A Saint at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Six

by Barclay, Celeste

  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?”

  A Rake at the Highland Court BOOK 4 SNEAK PEEK

  Eoin Gordon raised his chalice once more to toast his twin brother, Ewan, and his new sister-by-marriage, Allyson. As he did, he had a sense that someone was watching him. As the hairs on the back of his neck rose, Eoin passed a quick glance over the diners seated below the dais, but no one seemed to be paying attention to him. He raised his chalice again but didn’t take a sip; instead, he continued to scan the crowd. He looked for anyone doing the same: studying him while attempting to ensure no one else noticed.

  “What’s amiss?” Ewan, the elder twin by five minutes and the heir to Clan Gordon, leaned toward him. The brothers had been inseparable since the day of their birth. They possessed an uncanny intuition for one another and seemed to share the same thoughts more often than not. Until Ewan fell in love with Allyson, neither trusted anyone more than they did each other. As he heard Allyson laugh, Eoin’s memory flashed to her courtship with Ewan. Their relationship started poorly when Allyson ran away rather than consider a marriage to Ewan. More than once during that time, Eoin had wanted to shake Ewan, whose views on marriage and fidelity had changed all too slowly. Eoin was grateful for Allyson’s influence; he was certain his brother was a better man for it.

  “Naught. I just have a sense that someone is watching me,” Eoin explained. “It’s making me want to squirm.”

  “I haven’t a clue why women find you so attractive, but it’s probably some bored wife or lonely widow,” Ewan grinned. His reputation as a rogue was entrenched in many women’s minds, but his obvious devotion to Allyson no longer caused Eoin concern that his brother intended to stray from his marriage vows. “You do have a reputation as a rake. One of them is hoping they’ll warm your bed tonight.”

  “Only one?” Eoin cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “My charm must be slipping.”

  “You assume you had any to begin with. Perhaps it was my charm that lured the women, and they figured two is better than one,” Ewan teased. The twins were mirror images in every way except for their battle scars. Ewan had a scar that split the left corner of his lip, and Eoin had a less noticeable scar above his left eyebrow. While their scares weren’t in the same place, they were still on the same side. There was little to distinguish them apart, and they’d relied upon that throughout their lives, often trading places.

  “That very charm had me running for the hills,” Allyson elbowed her husband as she leaned around Ewan to speak to her brother-by-marriage. “It’s Cairstine Grant. I don’t have a clue why she keeps looking at you, but she can’t seem to distract herself.”

  “Cairstine? Why would she be staring?” Eoin wondered aloud.

  An Enemy at the Highland Court BOOK 5 SNEAK PEEK

  A crack of thunder followed only moments later by a blaze of lightning made several ladies-in-waiting jump within the queen’s solar. The early autumn storm seemed to rattle one’s bones as much as it did the window embrasures. Cairren Kennedy glanced around Queen Elizabeth’s private salon and stifled her chuckle as the newest ladies-in-waiting trembled. Mostly Lowlanders, these young ladies were not yet accustomed to the raging storms the Highlands flung upon Stirling from the north. Cairren arrived at Robert the Bruce’s court three years earlier as a wide-eyed and quiet girl. But in the time she’d spent there, she’d developed a thick skin and a significant cynicism. As she watched the newer arrivals, she wished she could return to her days before becoming a lady-in-waiting to Elizabeth de Burgh. It had been just over a year since her best friend, Allyson Elliot, married Ewan Gordon and moved to the Highlands. During that year, Cairren awaited the announcement of her own betrothal, and with each passing month, she found her mood increasingly matched the weather outside.

  Cairren received a hint from her father around the time of Allyson’s wedding that he was in the midst of arranging a betrothal to a Highlander, but he’d volunteered no specifics. Cairren suspected that news came several prospective suitors ago. Growing up near the border, with constant strife between the Scots and the English, made life among the contentious Highlanders seem peaceful. While her clan’s land sat along the coast, their allies were the Dunbars and Armstrongs, which meant the two border clans often called upon the Kennedys to lend warriors to the cause. She understood her father wanted her away from the ever-shifting political dynamics that were a daily part of life in the south. However, moving to the Highlands sight unseen terrified her. She was blessed with a doting father who always had her best interests at heart, but she couldn’t help but wonder how he thought the Highlands were a better option. She’d rather move to her mother’s people in southern France. At least there, she would blend in.

