challenged creatively here at Stirling.” A wry smile touched Lennox’s mouth. “Oh, and I almost forgot. My father has taken a new bride.”
Nora gasped. “Are you very surprised?”
He shook his head. “Not really. The duke is determined to have an heir, and since I would not cooperate, he must have taken matters into his own hands. Already my new step-mother is with child.”
“Do you know this woman?”
“A little. She is a great beauty, the daughter of Father’s close friend, Viscount St. John.”
His tone was a bit too casual for Nora’s liking. “I see. Could it be the same woman the duke wanted you to wed?”
“Ye are a perceptive lass.” He smiled into her eyes. “I could not have done it, of course. Father told me once that noblemen like him cannot marry because of ‘romantic notions that fade with time.’ I suppose that was the moment when I realized I could never belong to that world. I had to come back to London, to discover if you would still have me.”
Nora longed to go into his arms, but part of her attention was on Brienne, who was always at risk of taking a tumble. As if reading her mind, Lennox reached out and scooped their daughter onto his lap, holding both mother and child close to his heart.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Before either of them could respond, it flew open to reveal William Brodie. His face was flushed with cold, and snowflakes clung to his heavy cloak and grizzled beard.
“Nora! I have returned.” He paused, his voice choked. “I am not alone.”
“Oh, I am so glad to see you, Father, to know you are safe.” As she rose, a tingling sensation came over her. The scent of lavender faintly touched her nostrils, her memory. Even before William Brodie reached back to bring a woman into view, Nora knew she was about to meet her mother again.
Ada Enloe Brodie had grown older since their parting a dozen years ago, and yet her deep blue eyes, tentative smile, and the delicate hands she extended were all the same.
“Mama.” As Nora rose and crossed the room, time fell away.
“My darling.” Ada began to weep softly as they embraced. Her cheek was cold and damp against Nora’s, and she patted her back, as if to comfort her. “I am so sorry.”
“But I was the one who left you.” It hurt to say the words aloud, to let herself feel it all again after so many years of making herself numb to the separation from her mother.
“Nay, child. Ye were but a wee lass!” declared William Brodie. “Blame me. I forced you to choose between us.” He looked from Nora to little Brienne, who watched with interest from her father’s lap. “Watching ye with your own babe during these past months, I finally faced my crime.”
“Always so dramatic!” Ada shook her head at him and wiped a tear from her eyes. Looking at Nora she explained, “William wrote to me, and fortunately I was still living in the same house in Brussels. When he invited me to sail to Scotland, I could not refuse. In fact, I have waited ten long years for this day.”
For a moment, Nora could not speak. They had been parted when she was beginning a delicate adolescence. Her mother’s absence had been a wound in her heart, but perhaps it was possible for them to weave a new, stronger bond now that Nora was a mother herself.
“Is this only a visit?” Nora dared to ask, looking between her parents. “Or will you stay in Scotland, Mama?”
“We shall see,” Ada replied, glancing toward William. To Nora’s surprise, her father reddened. “I hope to remain here, with my family.”
As they spoke, Lennox rose and carried Brienne across the room, pausing before Nora and her parents.
Nora reached out to draw him closer still. “Mama, I want you to meet Lennox MacLeod, my splendid husband. And this is Brienne Brodie MacLeod…”
Lennox smiled as he finished her sentence. “…our bonny daughter.”
* * *
Thick, wet snowflakes made a lacy curtain beyond the castle windows as Lennox and Grant carried the newest medallion into the tapestry workroom. He had expected the large space to be a hive of activity, as usual, with William Brodie back in charge, sternly ordering his weavers about while Nora guided the project more quietly.
Instead, William was sitting in the corner, seemingly oblivious to the tapestry that was taking shape on the great loom. He bounced Brienne on