Soul Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)(6)

Claudine said it despairingly.

“Niece...” her uncle said gently. “Patience.”

Claudine felt a sudden stab of restlessness, out of character with her usual tranquil self. She did not feel patience. Why should she? She was twenty years of age! Why should she be confined to a chair on the terrace, unable to take twenty paces without weariness, when other young ladies of the court could hop, skip, and dance? It wasn't fair! She would need to try and find someone who could help her.

She stood and walked to the edge of the terrace, wishing at the least to watch the ladies dancing and forget, for a little while, about her watchful, concerned uncle telling her to have patience. If it was him unable to walk or dance or ride, confined to a chair most of the day, he'd find patience a challenge.

Claudine leaned on the rail, her head clearing a little as she breathed in the fresh, fragrant warm air and watched the ladies in the courtyard below. Two of them, Yvette and Mirabelle, were dancing together, Mirabelle holding out an elaborate skirt of yellow silk and blue brocade. They were laughing, arms linked, as they practiced some new dance step together.

“Oh, come on, Mirabelle! Why should I dance the man's part?” Yvette protested lightly.

“We can take turns,” Mirabelle said, her bright, glossy hair shining in the sunlight as she turned to face her cousin with an impish grin.

“Maybe he can be of assistance?” one of the other ladies, clustered around Mirella, who played the lute for their pageantry, suggested.

“He?” Mirabelle asked.

“Yes. Pardon me, sir? But what is your name. And since you watch us so intently from the hallway, mayhap you will join in our fun?”

Claudine felt herself smile, a little shocked by Mirabelle's forthright invitation to whoever it was. The subject of their addresses – a young man, Claudine knew it must be – stepped uncertainly forward. Claudine saw him step out of the shadow of the hallway and into the light of the courtyard below.

She stared.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with a strong-jawed face, the young man had an upright posture that was not matched with his awkwardness. It was his hesitating manner which struck her first, though it struck her at almost the same time as the color of his hair.

A brown that leaned closer to a rich russet, like leaves in autumn, kissed with sunshine, it was a striking color different to many she had seen before. No other young man she knew had such hair.

The hair color, combined with the uncertain grin and the broad-shouldered, hardened body made him striking and handsome.

Claudine felt her heart start to thump in a way that had little to do with the malady.

I've never seen someone who interests me like this.

“I wonder who he is?” she whispered, almost to herself. She watched him walk forward, the still air of the summer's courtyard allowing the words to carry clearly up to her.

“We need someone to help us learn the quatrain,” Yvette explained. Her thin, elegant face was flushed red, Claudine noticed. She felt her own hands grip the stone railing tighter as she watched the young man frown, evidently quite surprised by the invitation.

He smiled. Claudine felt her heart melt a little at the sweetness of the expression. “My lady,” he said, bowing low. “I regret to admit that I know little of the quatrain. I would be of little use to you...you seem already so admirably well-trained in it.”

He grinned again and Claudine watched Yvette go redder. The ladies around her giggled and Jacintha fanned herself with her hand as if the courtyard had suddenly become overly warm for her liking.

I know how she feels, Claudine thought, feeling a slow flush of heat creep up through her own body, though she could not have said exactly why. It was something to do with the young man, she knew, and his confidence, his grace. His disarming friendliness.

“My lord!” Yvette said, when she'd found her voice again. “You are too gallant. We know very little of the dance and are certain we'd be paired well, if you have as little expertise as you seem to profess.”

He went red and shook his head, still grinning openly. “I protest, my lady. I do know almost nothing, and, while I'm honored by the request, would prefer to be on my way. My apologies. But I would only disgrace myself if paired with you, and would hate to do so in such beautiful company.”

He gave the seven ladies a dazzling smile and Claudine felt her heart twist with a mix of joy and envy. Joy at seeing something so lovely. Envy at seeing it directed at the ladies down below her, dancing and able-bodied.

I suppose I'm fooling myself to even look at him, she thought harshly. Who would want to look at a useless woman like me? Uncle's right. Father should give up. No one would ever want me...why would they?

She turned away to hide her flaming cheeks, eyes wet with sudden tears. As she did so, a petal drifted from the rose she'd tucked into her bodice earlier. The young man caught sight of it and looked up.

Their eyes met.

Claudine felt color flood her cheeks. He was looking up at her, staring straight into her eyes. His own eyes were pale green. She blinked, feeling heat rise in her face and her heart start to thump in a way completely different to anything she had ever felt before.

He is looking at me as if...as if I'm something worth looking at. She had seen that look on faces before, admiring the intense beauty of the palace grounds, staring in wonder at some new rose or flowering bush the gardeners had planted. However, she had never expected that this young man would direct such a look at her.