  “Lady Cairren,” Queen Elizabeth’s voice drew Cairren out of her pensiveness, forcing her to abandon her thoughts. “Please pick up where you left off yesterday.”

  Cairren retrieved the vellum copy of Summa contra Gentiles from the table upon which she’d laid it the day before. With a slight French lilt to her voice, Cairren was among the queen’s favorites to read aloud. She was also one of the few women who read fluently. She accepted that the queen had committed her to an hour of droning prose on providence and the soul. While she was as devout as the next person, Cairren swallowed her sigh as she prepared to read the divine insights of Thomas Aquinas. As she settled onto a stool, a page entered the solar and whispered to the Mistress of the Bedchamber who, in turn, cast an eye at Cairren.

  “Your Majesty, I beg your pardon, but Lady Cairren has been summoned to see her father and mother, who are newly arrived,” the Mistress of the Bedchamber announced, all eyes swinging to Cairren.

  The Clan Sinclair

  His Highland Lass BOOK 1 SNEAK PEEK

  She entered the great hall like a strong spring storm in the northern most Highland
s. 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 appeal. 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.

  His Highland Prize BOOK 3 SNEAK PEEK

  I just need to make it to the light. Heavenly Father, please let there be a light over this hill. I canna go much farther. I must go farther. Will there never be a village or a keep nearby? I dinna think I will last much longer. Please, in the name of the Father and all the heavenly saints, just let me find someone who can help me.

  Brighde Kerr pushed her sopping wet hair from her eyes as she stumbled onward. She had lost her shoes days ago after they had fallen apart while on the run from her pursuers. Her kirtle, which had once been a daffodil yellow was now a murky shade of beige with a ripped sleeve, frayed hem, and at least two holes that she had noticed in the skirts. Brighde ached all over. Her feet were raw from walking and running for nearly two weeks. Her legs protested taking even one more step, and her chest burned from trying to breathe through her efforts and the torrential downpour in which she once again found herself.

  Light! I’m sure of it. I can finally see it coming from a keep. Dear God above, please allow me in. I just need---

  His Highland Pledge BOOK 4 SNEAK PEEK

  Magnus Sinclair detested being at the royal court. There was nothing redeemable in his eyes, and his face ensured everyone knew the Highland giant was not there to exchange pleasantries. Standing at six and a half feet tall, he towered over almost every man in the king’s household and all the men who sought the monarch’s attention. Only a few visiting Highlanders mirrored him in height and physique. As though sticking out like a sore thumb from his height and his insistence upon wearing his plaid was not enough, he felt naked without his claymore. Locked away in his chamber, his two-handed broadsword was as much a part of him as either hand. For the safety of the king and his family, they allowed no one to wear or carry a sword into the main gathering hall. Magnus’s sword forged to accommodate his size, and even though custom designed, the enormous sword looked like little more than a young lad’s wooden practice sword when Magnus held it. Needless to say, it was not a welcome sight strapped to his back. When he arrived the day before, he resigned himself to just carrying his dirks, of which he had at least eight on various parts of his body.

  Arriving early the previous morning, Magnus spent all of the day and much of the evening in a passageway, standing, awaiting an audience with the king. This day came and went, just as the previous one had, with no indicator of when the king would meet with him. This only aggravated Magnus more as a representative from the Sinclair clan summoned rather than volunteered to attend court.

  His Highland Surprise BOOK 5 SNEAK PEEK

  Tavish Sinclair stood frozen in the Great Hall of his clan's keep as he listened to his father.

  "Ye canna be serious!" He realized his voice was quiet as he spoke to Laird Liam Sinclair, but in his head, it was a roar. "I dinna need a wife. I dinna want a wife."

  Tavish's body was so still he looked like a statue carved from marble, his expression like a death mask.

