not realize anything quite so grand existed in Scotland.”
“Aye, that’s part of the reason I wanted to bring ye here to Stirling. Ye know little of your true heritage, lass, and the rest of the world seems to think Scotland is a wild and backward place.”
“I suppose I always had the idea you left here for that very reason,” she said.
Her father shrugged and lifted a cup of wine to his lips, to hide a smile, she suspected. “When I was young, I knew I would have to travel to pursue my dreams. I heard rumors that great art was to be found in Europe. Once I got there and was apprenticed to a fine weaver, I knew I had found my place in the world.”
“And then you met Mama,” Nora interjected.
His eyes grew wintry. “Aye. With your birth, I thought we were making a true family, but your ma could not submit to the will of her husband. She—” Her father broke off with a shake of his head. “Pay no attention to me. This wine has loosened my tongue.”
Farther down their long table, Nora saw Grant sitting with his stepfather and mother, Bayard and Judith de Nieuil. Judith was a beautiful, prickly woman, but Bayard was a warm bear of a man, whom Grant loved like a true father. It seemed Bayard was even able to light a flame inside Judith’s chilly heart.
Nora had learned from Grant that Bayard had been a master mason laboring here at Stirling to build a new palace in the French style. However, when Christophe de St. Briac had arrived in recent weeks from the Isle of Skye, Bayard had gladly relinquished that position to his mentor.
Now, Bayard sat with the newly-reunited St. Briac family, conversing animatedly, while Christophe held his baby son on his lap and fed him bites of roasted lamb. Fiona was there too, looking blissfully happy. When Nora caught her eye, the two women exchanged smiles.
At that moment, Lennox MacLeod entered the hall. Nora saw him immediately. She couldn’t help staring, for he resembled a mythical Norse god come to life. He wore a snow-white linen shirt and a belted plaid, with a sash bisecting his wide, hard chest. A thousand candleflames seemed to illuminate every strand of gold in Lennox’s tousled hair, and the smile he turned her way made her feel lightheaded. Nora dared to smile back as he took a seat next to Grant, though she knew she shouldn’t. Any contact with this man was dangerous, like reaching out to recklessly touch a flame.
“Ah, at last we meet,” a voice murmured into her ear.
Startled, Nora came back to reality. She glanced up to see the dark, curly-haired man from the courtyard, bending down to make himself heard. Before she could think of a response, her father spoke.
“’Tis Sir Raymond Slater, am I right?” William boomed. “’Twas your ship that brought the magnificent unicorn tapestries and our grand new loom to Scotland. My name is William Brodie. My daughter Nora and I are the tapisiers who are charged with caring for those treasures.” He looked expectantly at Nora. “Lass, will ye not give thanks to this fine man?”
Before she could speak, Slater was sweeping off his peacock-feathered cap. “Mistress Brodie, it is I who must speak words of appreciation. Your exquisite beauty illuminates this entire hall.”
Nora rose to stand before him, feeling more uncertain than shy. “You are too kind, sir.” Yet she couldn’t help basking in the realization that she looked pretty in this, the single fine gown she owned. Fashioned of pearl-gray velvet and white silk, it had been a gift from a female weaver in London. Nora suspected the lady, named Marianne, had felt sorry for Nora with only William to look after her. Her father had scoffed when Nora unwrapped the gown, saying she would never have good reason to wear such a creation, but tonight when she emerged from her chamber in the pearl-gray gown, he’d beamed.
“Ye will put the queen to shame, lass,” William had said proudly.
And she did look pretty. The gown accentuated Nora’s rich, coppery locks and striking blue eyes. Usually, her looks were the farthest thing from her mind, but tonight was different.
“Will ye share a cup of wine with us?” William asked the Englishman.
Sir Raymond Slater nodded and took a seat beside Nora. He was richly garbed in a jerkin of sapphire-blue velvet trimmed with gold braid, worn over a slashed, blue-and-bronze doublet, and Nora couldn’t help