The Bluestocking's Highlander: A Regency Romance

Book 3: The Bluestocking Club

by Audrey Harrison

Genres: Regency Romance; Scottish & Highlander

Synopsis

Can a literary bluestocking and a battle-hardened soldier write themselves a new future together?

Miss Alice Boyd is a confirmed spinster who lives her life through the written word. She feels most comfortable on the edges of society, and writing her first novel is the perfect pursuit to keep her there.

Captain Avril is one of Wellington's returned soldiers. The brave Scot fought and survived many skirmishes against the French, but discovering his betrothed has married his best friend is the hardest battle he has ever faced.

As if this is not enough for one man to handle, Miss Boyd is determined to challenge and enrage him at every turn. The fierce and meddlesome little bluestocking will not allow him to wallow in his misery.

To gain a future, Captain Avril must face his past. To capture his heart, Alice must be braver than she ever imagined she could be. Alice may be ready for her first adventure, but it will take more than a grand gesture to bring these two troubled souls together and secure their happy ending.

The Bluestocking’s Highlander is a Regency Romance, topped with a generous amount of humour, action and tears. If you like simmering chemistry, compelling but complex characters and fast-paced action, then this is the perfect book for you. Book three of the Bluestocking Club.

The Bluestocking's Quest - Book 1
The Bluestocking's Fortune - Book 2
The Bluestocking's Highlander - Book 3
Books 4 to 7 to be released.

 

Read more

Release date: February 1, 2023

Sample

Prologue


Captain Avril had never watched someone as closely as he did Alice as she slept. Every movement she made, every time she winced as she turned her head, he moved to the edge of his seat, wanting to go to her but not wishing to cause her pain.
Thoughts were rushing through his mind, tearing at his insides in a way he had not experienced for years, and he was struggling with it.
Constantly cursing himself under his breath, he wanted to leave the room, leave the house and go somewhere he could hide and never see anyone else again, but until he knew she would be well, he could do nothing but sit and wait.

