Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,70

stairs again, leaving him no choice but to join her. “So much is happening today, and you know I have not been feeling well. I will be glad to have a quiet respite to myself.”

“We had so little time together during the voyage here.” He looked stung. “I’ve missed ye, lass, and I am a stranger here in this city.”

Nora could have wept. “I have missed you, too. But please, just for now, say nothing—” She broke off when one of the footmen appeared at the top of the stairs, clearly wondering what had happened to them. “There will be time enough later to say we are wed, but for now I long to go to my room and lie down for a bit. I have a feeling it will be an eventful evening.”

Upstairs, the young footman whom Throgmorton had addressed at Bartholomew opened a heavy oak door and announced, “Your chamber, sir,” to Lennox. The other servant ushered Lennox inside, and Nora followed Bartholomew down the corridor.

When he stopped before a door and opened it, Nora beheld a lovely chamber decorated in shades of rose and ivory. There were even dried rose petals among the fresh herbs on the floor, and the diamond-paned windows overlooked inviting gardens. She stared at the big bed with its carved posts, longing to crawl beneath the counterpane and stay there indefinitely.

“It’s lovely. Thank you so much.”

Bartholomew bowed. “One of the maidservants will soon arrive to attend you, madame.”

When she was alone, Nora sank into a low chair near the windows. Tears of despair welled up in her. She felt nauseous much of the time these days and knew that her baby was making herself known. Slater’s baby, though that did not change the love that swelled inside her for this tiny new life.

Could there still be a path forward for her with Lennox? That fragile hope had kept Nora going ever since the nights of bliss they shared at Duart Castle. Perhaps his father’s identity would not be revealed here in London, or the man in the miniature would be lost without a trace. She could imagine Lennox making peace with that and returning to Scotland.

If they were left to make a life together on their own, Nora had hope he might accept another man’s baby. Had he not made it clear he did not hold Nora responsible for what had happened with Slater?

But, before she could tell Lennox about the baby, she had to know what lay in store for him. Whenever she thought of the way the Duke of Aylesbury had gazed searchingly at Lennox, her heart felt heavy with foreboding.

A light tap came at the door, interrupting Nora’s reverie, and before she could even speak, Cicely peeked in.

“Are you all right? Where is Lennox?” No sooner were the words out than Cicely seemed to assess Nora’s mood and entered without an invitation. “Oh, I was right. Something is amiss! I can see it in your face. It’s not just mal de mer after all, is it?”

Nora leaned back and turned her face against the cool oak-paneled wall. In her cloistered life spent mostly with her father, female friends had been few. Now she found herself yearning to open up to someone. “No. It is more.”

Rushing over, Cicely knelt before her, her sable eyes penetrating. “Are you with child?”

This question caught Nora so completely by surprise, she couldn’t think of a way to avoid the truth. “If I tell you, you must swear that you will not speak of it to another person.”

Cicely dramatically made the sign of the cross. “I swear!”

“It’s true. I am with child.”

“But is that not a cause for joy? Why are you and Lennox keeping this news a secret?”

“In truth, it is a secret even Lennox does not know,” Nora replied miserably.

Cicely blinked in confusion. “I still do not understand.”

“I have not told Lennox…because he is not the baby’s father.”

Chapter 20

Nora had not meant to divulge so much, but now that the words were out, there was no going back. In fact, she felt a surge of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted.

Cicely was staring in shock. “What on earth can you mean?” she exclaimed.

The story emerged in fits and starts. “When I was at Stirling Castle, with my father, I was dedicated to my weaving, determined never to marry or even to be distracted by notions of romance.”

“You are far too beautiful to live like a nun,” her friend proclaimed. “What happened