Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,53
and she was eager to dry off and dress. The few garments in her satchel were travel-stained, but perhaps the castle housekeeper, Tilly, would let her do washing today.
After donning a simple long-sleeved gown of cornflower-blue wool, Nora stood looking outside as she tried with limited success to tame her mass of curls under a simple headdress. The view through the deep, narrow window was limited to a rocky green outcropping above the turbulent sea, yet she found it stunning. A wild, misty rain swirled once again, and the Sound of Mull was wave-tossed. Far away, Nora imagined she could see a flash of white sail. Thank heaven she and Lennox had not dared to cross from Oban in such perilous weather!
She was eager to go downstairs and discover what memories, if any, had come to Hector Mór during the night. Would he have an idea about the identity of the man in the miniature? Perhaps they soon would know where they would travel next. It had been easy enough to pretend calm last night, in the face of Lennox’s questions about her own plans for the future, but the truth was that Nora had no idea what lay ahead for her…and her baby.
Chapter 15
When Nora reached the foot of the stairs and emerged into the hall, she was met by a gust of cold wind and saw that the heavy doors were open to the courtyard. The big room had been scrubbed, fresh rushes were strewn on the stone floor, and Hector’s aging wolfhound, Fergus, lay snoring near the fire. As she watched, servants, clad in the sort of fine livery she hadn’t seen since leaving London, hurried in with bundles, satchels, and two small trunks.
Looking through the doorway, Nora glimpsed Hector Mór standing outside in the cobbled courtyard, wet with rain, surrounded by a mixture of rough Highlanders and more of the visiting servants clad in forest-green livery. The English couple Hector had been expecting must have arrived! What should she do? Go out to join them?
Before she could decide, a hand fit itself to the side of her waist, and she whirled around to find Lennox gazing down at her. He looked especially splendid, a blaze of gold in the dank, gray morning. “Hello, wife,” he murmured with faint irony. “I believe the MacLean’s noble guests have returned from Tobermory.”
Remembering the moments when he had touched her in the middle of the night, Nora blushed. She was about to ask where he had been when a striking female appeared in the doorway.
“At last we have arrived!” exclaimed the young woman, drawing back the hood on her scarlet cloak. “Does it never stop raining in Scotland?”
The Countess of Fairhaven was not only beautiful, Nora observed, but also possessed a captivating aura that drew all eyes to her. In her wake trailed a tall, slender man with a long face. He was accompanied by a similarly tall, thin dog that Nora recognized as a greyhound.
Tilly and her housekeeping staff had quickly assembled, and now they curtseyed awkwardly.
“Welcome back, my lady!” exclaimed Tilly as she gestured for one of the girls to take the countess’s sodden cloak. “Your chamber is ready. Would ye care for something hot to eat?”
“Thank you. How kind,” the woman replied, smiling. “Nothing at this time. I’m going to change these garments for dry clothing and rest for a bit.” Turning then, her gaze fell on Nora and Lennox. “It’s quite difficult to believe the season is truly summer.”
Before Nora could reply, Hector Mór rushed up to them, dripping with rain. No sooner had he made formal introductions than the countess smiled warmly and extended a hand to Nora.
“You must call me Cicely. How lovely to meet someone near my own age!” She turned her attention to Lennox, sable-brown eyes agleam with interest. “And you, sir, are the most attractive Highlander I have seen during our endless journey through the wilds of Scotland!”
The Earl of Fairhaven, Cicely’s husband, appeared next to her, the look-alike greyhound at his side. “Fondling, do curb your tongue. You will give this fellow the wrong idea about your intentions,” he scolded.
“Don’t be absurd, Robin.” Cicely merely laughed in his direction.
“Pay no attention to my lovely wife,” said the earl. “My mother was born here in Tobermory, and we brought her north for a visit. In a fortnight’s time, we shall fetch her and return to London.”
“Not a moment too soon,” Cicely parried, a slight edge to her teasing tone.