Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts Book 5) Read online

  Before dawn, Nora rose and washed one more time. She was grateful to feel numb again, for if she stopped to truly consider what she was doing, she might have wept. All her life, her father had been her guide and often her only friend, the one person who understood her. It would break his heart, she knew, to find that she had run away.

  Yet there simply was no other choice. It was impossible to tell her father the truth of her situation, impossible to stay at Stirling Castle while carrying Sir Raymond’s bastard. During the many nights she’d lain awake, it had occurred to Nora that she might say that Slater had forced himself on her, but the entire court seemed to be so dazzled by him, who would believe her?

  And so Nora stood just inside the doorway to her chamber, wrapped in her green cloak, clutching her satchel, feeling sick. She prayed that she was right about Lennox MacLeod, that his word was good and he would come for her. Licking her dry lips, she glanced back at the letter to her father. It lay fairly glowing against the deep blue cover of her bed.

  Where was Lennox? Had she misjudged him, and he had decided to go without her?

  Just then, a candle flame flickered from the direction of the workroom. As it danced over the shadowed wall, coming closer, Nora thought her heart might cease beating.

  “What’s this all about?” cried William Brodie, looming up in the doorway to her chamber. “Where do ye think you’re going, lass?”

  Chapter 10

  Nora met her father’s challenging stare, speechless, wishing she could make herself invisible. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt certain he must be able to hear it.

  William Brodie’s eyes were moving over her, touching on her satchel, her cloak, the letter on her bed. “I demand an answer,” he rumbled. “What the devil is happening?”

  Just then, a soft tap came at the outer door. Nora’s heart leaped with a mixture of relief and trepidation, for it was her father who wheeled around to throw open the portal. There stood Lennox, looking quite undismayed by the sight of a red-faced William Brodie.

  “So ye are to blame for this!” thundered the older man. “Ye doubtless intend to dishonor my daughter, MacLeod, but I will see you dead first!”

  Nora watched, stunned, as Lennox gave a reassuring smile and put a hand on her father’s arm. “Dishonor? Never. In truth, I mean to protect her.”

  “Do ye think to trick me? Get out!”

  Instead of obeying, Lennox stepped into the room and looked at Nora, sending her a message with his eyes. She went forward, trusting him somehow to carry them safely through this stormy drama.

  “Father,” she said, “it is not what you are thinking.”

  Lennox reached for her hand and put it through the crook of his elbow. “Aye, sir. If ye will only attend me—”

  Nora felt as if her heart might tear in two as Father grasped her other arm and tugged, glaring at her.

  “Take your hands off my daughter!” Brodie was shouting now, heedless that he might wake others in the palace.

  “Calm yourself and do Nora the honor of listening to what we have to say.”

  “Nora? Ye have no right to use her Christian name!”

  “That will soon change,” Lennox replied calmly.

  It was Nora’s turn to stare at him in surprise. What could he possibly mean? Before she could form a question, the Highlander smiled down at her and touched a tanned finger to her lips.

  “Nay, love, do not protest. Your father deserves to know to the truth.” Looking back at William Brodie, Lennox said, “I am in love with your daughter and mean to make her my wife.”

  The older man’s face reddened in shock. “Bah!” he spat. “If that were true, why would ye spirit her away in the hour before dawn, without coming to me as a man of honor and asking for her hand? And why would my lass run off without so much as a farewell to her father?”

  “Ye pose a reasonable question, sir.” Lennox rubbed his jaw. After glancing again toward Nora, he said, “As it happened, there was simply no time. I was called away from Stirling on a family matter of great urgency…”

  At last, Nora saw an opening in the conversation that she could fill. “And when Lennox broke the news to me that he must leave at dawn, I realized I could not bear for us to be parted again, especially so soon after his journey to Falkland Palace. I begged him to take me with him without fully considering any of the consequences.”

  “Oh, did ye indeed?” shouted her father. “I think ye have gone mad! What about your calling? The gift ye have nurtured since ye were a wee lass, always proclaiming that weaving meant far more than any trifling dreams of romance?” He paused, breathing hard. “If ye meant to run away with this wild Highlander, why did ye berate me about becoming a weaver at the new loom?”