***
Eventually, she yawned and stretched a little, wincing when the lump on her head touched the pillow. Blinking herself awake, she looked in surprise at Captain Avril.
“Have you been tending me?” she asked groggily.
“If you mean, have I been sat here being as helpless as a bairn, yes I have,” he replied.
Alice smiled slightly. “You could never be helpless.”
“I have certainly felt it this afternoon. What did you think ye were doing, putting yourself against a man three times the size of you?”
“It worked when I stood up to you,” she replied.
“That is because I am a gentle soul.”
Alice snorted, which made him smile for the first time since she had been carried in. “Could I have some water, please?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, standing and pouring a glass. Holding it out to her, he cursed when she tried to sit up unaided and grimaced in pain. “Wait,” he commanded. Lifting her gently, he supported her in the crook of his arm and handed her the glass.
Taking the water a sip at a time, Alice revelled in being so close to him. When she had sated her thirst, she tucked her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes with a sigh.
Hearing his sharp intake of breath, she looked up at him. “My head does not hurt when I am like this.” She was quite impressed that she could speak, as when she had turned her head to meet his gaze, she had been taken aback by the intensity of his stare. Those blue eyes she had admired from afar were even more impressive up close.
He seemed to be struggling with something, for he did not speak, but he bit his lip. Alice was drawn to the action, and slowly with the hand that was not holding the glass, she reached up and touched his lips. Her action caused a quiet gasp, but she did not move her fingers away.
“I have longed to do this,” she said quietly.
“It is wrong,” he said gruffly, but he was watching her with such intensity, she knew he wanted her touch as she wanted to be touched by him.
“Is it? Then I cannot do this?” she asked, running her fingers over his cheek, feeling the stubble that had developed through the day.
Groaning, he moved his hand and mirrored her actions on her cheek. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered.
“But I am not. I am here and with you,” she replied.
“I should not be doing this,” he moaned as he touched his fingers to her lips, which she parted slightly.
“I am glad you are.”
“Blast it,” he cursed before crushing her to him and taking her mouth to plunder. There was no gentle first kiss for Alice; she had chosen a man who knew what he wanted and gave as much as he took. He teased her, made her breathless, and showed her what it was like to be kissed by a man driven by passion and longing.
Eventually, he pulled away from her, and kissing her forehead, he lay her down on the bed, putting some distance between them.
“Why have you stopped?” Alice asked, afraid of what was to come.
“I cannae do this,” he said, hands running through his hair and tugging the ends.
“Kiss me?”
“Oh, I can do that,” he said derisively. “It is the falling in love, being with one person, waiting until they let you down, that is what I cannae do.”
“That is a huge leap from a kiss,” Alice said, trying to inject some humour into the situation.
“But it wasn’t, was it?” he demanded of her. “I could have kissed you that first night when you demanded I behaved, as if you were some sort of angry pixie. I have mooned around you like some Johnny Raw since then, and it is not getting any easier.”
“I see.”
“Is that all you have to say? Have I made you speechless for the first time in your life?”
Alice laughed, despite the knowledge that she was losing him, for she had to. One day she hoped he would be hers, but she knew that now was the wrong time for him. “Never that,” she answered. “I am not prepared to argue against nonsensical reasons why we cannot be together when we both know what the real problem is, and until you fix that, you are always going to be troubled.”
“And what is that?” he demanded, but he was looking warily at her.
“Until you can face your first love and be sure that she is gone from your heart, there is no room for anyone else,” Alice said sadly.
He reared back slightly. “I do not have feelings for her! She betrayed me.”
“Yes, you do,” Alice insisted. “If you are being honest, you know you do; that is why I have had to wait all this time to receive a single kiss from you. It has been no fun to see you struggling with your feelings, but I know I cannot compete against an image you have in your mind of the perfect woman.”
“How can I think she is perfect when she betrayed me?”
“You have blamed yourself for not being there; you do not blame her for her duplicity,” Alice said.
Avril hung his head. “I want you. I really do.”
“Then go to Scotland and sort out your feelings towards that woman, for I refuse to be second best to anyone.”
Glowering at her, he crossed the room, bending to where she was on the pillows and kissed her once, roughly. “You are not second best, but know this, if you meet anyone else whilst I am gone, I will kill him, for I won’t be pushed out again.”
“Go away, you big oaf,” Alice said.
“I mean it.”
“And so do I,” she said. “I will not have her shadow hanging around for the rest of my days. I want you to be free.”
“I do not deserve you.”
“Probably not, but we will work on that when you return.”
With a smile and a blow of a kiss, he left the room.
Alice closed her eyes for a few moments, tears squeezing out between her eyelashes. She had done the right thing by them both, but it was not an easy thing to do. His first love was married to another, but it did not mean that he would not be affected by her when he was in her company once more.
Cursing herself, she suddenly opened her eyes. “I refuse to just wait until he returns, not knowing what is going on. He needs to exorcise her, but that does not mean I have to be a passive bystander,” she muttered to herself. “No, Alice, it is time to fight for what you want.”
Climbing out of bed, she gingerly walked to her desk, which Lydia had moved to her chamber as soon as they had arrived there to enable her to write in privacy when she wanted to. Sitting down, she closed her eyes for a moment, letting the dizziness pass before moving again.
Pulling the desk drawer open, she took out some paper. “It is time for a journey,” she said to herself. “But I need someone to accompany me. Serena, I hope you are keen for an adventure.” Picking up her quill, she started to write.
 

