Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,47
body, even though they weren’t touching. A part of her longed desperately to be close to him, as they had been before. Perhaps if she touched his arm, he would not notice. Tentatively, she lay her fingers on the rough fabric of his tunic, feeling the iron-hard contour of his bicep, inhaling the masculine tang of his skin.
“Nora.”
His whisper sent a thrill of panic through her. She began to remove her hand from his arm, but his fingers reached out to catch hers, stopping her. His hand was so warm, so strong.
“I’m sorry,” she heard herself say.
“Let me hold ye, lass,” came his soft reply. “’Twill do us both good.”
Gratefully, Nora went into his strong arms. She could feel the power of his heartbeat against her cheek. When he put a hand up to smooth back her unruly curls, she ached for more. Memories returned of the night when Lennox’s fingers and tongue had trailed fire over the most sensitive, secret places on her body, and just thinking of it spread heat to the part of her that longed for him most.
“Sleep,” he whispered, as if reading her mind.
Soon, Nora heard his own breathing change, and she relaxed into his strength, closing her eyes.
* * *
The ancient MacLean stronghold of Duart Castle was built on a misty, emerald-green point of land extending into the waters of the Sound of Mull. As they sailed near in a small galley hired in the fishing village of Oban, Lennox heard Nora give a sigh of appreciation.
“It is magnificent,” she pronounced. “When I was a child, Father spun tales for me at bedtime, of the Scots castles he visited while growing up, yet I could not have imagined this. It is so much more…rugged than what I knew in France and England.”
Lennox wondered if she meant to launch into another unfavorable comparison between the Highlands and Europe, but he said nothing, concentrating instead on catching a wave to bring the boat onto a landing beach. After he’d swung down to push the galley completely out of the water, Lennox paused, his gaze drawn toward the massive bulk of Duart Castle.
He reckoned that he had been eighteen the last time he’d visited the Isle of Mull. Magnus gave him a small, fast galley to mark his birthday, and Ciaran suggested they test its seaworthiness by sailing to Oban. Even then, Lennox reflected, he had felt an urge to wander away from the Isle of Skye.
“Do you know these people?” asked Nora, her eyes scanning the guards who lined the castle walls. “Will they welcome us?”
“I’ve been here before,” he replied distantly. “The guards should not view the mere pair of us as a threat, and once we are inside, Hector Mór, the MacLean, will remember me. I hope.”
With that, Lennox lifted Nora down from the galley and, carrying her satchel, they walked up the green slope toward Castle Duart. Damp winds swirled up from the island’s moors, promising rain. As they drew closer, one of the guards waved, and Lennox raised his own hand in greeting. In the next moment, he saw that several other guards held drawn bows to their shoulders, arrows at the ready, and his heart skipped a beat.
“Hold your arrows,” he shouted. “I am Lennox MacLeod, grandson of the MacLeod of Dunvegan.”
So many thoughts and feelings were swirling inside Lennox as they neared the meters-thick castle walls that he nearly forgot about Nora. It seemed he must have been a different person during that long-ago visit with his brother, Ciaran, so much had changed in his world.
Even as the gates were opened by a half dozen of MacLean’s fierce, burly guards, the heavens opened, and rain poured down.
“Halt,” commanded a hulking, raven-haired man who appeared to be the Captain of the Guard, one hand on the hilt of his great claymore. “Ye will come no further!”
Lennox had started to reach toward his own weapon when he felt Nora grip his arm. She turned her wet face up to him, a flash of alarm in her eyes. It was the first time he’d ever seen her exhibit fear, and suddenly he realized that he might have put her in danger. There was nothing in her past to prepare her for this scene.
“Worry not,” Lennox whispered to her with more assurance than he truly felt. Straightening he turned back to the guards. The others had formed a half-circle, flanking their leader, weapons at the ready.