  “Wild?” Lennox echoed, raising one tawny brow. “A rash judgment, sir.”

  “Allow me to speak,” Nora said, raising a hand. “Father, you may recall that when I spoke strongly to you about my aspiration to become a master weaver, you told me it could not be. You said the dream I had nurtured since I was a child was impossible, simply because I am a woman, not because I lack the skill.”

  At this, to her aggravation, her father gave Lennox a sidelong glance, as if to exchange a commonly-held belief about females. “This slip of a lass cannot seem to understand that a true weaver must possess a great deal of physical strength in order to operate that great loom.”

  “You see?” cried Nora. “All my life you encouraged my dreams, but when the time came for me to reach out and make them come true, you found many reasons why it could not be!”

  She saw real, raw pain flash in his eyes. “Is that a reason to leave me and everything we have shared since the day you were born?”

  For a moment, Nora wavered. Perhaps it was truly mad to run away with Lennox MacLeod, to abandon her father and the world of tapestry weaving to which she was so deeply devoted. But in the next breath, she remembered the babe Sir Raymond Slater had put in her. It would be far worse for William Brodie to discover that shocking and shameful secret than to think she had left because she’d fallen in love with Lennox. And even if she did tell the truth and Father could somehow understand, it would be impossible to hide her condition or explain the babe to the rest of the royal court.

  “Father, you said it yourself. At the royal court, weaving tapestries is a man’s domain. Perhaps, in my future with Lennox, I can find another place to apply my skills as a weaver.”

  Defeat, then grief flashed across William Brodie’s face. Nora feared he might weep, but then his strong chin jutted out, and he stared defiantly at Lennox. “If ye think I will allow ye to lure my daughter away and defile her, ye are sorely mistaken!”

  As Lennox regarded the older man, Nora waited, wondering what he could possibly say to that.

  “I am no defiler of innocent lasses,” he replied evenly. “I love your daughter and intend to marry her.”

  Nora pressed her lips together to suppress a stunned gasp. Good God, what was Lennox saying? And now that he had spoken so rashly, how could he undo such words later?

  His jaw still out-thrust, William nodded angrily. “Aye! And well you should wed, before ye leave Stirling Castle.”

  Lennox took Nora’s arm again. “I fear there is no time now. A family crisis demands that we depart now, but we shall have a proper wedding very soon.”

  “I know a remedy for this,” her father persisted, reaching again for Nora’s other arm. He tugged on her. “Ye will handfast. Now. With me as the witness!”

  She looked at Lennox, expecting him to finally admit the truth: that he had no desire to take Nora with him, let alone wed her, and now he would be on his way, leaving father and daughter to sort out their problems alone.

  Instead, Lennox continued to study William Brodie. “Handfast?” he echoed with a hint of challenge.

  “I may have spent most of my life in Flanders and England, but I was born a Scotsman.” Her father narrowed his eyes at Lennox. “Surely, as a mighty Highlander, ye know all
about handfasting!”

  “What does it mean?” Nora queried nervously.

  “Your bridegroom is in a great hurry, so let us demonstrate rather than explain,” her father said. He wore the expression of a cat who has cornered a particularly elusive mouse. “’Tis simple enough.”

  If Lennox was disturbed by this unexpected turn of events, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he took Nora’s hand in his and put his other around her waist. It was comforting to feel the strength of his fingers.

  “Your da is quite right,” he murmured with a grim smile. “We should say our vows for him to hear.”

  “Go on then,” William Brodie folded his arms over his chest, watching them with an air of suspicion.

  “Nora Brodie, I take thee to my wife,” Lennox said simply.

  She blinked, waiting for more. What sort of ceremony was this, without a church, an altar, or a priest?

  “Now ye must say it, lass,” commanded her father. “It’s what ye want, is it not?”

  Tears stung her eyes. Lennox squeezed her hand encouragingly, and Nora wondered why he was being so kind, so good to her.

