The Highlander and the Wallflower
Page 1
She’s been living in the shadows...
Can he draw her out?
Since a traumatic incident, Lady Regina has consigned herself to the shadows. Fearful of marriage and intimacy, she reluctantly accepts the engagement her father insists upon. But when her husband-to-be deserts her, her old friend Dalton, Lord Camford, takes up the role! Dalton gradually starts to reach the woman within and draw out her desires. Just as it seems Regina’s life is coming together...will her secret cause it all to fall apart?
Untamed Highlanders
The temptation of the wild...
Meet these wild Regency Highlanders, who have grown from unlikely friends and mischief makers at boarding school to some of Scotland’s most powerful men.
With a tendency to break every rule in the book, this time these Highland lords might have to break their own rules to claim the women who try to tame them!
Read Lachlan and Frances’s story in
The Highlander and the Governess
And Dalton and Lady Regina’s story in
The Highlander and the Wallflower
Available now!
Author Note
The Highlander and the Wallflower is a friends-to-lovers story that I hope you’ll enjoy! Dalton St. George is a bold Highlander who’s in love with Lady Regina, but she is betrothed to his best friend. Honor compels him to hide his feelings, but he sees that her shy wallflower demeanor is nothing like the outgoing girl he once knew. Instead, Lady Regina is hiding secrets—and when trouble strikes, Dalton won’t hesitate to become her hero.
Did you miss Lachlan MacKinloch and Frances Goodson’s prequel story? If so, then you might enjoy reading The Highlander and the Governess next. Last, if you’d like me to email you when my new books come out, you may subscribe to my author newsletter at michellewillingham.com/contact. I always love hearing from my readers.
MICHELLE WILLINGHAM
The Highlander and the Wallflower
RITA® Award finalist and Kindle bestselling author Michelle Willingham has written over forty historical romances, novellas and short stories. Currently she lives in southeastern Virginia with her family and her beloved pets. When she’s not writing, Michelle enjoys reading, baking and avoiding exercise at all costs. Visit her website at michellewillingham.com.
Books by Michelle Willingham
Harlequin Historical
Untamed Highlanders
The Highlander and the Governess
The Highlander and the Wallflower
Sons of Sigurd
Stolen by the Viking
Warriors of the Night
Forbidden Night with the Warrior
Forbidden Night with the Highlander
Forbidden Night with the Prince
Warriors of Ireland
Warrior of Ice
Warrior of Fire
Forbidden Vikings
To Sin with a Viking
To Tempt a Viking
Visit the Author Profile page
at Harlequin.com for more titles.
To my new friends, the class of 46! I have really enjoyed getting to know all of you, and thanks to Tony, Frank, Jay and Laura for the amazing leadership retreat. Thanks to Elizabeth, Kathryn and Edna for your help as I’ve begun this new journey, and for patiently answering all my questions.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from Vows to Save Her Reputation by Christine Merrill
Prologue
Scotland—1806
His brother was dead.
Dalton St George walked out of the church, feeling as if his guts were frozen within a block of ice. His parents were in shock, grieving at the sudden loss of their heir, only two days ago. For him, it was a sense that nothing was real. He could almost imagine his responsible brother opening the casket, sitting up, and apologising for the inconvenience of dying.
His guilt churned in his stomach, and he slipped away from the mourners, not wanting to see his brother buried. No one noticed that he’d left.
Then again, no one ever really noticed him. Brandon had always been the beloved son, whereas Dalton was the black sheep of the family. He hadn’t cared. There was glorious freedom in being able to do whatever he wanted. He was eighteen years old—independent and carefree.
He had lived a lifetime of unbridled sin over the past year, indulging in whatever he wanted. No one cared if he disappeared at midnight and didn’t return until dawn.
Once or twice, he wondered if they would notice if he didn’t come back at all. But then again, he’d been the spare son, hardly of any importance. He’d spent most of his time in Scotland while Brandon had been fulfilling his duties as Viscount Camford and the future Earl of Brevershire.
Dalton trudged through the tall summer grasses, loathing the blackcloth coat and waistcoat he’d been forced to wear. He unbuttoned them both and tossed the garments on the ground, still walking towards the loch. The morning sun was hotter than usual, and it blazed across a brilliant blue sky. The day was flawless—except that they were burying his brother.
A raw ache spread through his heart. His saintly brother had paid attention to him, though Brandon had never understood Dalton’s intense need to cast off the trappings of nobility and wander through the Highlands. And now, he would never again hear Brandon’s calm voice, chiding him not to do something reckless.
Right now, he wanted to be reckless. He wanted to tear off the rest of his clothes and swim in the loch until his muscles burned. He needed the frigid water to punish him as he churned through the surface.
His face was wet, though he didn’t know when he’d begun to weep. Strange, that he could feel so numb inside, and yet, he had managed to grieve.
From behind him, he thought he heard footsteps. He didn’t turn around, not wanting to see who had followed him. But a moment later, his foxhound, Laddie, pressed his nose against Dalton’s leg.
