Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,117
that’s the best I can do during Advent.”
From the wash basin, he sent her a grin that melted her heart. “Aye, love. Brienne and I will be there as soon as she dries my face.”
It was Lennox’s habit, upon returning from work on the great Stirling medallions, to pour fresh water into a basin and clean away the wood dust and paint drops that clung to him. Brienne loved to watch this ritual, laughing when he splashed his face with water, shook his head, and sent droplets flying her way.
Now Lennox carried Brienne to the table, tossing her up in the air to make her squeal in delight. Nora laughed too, awash with joy.
Before they sat down together on the bench, he drew Nora near and kissed her in a way that told her how much he loved and wanted her. “I missed ye today.”
From her chair, Brienne reached out to tug at his plaid. “Me, Da.”
“Oh, aye, wee one, I missed ye, too.”
Nora poured ale for him and put a small cup of fish stew in front of their daughter. As they all began to eat, she told him about the latest developments in the great Prodigal Son tapestry project she was leading for her father. “Will you come later, to see it? I want you to look at the cartoon for the third panel. I’m not certain if it is quite right. With Father away in Edinburgh, you are the only person I trust to save me from making a mistake.”
He reached out to touch the side of her face with his strong, elegant fingers. “Of course I will come, but I do not think ye truly need saving.”
“I will feel better once you look at it.” Nora watched his face as she spoke. “In fact, after the medallions are finished, I wish you could work with me, making the cartoons for our tapestries. I find myself dreaming every day of how wonderful it would be to have you as my partner.” What Nora didn’t say was that she had noticed her father’s eyesight failing, his hands growing gnarled after years of working at the loom, and his attention wandering. Already, she had been sharing the duties of master weaver with her father. The day might not be far away when he would step aside completely.
Lennox cocked his head at her. “Ye do not doubt your own abilities, I hope.”
“No! But I do love working side by side with you.” Leaning closer, she kissed him.
“Why do ye suppose your father went to Edinburgh in the middle of winter?” Lennox mused “He’s been away a full fortnight. Do ye think he has found romance there?”
“Father? I doubt it,” she scoffed. “Although I can’t remember him ever going off on a journey alone like this. He was quite secretive when I asked him about it.”
Lennox pushed his empty plate away. Taking an apple from the bowl in the middle of the table, he remarked, “Speaking of mysterious fathers, I received a letter today from the Duke of Hastings.”
Nora stared. “Indeed! I am surprised a message could get through from England to Scotland since the terrible battle at Solway Moss.”
Just days had passed since they learned of the shocking English victory over King James V and his Scottish troops. The tenuous relationship between James and his uncle, King Henry VIII, had ruptured in late 1541 with the death of Margaret Tudor. Mother to James and sister to Henry, Margaret had been a link that kept the peace between the two countries, but Henry’s patience snapped completely when the young Scots king refused to break from the Catholic church. The ensuing attack by King Henry’s army at Solway Moss resulted in the capture of more than a thousand Scots, including many prominent figures. Now, according to the latest messages brought to Stirling Castle, James V was in seclusion at Falkland Palace, while the queen awaited the birth of their child at Linlithgow.
“It is true that normal relations have ceased between the two countries,” Lennox agreed. He took a folded letter from the pouch at his waist and showed it to her. “The duke must have employed a special courier.”
“What does he say?” Nora wiped a smear of broth from Brienne’s dimpled cheek then set the baby on the floor so she could totter along the bench, holding on. Her proud father predicted that she would be walking by Christmas.
“He wishes us well, of course, and is glad to know I am being