The Highlander's Maid

By Molly Stuart

The sky was already darkening by the time they arrived, the low sun glittering in the Loch, and the thickening shadows gaining ground on them as they rode. Mary had been sitting in the saddle for some hours now, and her limbs were starting to ache as they crossed into the valley. From some distance away, she could see a dark structure, blackened as though it had been plunged into a fire, with many parts of the building already fallen into ruins. She turned uneasily to her husband, saying “Is my new home?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Avery Publishing
• Release date: Apr 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386888796

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The Highlander’s Maid

Scottish Highlander Romance

By: Molly Stuart

The Highlander’s Maid

Chapter 1

The Queen said abruptly, Your father is coming to see you this afternoon.

They had been sitting in the chamber for an hour, and so Mary turned to her mistress in surprise. Coming here?

Oh yes, I had only just thought of it, you see. He is coming to discuss your marriage.

Mary’s eyes opened even wider, but she said nothing, and the Queen shrugged, waving the tip of her needle dangerously close to her own face.

He wrote me a letter, I forget when. You are going to be married shortly. Isn’t that exciting?

She looked at her young maid’s face, beaming with enthusiasm.

I have heard nothing. I thought that my father would write to me.

Oh, la. The Queen said, and shrugged again. Your father will know best how to marry his daughters, you will see. I am sure that he has found you a suitable husband to make you proud. I believe that it is one of the Earl’s heirs, but I didn’t ask for details.

Mary looked across at the other maid, Euphemia, who had remained silent. The older woman shook her head slightly, and Mary knew that it was no use asking any more questions.

By four o’clock, she had quite given up seeing her father before dinner, and so retired to the maid’s quarters. There were eight of them, tucked into a room, which was somewhat too small for her. That was the Earl of Moray’s doing, they had said. He wanted the Queen to have as few of her maids as possible, and so they were having to lie side-by-side in the chamber, like rolls of cloth at a dressmaker’s.

It had been different in France, Mary thought. There, the Queen had been given everything she needed, from bright tapestries for the wall down to salt cellars carved in the shape of ancient deities. Her father had been to France once, on a mission from the Scottish lords, and he had roughly condemned the Queen’s way of life, calling her spoiled with French ways. He had threatened to take his daughter away immediately, but Mary had begged for a little more time, for more chances to learn with the Queen, and in the end, he had relented.

She had been surprised that he was so opposed to all things French. When Queen Madeleine had arrived, he had been one of the