The animal’s compassion was his undoing. He knelt on the ground, clutching the dog’s smooth body as the loss roared through him. He was utterly alone. And God above, he wished that it had been him who had died. It should have been his heart that had stopped beating, not Brandon’s. He could never be the man his brother had been, selfless and kind.
He heard the whisper of moving grass behind him, and Laddie barked a warning. This time, he did turn around. A young woman, hardly older than himself, stood behind him, her red hair slipping free from her braid. Clear blue eyes the colour of the sky’s reflection stared at him with sympathy. She had an otherworldly beauty, as if she’d been conjured from the water.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked. His dog went to sniff at her feet, and his tail wagged in approval.
Dalton didn’t even know how to answer that. No, he wasn’t all right. But she could do nothing to help, so there was little point in answering. He swiped at his eyes, not wanting her to see him like this. All he could do was nod.
‘I am Regina Crewe,’ she said quietly. ‘My father is the Earl of Havershire. We were visiting friends
at Locharr when we heard about your brother’s death. My father thought we should stop and offer our sympathies.’
Dalton nodded. Vaguely he recalled seeing Tavin MacKinloch, the Laird of Locharr, among the guests, along with his wife. ‘Was Lachlan gone, then?’ he asked. If Lachlan had been in Scotland, he would have attended the funeral. They had been schoolmates and friends for years.
‘He was, yes. But the laird thought we should come.’
He nodded again, not really knowing what to say. The heaviness of grief had stolen away his ability to hold a conversation.
‘I don’t think you and I have met before,’ Lady Regina continued. ‘I would have remembered.’ A faint blush stained her cheeks, and then she added, ‘You still haven’t told me your name. Though I think I know who you are.’
‘I am Dalton St George,’ he told her.
‘Then I was right,’ she answered. ‘I guessed who you were, after I saw you leave.’ Her face turned soft with sympathy. ‘I know I should have stayed for the burial, but... I didn’t think you should be off alone.’ Her words trailed off. ‘I am sorry you lost your brother.’
He gave a third nod, feeling like he was made of stone.
‘I’m not supposed to be here without a chaperon,’ she said, but there was a tinge of irony in her tone. ‘My mother would be furious. You won’t tell, will you?’
‘No. I won’t tell.’ It was strange to be so tongue-tied around this beautiful creature. He’d flirted and laughed with many of the village girls before he’d stolen kisses or enjoyed their charms. But the earl’s daughter reminded him of a princess, so far out of his reach. Around her throat she wore an amethyst necklace on a silver chain. She couldn’t be older than sixteen.
Lady Regina walked towards the edge of the loch, where several large limestone boulders lined the shore. His dog scampered at her side, and she laughed, leaning down to ruffle his ears. Laddie rolled to his back for her to rub his belly, and she glanced back at him. ‘I’ve always loved dogs. They seem to know people better than anyone.’
He watched as she picked up a stone and hurled it as far as she could. It sank beneath the water with a loud splash.
‘Why did you follow me?’ he asked.
‘Because I saw your grief, and it bothered me. So I came.’
Her words seem to reach deep within him, and he stared at her in disbelief. This girl had noticed his sorrow and wanted to console him. He hardly knew what to say or do. But her presence was an unexpected balm.
Before he could say another word, she added, ‘Show me how far you can throw a rock.’
‘Why?’ he asked, feeling stupid at the question.
‘Because it’s a good distraction. We’ll stay a little while, and we won’t go back until it’s over.’
Until his brother was buried, she meant. Numbly, he nodded and picked up a stone. He threw it as far as he could, and it landed deep in the loch. Then he found another and threw it hard. This time, it didn’t travel as far, but the splash was stronger.
‘It’s all right to be angry,’ she told him.
And with that, cold rage came rushing out. He was angry. Angry that someone as good as his brother should die so young. It wasn’t right or fair.
Dalton let the next rock fall from his hands, and suddenly, she reached for his hand. Though she wore gloves, he could feel the warmth of her palm in his.
He gripped her hand, as if she were a lifeline. This girl’s quiet strength was what he needed right now. And as he stood beside her, he felt that, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t alone.
Chapter One
Seven years later
Dalton St George, Viscount Camford, was in love with his best friend’s fiancée.
Oh, there was no doubting that it was wrong. He knew that. But trying to shut off his feelings for Lady Regina was like trying to stop breathing. She was the reason he’d stayed in London, instead of retreating to his grandfather’s country estate in Scotland.
Some called her the Lady of Ice because she refused to speak with most men. Others called her a wallflower, for she rarely danced or conversed in public. They mistook her painful shyness for a haughty demeanour. But Dalton knew her better. There were secrets behind those deep blue eyes, as if she had suffered humiliation and wanted to remain in the shadows. Something had happened to her since the day they had met, years ago, but he could not say what it was.