Chapter 1


Captain James Avril was a fool. He knew this more forcefully with each mile he travelled on the blasted stage he was crammed into. Not all he had to endure was physical. Being classed as a giant of a man at over six feet in height, broad-shouldered and solid, it was not easy folding himself into such a crowded tight space, but there was more to his turmoil. He had never felt so bereft, well, perhaps once, but he was currently on a journey in which he was sure he had left part of him behind, the wrench felt so real.
His glowers, not aimed at anyone in particular, had persuaded two of the inhabitants of the latest carriage that they would be more comfortable sitting on top rather than face the dark looks of the ogre that was James, muttering curses to himself. The extra room did nothing to relieve him of his present discomfort, for how could it? He felt as if he was being torn in two – literally.
He wanted Alice Boyd, the petite, fiery bluestocking, who could be a termagant one moment and as gentle as a lamb the next. That he knew he was the one to make her flare up made his insides ache, but she could give as good as she got and could certainly stand up to him. He smiled at the thought of their first meeting. He had been in the servants’ quarters of her friend Lydia’s house, the one she had made a place of respite for those who were homeless or destitute because of the end of the war with the French. He had been in the middle of a battle of wills with the housekeeper who was foolishly trying to relieve him of his kilt.
Stroking the material of the same kilt, which he wore every day, he looked out the window and almost laughed at the memory of Alice walking in with Lydia in the hope that they could achieve what the servants had not. After yet further argument, it was Alice who had berated him and compared him to a bairn, the cheeky minx. When he had dropped his kilt, revealing that in fact he was very much all man, he had expected hysterics, and of course the staff obliged with screams, curses and action to try to cover him up. He had been immune to all that, just watching the pretty bluestocking. He had half expected her to swoon, but she had grinned, her eyes glittering with suppressed laughter. She had looked at her friend, and he could tell they were both trying to contain their amusement from the staff who were ushering them out of the room to protect them from such disgraceful behaviour. If the servants had been in charge, he would have been cast out, but fortunately it was never insisted on by Lydia, so he stayed.
If he was one to believe in love at first sight, he would have been convinced that he had met the woman of his dreams, but experience had taught him that he could not trust such fanciful notions. He had loved once and had been betrayed in the worst possible way. And now he was on his way to face the woman who had broken his heart and the friend who had betrayed him, and all he could think about was that he had left Alice behind.
James had never expected to return home, not after finding out that his betrothed had married his best friend while he was away. He had not anticipated being gone for so long, but military men were needed, and he had wanted to do his duty, and she had promised to wait. It seems she had wanted children and decided that his best friend was a better option to provide them rather than being loyal to her absent betrothed.
Simon had been like a brother to him. They had grown up together, their lands adjoining each other, never a day apart. They had gone to the same school, rode together, chased the girls and fought like only true brothers could. To find that Constance had married Simon was the ultimate betrayal, and James was not sure who had hurt him the most, but it broke something in him.
Already exhausted and overwhelmed by the horrors of Waterloo, the terrible betrayal ignited an uncharacteristic rage in James that could only be assuaged by his fists. Simon offered little resistance, but only when his family stepped in and dragged him away did James stop. Afraid that Simon might perish from the beating, the family tried to send James away for fear he would hang, but he remained in the area until he knew that Simon had survived. He was honourable enough that if he had killed him, he would accept the sentence that would follow. He had not wanted to live at that point, so the prospect of swinging for his crime would not have caused him to run.
When it was clear that Simon would recover, James had a hard decision to make. He loved his family, but he could not bear to be in the same locality as Constance and Simon, so he turned his back on his family and his heritage, presuming he would never return.
What should have happened next was that he met Alice, fell in love, and they lived a contented, uneventful life. Unfortunately, he could never trust any woman after what Constance had done, and although he had every reason to hate her, part of him still clung to what they had shared and how it had felt. She had been his first love, the one he had planned a future with. How could he just switch off his feelings? He was not fickle; when he loved, he loved with his whole heart.
Alice had been the only one since Constance who had made him want a better future, even though he would not allow himself to believe it could happen. Constance had known him for years, accepted his many faults and betrayed him. Why would Alice, a relative stranger, stand by him until their dying day? How could he open himself to the risk of being broken again? There was a whisper inside him that claimed Alice would never do something so cruel, and he thought that with time he might have been willing to take the leap of faith. And then Constance had sent a blasted letter to the place he was staying.
It was a guess on her part. She had clearly seen one of the articles in the newspapers about the new venture Lydia Hesketh was undertaking. He had no idea what Constance had written; he had thrown it in the fire the moment it had been handed to him. But there was no going back, Constance had come back into his life, and it affected everything. Particularly with what could be with Alice.
He smiled as he thought of how she had sent him away. She was a brave little thing, for he knew what her words had cost her. Yes, she had cursed him and demanded that he go and sort out whatever he still felt about Constance, but he could see the sadness she tried to hide. He had told her he would return, but he was not sure she had believed him.
Travelling closer to his beloved Highlands of Scotland, he started to wonder if she knew him better than he knew himself.