  “Just repeat the vow back to me,” he whispered. “Then we can go.”

  She drew a deep breath and said, “Lennox MacLeod, I take thee to my husband.”

  Her father paled. “Aye, then. It’s done.” He made a dismissing motion, and Nora saw his hand tremble. “Farewell, daughter.”

  It came to her then how severe this rupture in her life truly was. She ached to put her arms around her father and tell him she loved him, that he had been her rock, her mentor, her guide through life. But already he was turning away, head bowed, and she knew that anything further from her would only twist the knife in his heart.

  “Let’s be away,” Lennox said in a low, firm voice. Picking up her satchel, he clasped her elbow through the green wool of her cloak and guided her to the door.

  Just as they passed through the portal, Nora looked back and saw her father angled in profile, watching them go. He suddenly looked like an old man. Impulsively, Nora called out, “Father… I left a letter for you, on my bed.”

  Shaking his head, William Brodie averted his face again. “I no longer know ye. Be gone from me.”

  Nora heard the catch in his voice, but what could she do? Instead, drawing a deep breath, she stepped off into a future filled with secrets, half-truths, and uncertainty.

  Chapter 11

  As the first light of dawn crept over the castle walls, masons began to assemble in the courtyard. Lennox guided Nora along the shadowed, colonnaded gallery, heading toward the stables. He tried to stay out of sight, for the last thing he wanted was an encounter with any of his family. How could he possibly explain Nora’s presence by his side?

  Glancing over at Nora, Lennox saw that she had retreated inside herself. She had drawn the edges of her green hood closer to her face, and her expression was pensive, even troubled. Did she feel ignored by him at a time when she might need reassurance?

  “I don’t mean to be cold,” he said in a low voice. “I just want to us to be away.”

  Nora looked over in surprise, almost as if she had forgotten he existed. “Oh, yes. Of course, I am feeling the same.”

  Soon enough, Lennox brought Chaucer out of the stable and into the Nether Bailey. He turned to Nora and gestured toward the padded pillion that he’d attached behind his saddle.

  “We must ride together for now.”

  Lennox was surprised to see her cheeks go charmingly pink, and suddenly their situation was tinged with pleasure.

  “I am grateful to you for taking me away, and I shan’t complain of any discomfort.” She bit her lip and her blush deepened. “Not that riding with you would be unpleasant.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it.” He gave her a wry, tentative smile and put both hands around her waist, preparing to assist her up to Chaucer’s back.

  “MacLeod!” a male voice shouted from behind them. “Lennox MacLeod!”

  He groaned. “I knew it would be impossible for us to depart unnoticed.” Turning, Lennox saw his brother-in-law emerging through the ancient north gate that opened to the outer close. “Did we not make our farewells last night?”

  Christophe de St. Briac came toward them. Clad in a worn doublet of dark leather, he lightly held a small chisel in one hand. “We did indeed, and so I was not surprised to see you pass through the courtyard this morning without another word to me,” the Frenchman said before turning his crisp, blue eyes on Nora. “And then I saw Mistress Brodie. When you told Fiona and the rest of us that you meant to go to Duart Castle, you forgot to mention that you would have a traveling companion.” He arched a brow for emphasis.

  Lennox felt Nora watching him, waiting to see how he would respond. He stared back at Christophe and cursed himself for allowing his family to think they had the right to intrude into his private life.

  “Nora is coming with me,” Lennox began. “We are…wed. I cannot explain now, but ye may tell my sister that I’ll send word soon.”

  “You two are wed?” Christophe replied, cocking his dark head in disbelief.

  “Aye, we are! But I can say no more at this time. We must be away.” Lennox was relieved when his brother-in-law took a step backward.

  “Eh bien.” Christophe’s gaze traveled to Nora. “I wonder how our friend Grant will take this news?”

  Nora spoke up. “I do not think Grant will be shocked by this turn of events,” she said in a firm voice. “Please encourage him to take some time and consider everything that has happened in recent weeks.”

