Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,22

out to accept the small offering, Lennox let his fingers gently graze her palm. “You are going away?” she asked, glancing at his bundle.

“Aye. I’m bound for Falkland Palace, to see my aunt.”

“I wish you a safe journey.”

As she started to turn away, Lennox put a hand on her arm. “I will return, Nora. I still hope to visit your workroom, to speak to you about your weaving and learn more about the unicorn tapestries.” Then he dared to touch her pale cheek with his forefinger. Softly, he asked, “I sense that ye are troubled. Can I help?”

Nora lifted her chin and summoned a smile. “Worry not, sir. I am not myself this morning, but I shall recover. Do you never have days when your spirits flag?”

Slowly, Lennox nodded. “I do indeed have such days. More than anyone knows.” He fought an urge to offer more comfort, even to gather her into his arms, but instead simply returned her smile. “I hope that whatever burden ye carry will soon lighten.”

With that, Lennox stepped away from Nora Brodie and started down the cobbled pathway leading to the kitchen. When he glanced back and lifted a hand in farewell, he expected the lass to have gone on her way.

However, Nora stood rooted to the spot, looking wistful, even lost, as she watched him go.

* * *

When Lennox approached the stables, eating the last of the warm oatcake the cooks had given him, he saw a gathering of men. Holding the reins of their horses, they shuffled their feet impatiently.

“When is the captain coming?” complained one, craning his head to look toward a small group of storage buildings behind the kitchen.

“When he is good and ready!” replied another.

“Perhaps you mean good and finished,” said a third, guffawing.

They were Slater’s men, Lennox realized, as a chill crept over him. Something was not right. A rustling sound, followed by a muffled female protest, reached his ears. Lennox started off toward the voice.

“Don’t go that way, sir,” called Slater’s young groom. Winking, he added, “Ye might disturb the captain before he’s finished swiving.”

Lennox dropped the food he had been eating and walked toward a narrow space between the buildings. Turning into the passageway, he saw onions spilling across the ground beside an overturned basket.

Just out of sight, an anguished voice implored, “I beg ye cease, sir! I am newly married. I love my husband!”

Fury rose up in Lennox as he rounded the corner. There, a plump, red-cheeked young woman was pinned against the wall of rubble stone, her white cap askew, her skirts and apron pushed up to her waist. In front of her, Sir Raymond Slater was grabbing between her legs, as if he had every right to invade the most intimate part of her body.

With his other hand, the Englishman pulled at her bodice, exposing one of her breasts. The kitchen maid began to weep as Slater warned, “Quiet! Someone will hear, and then all the castle will know you are a trollop, wandering about alone, inviting the attentions of lusty men like me.”

Her eyes were squeezed tightly closed. “Please, sir.”

“That’s better,” he approved, pretending to misunderstand her meaning. “All women want me. You should be thanking me.”

The Englishman was fumbling to untie his codpiece when Lennox came up softly behind him and pushed the point of his sharpened dirk into his back. “Unhand the lass and turn around.”

Clearly shocked, Slater obeyed, hands raised as he swiveled to face him. To Lennox’s disgust, the man’s red, semi-erect penis was exposed. Their eyes met, Slater’s flashing with defiance while Lennox could only stare in contempt.

“My good fellow, perhaps you misunderstand this situation,” the Englishman said with what was doubtless meant to be a roguish, man-to-man grin. “Surely you can see I wasn’t harming the wench. Quite the opposite! You know how it is, they always pretend to protest, but in truth the chit wants it more than I do.”

Lennox would not reply to Slater’s repellant comments. To the cowering servant, he said kindly, “Mistress, straighten your skirts, pick up your basket, and go back to the kitchen. Ye may rest easy; no one will hear a word of this.”

Her hands shook as she rearranged her clothing and hastened off through a door at the back of the building. Lennox looked around to see Slater’s men clustered together at the end of the passageway. Wide-eyed, they watched their worldly captain’s humiliation at the hands of a Highlander.

“Go on, then.” Lennox nudged Sir Raymond Slater with the