***

When James stepped off the final carriage, he stretched and groaned as every part of his body ached. Throwing his bag onto his shoulder, he started the fifteen-mile walk from Aviemore to his home on the outskirts of Grantown-on-Spey. No one was there to meet him, for he had not sent word ahead that he was coming home. If he were being honest with himself, he was not sure what sort of reception he would receive from his family.
He could have easily waved down some farm cart to carry him at least part of the way, but he wanted to walk, to take in the rugged landscape as well as to stretch his legs. As he walked the roads which had been so familiar to him, he almost felt ghostlike, returning to a place he had tried to accept that he would never see again.
The beauty of the Cairngorm mountain range in the distance soothed him as he trudged on. The snow on their tops hinted that winter could be arriving soon and, with it, hard months of living, but it was also the best place to be during the harsh weather. As a child he had been outside whenever the snow had fallen on the lower ground, no matter how cold it was. Playing in the snow was more important than warmth for his friends and himself.
He was disturbed from his reflections by a cart slowing as he walked. “Come home for good, Jimmy?” the gruff voice asked.
James turned to the man, knowing who it was the moment he had spoken. No one else ever called him Jimmy. “I have no idea, Mr MacKinnon,” he replied honestly.
The reply received a nod of understanding. “Aye, but no one blames you for what happened; it was a bad time.”
“It was.” They might live in a very rural area, but news travelled as fast as it did in London.
“Climb aboard,” Mr MacKinnon said. “There’s no use pondering over what cannae be changed, so the sooner you get home the better.”
“I was enjoying the scenery,” James defended himself, but he climbed onto the seat next to the old farmer. When given an instruction by such a well-respected elder, you did as you were bid, however large and intimidating you were.
“You looked a million miles away.”
“Perhaps not so far, but enough miles for it to hurt,” James muttered half to himself. “What have I missed while I’ve been gone?” He did not wish to go over where he had been and what he had been doing since he left, but he was interested to find out the local news, and Mr MacKinnon knew everyone and everything.
“The usual; bickering, bairns being born and old folks dying,” Mr MacKinnon said, chewing on his unlit pipe. “Your da will be glad to see you.”
“I am not sure about that. I brought shame on the family.”
“You reacted like any other man would have. It was a poor way of paying you back for service to the Crown.”
“I could not give two hoots about the Crown,” James said. “I just did not want to be forced into learning French if Napoleon invaded.” It was more complicated than that, but again James was not about to unburden himself to the old man.
James’s words caused a chuckle. “Aye, he was determined to rule the world. He would have got on well with your lass; she wanted the world too.”
“She is not mine.”
“No, she was foolish in that regard. What made you come back? Though it is good that you are here.”
“The past, I suppose, and more importantly, putting it to rest.” James did not want to start explaining about Constance’s letter or Alice, which would not normally be a problem for him, not being one to divulge anything he did not wish to, but Mr MacKinnon had a way of wheedling information out of a person before they realised they had even spoken.
“Aye, that’s always a good thing.” They travelled in comfortable silence until they were about two miles from James’s family home. “This is where we part, Jimmy,” Mr MacKinnon said.
“Thank you for the ride,” James said, jumping off the cart, his bag once more flung on his shoulder.
“It was good to see ye, hope to see ye again soon. Dinnae be dragged down by the past; you had a lucky escape there, boy. One day, ye might be thankful for what happened.”
With a flick of his wrist, the ever-patient horse started to trundle away once more. James was left staring at the disappearing form of Mr MacKinnon, wondering why he would make such a cryptic comment. Eventually, shrugging his shoulders, he turned towards home.