  What the devil was that supposed to mean? Shaking his head, Lennox extended a hand to Christophe. “Fear not. All will be well.”

  “I hope you are right,” Christophe said. “Bonne chance, mon frère.”

  As they mounted Chaucer’s back and started through the North Gate, Lennox glanced back to see his brother-in-law still rooted to the same spot, watching them go. When would he be with Christophe and Fiona again? Perhaps his entire life would be different when that day came…

  Nora was warm against Lennox’s broad back, her woolen skirts and kirtle hiked up so she could sit astride. As Chaucer passed the guards and left Stirling Castle behind, Lennox thought he could feel her sigh against him. When they were safely away and slowly descending the steep, twisting lanes of Stirling, he paused before a turning, drew in on the reins, and looked back at her.

  “Are ye all right?”

  Nora met his gaze, and Lennox was struck by her gleaming, cornflower-blue eyes, rich with emotions he could only guess at. Softly she asked, “Why did you do it?”

  He blinked. “Do what, lass?”

  “Tell my father that you wanted to wed me, that you loved me.” With each word she spoke, more rosy color washed her cheeks.

  “Because it seemed the only way,” Lennox said honestly. “We were caught.”

  “But…the vows. What do you call it?”

  “Handfasting.” He gave her a rueful smile.

  “Can it truly be that we are lawfully wed?”

  “Aye. That’s the way of it in Scotland.” He felt intensely curious to know what Nora was thinking. What desperate secret had driven her to beg for his protection? And now that they had exchanged vows, did the notion of being his wife repel her? It was ironic to consider that although many lasses had pursued him, he had never come close to settling down with any of them. “Fear not. Handfasting need not be binding. But knowing we exchanged vows set your da’s mind at ease, and we can travel together as man and wife.” Seeing her eyes widen, Lennox added, “It will help to keep you safe.”

  Dark clouds were gathering in the western sky, bringing with them a chill, gusty wind. Chaucer lifted his proud head, sniffing for rain, as Nora’s hood slipped back to reveal a cloud of brandy-hued curls. How lovely she was, Lennox thought. An alluring blend of vulnerability, determination, and mystery. A sudden desire to kiss her mouth came over him like a warning.

  “Get out the way!”
shouted a scrawny boy as he passed them, driving a handful of goats down the rutted lane.

  “The journey to Oban will be long,” Lennox said, turning his body forward again. “We should be on our way—unless ye have changed your mind?”

  “No,” came Nora’s reply. He felt her move more closely against him. “I must go. There is no other choice for me.”

  * * *

  Cool, misty rains swirled around them throughout the day, as Chaucer carried Nora and Lennox away from Stirling and into a picturesque series of wooded hills and glens. They spoke little, for each time they stopped, Lennox complained that the weather was slowing them down and they must not tarry. He had planned well, she discovered, packing bannocks, cheese, and plums. He made certain there was always a stream nearby to furnish long drinks of cold water.

  “How did you manage to do all of this, in the short time between our conversation in your rooms and the time we left this morning?” she asked once, as he handed her another piece of cheese and a bannock.

  “All of this?” Lennox gave a sardonic snort. “I made no additional preparations, but went back to sleep after you left me last night. We are eating only the food I brought for myself, when I thought I was traveling alone.”

  “But…” Nora bit her lip, considering. “Will there be enough?”

  “Enough for today, at least,” he said ruefully. “Fear not. I will see to it that we don’t starve, but it’s also important that we make haste to reach Duart Castle.”

  Questions intruded in Nora’s mind, but she pushed them away. If she began to doubt Lennox or even consider what lay ahead in her own future, she feared she’d drown in a wave of fear. It was far more pleasant to live in the moment, enjoying the fantasy of running away with her splendid, handfasted husband.

  They rode for hours, pausing only to let Chaucer rest and drink from streams that rushed by. Nora kept waiting for Lennox to turn onto a better road so that they might find proper lodging for the night, but they continued on rutted, muddy tracks, the only sign of civilization being the occasional thatched roof of a croft house in the distance.