“And yet he persisted in holding you against him. I’m telling you, the look he shot me was protective. It was almost as if he dared me to speak against you. Once he realized we are friends, the expression was like he wanted to comfort you and devour you all at the same time.”
Maude climbed into bed and waited for Arabella to do the same before snuffing out her candle.
“Good night, Bella. And good night to your overactive imagination.”
“Humph. Night, love.”
Maude lay on her side, staring into the dark. This time there was no mystery man in the shadows. There was just nothingness. It fit how she felt. She replayed his final words in her head, but they made little sense. Or rather, they didn’t make sense when said to her. She couldn’t fathom how they had anything to do with her, so she assumed he’d merely attempted to make her feel better. But once again, the meaningless words made her heart feel hollow. She wished she could fall asleep at court and wake up in her chamber at home.
* * *
Maude rubbed her eyes as she came awake to the sound of Arabella and her maid moving about. She looked over to see Arabella fully dressed and her hair nearly done. Maude glanced toward her dresser and spotted her own maid brushing out her kirtle. She pushed back the covers and slipped from the bed.
“We should’ve been quieter,” Arabella frowned. “I’m sorry we woke you.”
“Sorry? Thank goodness you did. I’ll be late as it is. Why’d you let me oversleep?”
“Because you must be exhausted not to wake up before me. Are you poorly?” Arabella stepped away from her maid with her hair falling out of the unfinished braid. She approached Maude and looked over her face as though she searched for an invisible malady.
“Naught is wrong with me. I had a headache last night, but I’m well this morning. I suppose I just needed a little extra sleep.” Maude encouraged her maid to hurry to assist her with her gown. “Not so tight, if you please.”
While the maid assisted Maude into her stockings and chemise, Maude awkwardly balanced as she twisted her hair into a bun she secured with copious pins. She was certain that was part of what gave her headaches. It wasn’t just the weight of her hair, but all the pins that dug into her scalp. If she were at home, she could have gotten away with wearing her hair in a long braid down her back, but she learned soon after her arrival that the other ladies called her a country bumpkin for looking like a milkmaid. She resorted to wrapping her hair into a tight circle instead. It was only for feasts that she would sit while her maid braided her hair into more intricate styles.
Once Maude and Arabella were ready, they made their way to the queen’s dining hall, where the other ladies-in-waiting were gathering to break their fast. Arabella led Maude to a spot where several of Arabella’s friends sat. Maude believed she had a vicarious friendship with most of the women only because Arabella befriended her, and that was why they welcomed Maude at the table. She spotted Madeline and Laurel sitting a few spots down and across the table from her. The glare Madeline sent her told her Kieran must have spoken to her already. Maude lowered her head in prayer before beginning her porridge. Arabella was busy speaking with Cairren Kennedy and Blair. Maude and Blair had argued with the Mistress of the Bedchamber when she assigned them separate rooms upon their arrival. The woman had refused to entertain their complaints and insisted she separate them. It had been fine for Blair, who was far more sociable than Maude and who made friends with ease. Maude had been fortunate to move into Arabella’s chamber after her former roommate returned home. The separation allowed Blair and Maude to become more independent, but it was times like the night before when she missed Blair climbing into bed next to her. She smiled at her sister and gave her a speaking glance, to which Blair nodded. They would find each other after the meal to talk.
“Should we ask a stable hand to find you a shovel? You’d be able to inhale that porridge faster.” Madeline taunted. When Maude refused to answer, remaining focused on her meal, Madeline slid closer on the bench. Arabella, Cairstine, and Blair stopped talking, and Maude saw her sister lean forward. She placed a fist on the table, and her sister saw their sign to stop. “Thanks to you, the queen overheard my brother harping on aboot me being unkind to you. Now I have an afternoon of prayer to look forward to.”
“Thanks to Maude?” Cairren asked in confusion.
“Aye. My brother overheard part of a conversation last night that wasn’t intended for him, and he took pity on the poor wretch and chewed my ear off this morning. Of course, he doesn’t know how to whisper, so the queen overheard since he waylaid me outside the hall just as she was entering.”
