he chose a woman so many believed was beneath him.
Allyson struggled to smother her giggle as she considered just how Maude was beneath Kieran these days. Allyson arrived at court four years ago as an impressionable girl overwhelmed by the attention her fair hair and robin-egg blue eyes garnered. She soon realized she enjoyed the attention after being the youngest of her parents’ six children. A few batted eyelashes and a coy smile earned her the appreciation of the young courtiers who flocked to court hoping to gain attention and favor from King Robert the Bruce. While Allyson wasn’t as daring as some of her peers, she had stolen a few kisses from these men, hoping to find one who would make her his wife and take her away from both the royal court and her family. Her attempts hadn’t garnered a husband, but it had resulted in a reputation as a flirt.
“Allyson. Allyson, are you listening to me?”
The Clan Sinclair
His Highland Lass BOOK 1 SNEAK PEEK
She entered the great hall like a strong spring storm in the northern most Highlands. Tristan Mackay felt like he had been blown hither and yon. As the storm settled, she left him with the sweet scents of heather and lavender wafting towards him as she approached. She was not a classic beauty, tall and willowy like the women at court. Her face and form were not what legends were made of. But she held a unique appeal unlike any he had seen before. He could not take his eyes off of her long chestnut hair that had strands of fire and burnt copper running through them. Unlike the waves or curls he was used to, her hair was unusually straight and fine. It looked like a waterfall cascading down her back. While she was not tall, neither was she short. She had a figure that was meant for a man to grasp and hold onto, whether from the front or from behind. She had an aura of confidence and charm, but not arrogance or conceit like many good looking women he had met. She did not seem to know her own ap
peal. He could tell that she was many things, but one thing she was not was his.
His Bonnie Highland Temptation BOOK 2 SNEAK PEEK
The pounding in Callum’s head as he awoke made him wonder if he had been mistaken for the blacksmith’s anvil. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked over at the curvaceous blonde sleeping next to him. The previous night began to drift through his memory. His father, Liam Sinclair the chief of Clan Sinclair, had announced less than a sennight night ago that not only had he arranged a betrothal for Callum, his heir and tánaiste, but that the woman would be arriving before the sennight was over. She was expected some time late this day, so last night he had celebrated his upcoming nuptials by drowning his sorrows in more drams of whisky than he could remember and taking his current lover to bed for a night of entertainment and pleasure. He had been very sure to tell Elizabeth that this was his last night of freedom and that their short, albeit passionate, liaison was coming to an end. While Callum Sinclair may have enjoyed more than a few women’s attention and considered himself a well experienced lover, he was also a man committed to fidelity to his wife. Whomever she might be.
The Blond Devil of the Sea: The Highland Ladies Book Three Page 22