  He canna mean it. I simply flirted one too many times with the elder man's daughter, Isabella. I will stay away and then this nonsense will pass.

  "It isnae aboot Isabella or any of the local lasses ye ken so well. The king has decreed that I must make a match between our clans. Ye are the older of ma two unmarried sons. The duty falls to ye."

  "But Magnus is already at court."

  He recognized he sounded petulant, but Tavish Sinclair was a confirmed bachelor. He never intended to settle down with one woman. The Sinclair men, once their oath made, never were unfaithful to their wives. He refused to make that traditional vow, so instead he avoided marriage like it were a fire sweeping through hay.

  "Aye, Magnus is at court. And taking far longer than expected. I worry something befell him. The king's message was rather cryptic on that front. I would have ye go to court and see that yer brother fares well, and while there, ye can meet the lass. Ye ken I will force none of ye into an unhappy marriage. I ask only that ye meet her. See if ye suit."

  Pirates of the Isles

  The Blond Devil of the Sea BOOK 1 SNEAK PEEK

  Caragh lifted her torch into the air as she made her way down the precarious Cornish cliffside. She made out the hulking shape of a ship, but the dead of night made it impossible to see who was there. She and the fishermen of Bedruthan Steps weren’t expecting any shipments that night. But her younger brother Eddie, who stood watch at the entrance to their hiding place, had spotted the ship and signaled up to the village watchman, who alerted Caragh.

  As her boot slid along the dirt and sand, she cursed having to carry the torch and wished she could have sunlight to guide her. She knew these cliffs well, and it was for that reason it was better that she moved slowly than stop moving once and for all. Caragh feared the light from her torch would carry out to the boat. Despite her efforts to keep the flame small, the solitary light would be a beacon.

  When Caragh came to the final twist in the path before the sand, she snuffed out her torch and started to run to the cave where the main source of the village’s income lay in hiding. She heard movement along the trail above her head and knew the local fishermen would soon join her on the beach. These men, both young and old, were strong from days spent pulling in the full trawling nets and hoisting the larger catches onto their boats. However, these men weren’t well-trained swordsmen, and the fear of pirate raids was ever-present. Caragh feared that was who the villagers would face that night.

  The Dark Heart of the Sea BOOK 2 SNEAK PEEK

  Ruairí MacNeil opened the door to the Three Merry Lads and tried not to curl his nose in disgust. The overpowering odor of too many bodies, stale beers, and burned food created a cloud of stench inside the tavern. Ruairí scanned the crowd as he stepped inside and immediately noticed that many members of his crew were already settled, a pint in one hand and a woman in the other. His ship, the Lady Charity, had docked an hour earlier. With their most recent bounty already stored in the nearby cave, Ruairí had granted them shore leave. He nodded his head once to his first mate, Kyle, who was the only sober one in the lot. Ruairí
made another visual sweep of the room, checking whether there were any other sailors who might be less enthused to see him come ashore. When he was satisfied none of his rivals were waiting to stab him, he attempted to make his way to the bar. As he pushed through the standing-room-only main room, he noticed a tavern wench attempting to carry a tray of empty mugs to the bar. She was a sturdy sort, but short when compared to the mountainous Highlanders and Hebrideans who made up the patrons of the Lads. Ruairí couldn’t help but smile as she tried to twist and shoulder her way past men who blocked her on purpose to give themselves more time to ogle her body.

  It was rare that Ruairí felt mercy, sympathy, or compassion for anyone, let alone a woman, but there was an odd twinge in his heart as he watched her try to maintain her smile as she became more frustrated. The woman swatted away a hand that dared come too close to her modest neckline. That observation caused Ruairí to quirk a brow and inspect the woman. She had on a clean white blouse–a rarity in this tavern–and it fit loosely over her entire bust. It left much to the imagination, and Ruairí found his was alive and well. Her skirts reached her ankles instead of hiked up on either side like the other women who worked in the tavern. From what Ruairí could tell, she looked more like a farmer’s wife than a tavern wench. She didn’t fit in.