Right now, she was standing at the back of the ballroom, watching over the crowd of people. Her straight red hair was pulled into a tight arrangement at the base of her nape, and she wore a light grey gown the colour of a pearl. Around her throat hung a sapphire necklace with another teardrop pearl suspended. She fluttered her lace fan, but her attention had drifted elsewhere as if she were dreaming.
Look, but don’t touch, his brain warned. You’re not the right man for her.
He knew she was meant to marry Lachlan MacKinloch. Their meddling fathers had planned an informal betrothal a few years ago. Sometimes he imagined what it would be like to steal her away. But he would never do that to a friend—especially his best friend. And more than that, he didn’t believe he was the sort of man she’d want anyway. He wasn’t the honourable viscount who always knew the proper way to behave. Despite his efforts to fill his brother’s role, nothing he’d ever said or done had been good enough. And so, he revelled in impulse, hardly caring for the consequences any more.
He took a few moments to indulge in the sight of her beauty. Just being near Regina brought out his protective nature, though she knew nothing of his feelings. If anything, he’d done his best to drive her away, to ensure that she never suspected the truth.
It was safer if she didn’t like him at all.
When she glanced up, her eyes met his. Dalton winked, knowing it would make her blush. And indeed, it did. His conscience warned him to leave her alone, but when had he ever listened to good sense? Instead, he crossed the ballroom to stand before her. He bowed lightly. ‘Lady Regina.’
‘Lord Camford.’ She gave a slight nod of acknowledgement but said nothing else, not even looking at him. He didn’t speak for a time, simply enjoying her nearness. Her skin smelled of flowers and a hint of rose. What he wouldn’t give to press his mouth against that silken skin.
When he continued to stand before her, at last she enquired, ‘Was there something you wanted?’
Aye. He wanted her. Preferably upon a bed, wearing nothing except a smile. But since he couldn’t actually say that, he remarked, ‘I heard that Lachlan is coming to London within a fortnight.’
‘He is, yes.’ The flush deepened across her cheeks, and he didn’t know what that meant. Was she happy about it? Or afraid?
Jealousy speared his gut, and Dalton waited for her to say more. When she didn’t continue, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, ‘Are you happy about the betrothal?’
She didn’t answer at first. But when he studied her expression, he saw a hint of sadness. He couldn’t quite understand what that meant, but he wanted to believe she held reservations about the marriage.
And yet, what good was it, even if it were true? It wasn’t as if she would transfer her affections to him.
Eventually, she answered, ‘The laird hasn’t asked me to wed him yet, though it’s what my father wants.’
‘And what is it that you want, Lady Regina?’
She stiffened. ‘I want to be left alone. By everyone.’ Her mouth tightened, and she added, ‘I would like nothing better than to be away from London and the rest of the world.’
‘Shipwrecked upon an island?’ he suggested.
That did soften her frustration. ‘That sounds wonderful.’ A slight smile curved at her lips. ‘With nothing but sand and seashells all around me.’
He didn’t tell her that it sounded lonely or that he wished he could be in a place like that with her. Instead, he changed the
subject. ‘Sadly, there is no sand to be found here. But we could stroll around the room and avoid everyone, if you like.’
She placed her hand on his arm. ‘I suppose.’
As promised, he kept to the edges of the room and took the conversation lead, allowing her to relax. He spoke in a continuous stream about this person and that, so she wouldn’t have to speak unless she wanted to. A few moments later, a gentleman stepped in front of them. He couldn’t recall the man’s name, but Dalton thought he was a baron or a knight.
‘You’d better be careful, Camford,’ the man remarked. With a glance towards Dalton’s arm where Lady Regina’s hand rested, he added, ‘Your fingers might freeze off.’ He laughed heartily at his own remark and then stepped aside. Dalton considered shoving the man against the wall and bloodying his nose, but Regina pressed her fingers against his arm and shook her head, leading him past the man.
‘Ignore him,’ she said softly. ‘It’s nothing I’m not already used to.’
Dalton’s mood darkened, for she deserved better than to be treated so cruelly. ‘He has no right to speak of you in that way.’
She raised an eyebrow at the insult and shrugged. ‘I refused to let him pay a call on me. He’s only bitter.’
‘He wasn’t good enough for you.’
She shrugged. ‘I saw no reason to let him believe he had a chance at marrying me.’
‘Because of Lachlan?’ he asked quietly.
‘He was only interested in my dowry. I’ve known many men like him. They’re all the same.’ She kept her gaze fixed ahead, but he touched her fingers lightly with his gloved hand.
‘You don’t want to be married, do you?’ he said. He didn’t truly expect her to answer, but she surprised him when she did.
‘No.’ Her voice was soft, with a fearful edge. ‘But I have no choice.’
An invisible pain seemed to cloak her, and he couldn’t stop the surge of protectiveness that rose over him. When he’d first met her, she had been adventurous and bold, throwing rocks into the loch to see how far they would go. But now, all that had changed.