“If she weren’t so pathetic,” Laurel chimed in. “He wouldn’t have pitied her enough to say aught. He doesn’t even know you and he thinks you’re pathetic.”
Maude looked up, the stubbornness that got her in trouble as a child rearing its head. She looked at Madeline and Laurel but said nothing. Her gaze dared them to say more. She was aware her expression could intimidate, so she enjoyed seeing the discomfort her adversaries experienced as she continued to stare. Madeline looked at the pitcher of cream near her right hand, and a cruel gleam entered her eyes. Maude sensed what was coming, but with other women on the bench, she couldn’t push back far enough to escape the liquid splashing down the front of her as the jug rolled across the table.
“My pardon, Maude. I’m usually not so clumsy,” Madeline purred.
“Bitch,” Blair growled as she stood and looked ready to reach across the table. “You did that on purpose, and we all ken it.”
“Blair,” Maude warned. She eased from her seat and notched up her chin. She forced her hands not to reach for her unfinished bowl of porridge. Chucking it in Madeline’s face wouldn’t endear her to the queen, and her parents would be livid if they learned of it. “It’s not her fault that those mitts of hers are so ham-handed.”
Madeline screeched as the other ladies giggled. Maude stepped away from the table, certain Madeline wouldn’t have her restraint. She didn’t want to wear any more of the morning meal than she already did. She turned on her heel and walked to the exit. Arabella and Blair would have more to say to Madeline, and she had no remorse.
* * *
Kieran’s gaze followed the velvet-clad woman as she hurried down the passageway. He recognized Maude at once, even though her back was to him. He didn’t understand how he could be so certain, but he was.
“Excuse me,” he muttered to the other men he milled about with as they waited to make their way to the lists. His long strides made it easy to catch up with Maude, but he waited until they turned a corner and were out of sight before he reached for her arm. She tugged it away, and a fist came flying toward his jaw. It was close to his shoulder before Maude realized at whom she aimed.
“Apologies. You startled me. You’re very silent.” Maude felt thick-tongued as she took in Kieran’s appearance in the full light of day. She had suspected he was handsome, but she was unprepared for his rugged good looks. His tawny hair had touches of carrot to it, but rather than looking garish, it gave the tone richness. His eyes were gray with a touch of green. It made for an unusual combination. She remembered how his broad frame encompassed her the night before as his large but gentle hands slid over her hair and back. In the dark, it had been impossible to tell just how large Kieran was. In the daylight, it was clear that he was a veritable mountain. It was clear he was a Highlander by his size and his bearing. He was similar in build to her father and brother, she realized; that was why his hug seemed familiar. However, the men in her family didn’t draw her like Kieran did. Women ogled her four braw cousins--Callum, Alex, Tavish, and Magnus—but never had the Sinclair brothers made her breath catch in the back of her throat.
Heat rushed through Kieran as she offered him her half-smile. He perceived she didn’t wear it often. It was genuine; not a courtly smile that he was sure she employed throughout the day. His eyes gorged on the ample bust hidden under her kirtle. The top of her cleavage showed, and he wished for nothing more than the chance to run his tongue along the deep crevice. He appreciated the trim waist that had been firm and curvy in his hands the night before, and he forced himself not to gaze at hips he wanted to thrust against. Randy thoughts were stirring his rod, and his breeks would again display his interest if he didn’t calm himself. Instead, his brow furrowed as he noticed the kirtle had a long stain running from the middle of her chest to where the material would have pooled while she sat. There was a faint scent of dairy as he sniffed. He smelled lemon verbena, but he also caught the odor of milk.
“A little mishap?” He kept his voice low. As soon as she heard his words, her smile vanished and a stubborn set to her jaw took its place. He understood two things in that moment: she had more mettle than the other women gave her credit for, and his sister was responsible for the mess. “What did she do?”
“I think it’s rather obvious. Excuse me, but I must hurry.” Maude turned to continue down the passageway, but Kieran matched her stride. When they rounded the corner that led to the ladies’-in-waiting chambers, she halted and turned to him. Before she realized what she was doing, she placed her hand on his chest and nudged him back. “You can’t follow me.”
“Then stop and talk to me.”
