Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,99

before I came to England. Now that he is here, I don’t want him to feel ignored.” Lennox was grateful that his father seemed to have other things on his mind and hadn’t objected to Lennox riding Chaucer instead of Zeus, the black steed once owned by Charles. Nor did the duke seem to care that Grant had been installed as Lennox’s temporary valet.

To Lennox’s surprise, his father said, “You show a great deal of consideration for the feelings of a horse.” There was a slight edge to his chuckle. “Perhaps you might first grant me a bit of your time?”

“Of course.” Lennox followed the older man as he walked back inside, up the stairs to his own large chamber. It seemed to Lennox that the air grew thinner with each passing step.

“Ah,” said the duke, reclining in his favorite chair near the window. “That’s better.”

An unobtrusive footman poured wine into silver goblets and served the two men. A moment later, he slipped out of the room and silently closed the door.

Lennox took a chair near his father, feeling as if a weight was pressing on his chest. “Was there something ye wished to discuss with me?”

“I merely wanted to tell you how proud I was to introduce you as my son.” The duke sipped his wine, a rueful smile touching his mouth. “I do not say that lightly. St. John is my oldest friend; he alone knows how I have suffered since Charles died.” He paused. “It has been a dark time for all three of us, in fact.”

Lennox could only wonder, with a faint sense of dread, where this was going. “I did glean something of that sort from Betsy.”

“Ah, yes, you were alone together in the gardens.” His green eyes were watchful. “Betsy is not only beautiful but also possessed of a fine character. I will confess, St. John and I remarked that you two would make striking children.”

Lennox felt his entire body tense, yet the primal male in him could not help imagining, for an instant, what Betsy might look like naked in the candlelight, responding to his touch.

The duke broke into Lennox’s momentary fantasy. “Have you been happy here this summer?”

“Aye.” It was impossible to explain how conflicted his feelings were, but the one thing he did know was a sense of gratification that he could make his father smile again and offer him hope for the future. “At times, it still doesn’t seem quite real.”

“Ah, yes, I know exactly what you mean! St. John and I also marveled at the changing winds of fate. Mere weeks ago, I thought I had lost everything, and now it begins to seem God has granted me a reprieve, through you.” His father leaned forward, holding his gaze. “As we survey the future, only one thing is lacking. Your legitimacy.”

Lennox felt a muscle move in his jaw. “I don’t think any less of myself for being born a bastard. In fact, I had nothing to do with it.”

The duke seemed to barely hear him. “No, no, that’s not what I mean.” Rising, he paced across the floor which was swept daily and strewn with fresh rushes. “I am growing older. There are moments when my heart begins to gallop like a runaway horse, and I realize my life will end one day.” Turning, he looked back, his eyes agleam with emotion. “I want to make you my son in every way, Lennox. I want you to be able to inherit my lands…and my title.”

Lennox knew he should have seen it coming, but nonetheless he felt blindsided. “But don’t ye already have a legitimate heir? A nephew?”

His father waved a dismissive hand. “Edwin? Oh, he is well enough, but you must understand, when I look at you, I see myself! There are moments when it takes my breath away. It is meant to be, that you are the heir to my legacy.”

Legacy. It was not a word Lennox would have ever associated with himself. “It’s impossible, though, isn’t it?”

“No! That’s what I am trying to tell you.” The duke circled back to his chair, gripping its high, carved back. “King Henry VIII has grappled with this very issue. Without a living, legitimate heir, he turned to Henry FitzRoy, his son by Bessie Blount. His Majesty created the titles of Duke of Richmond and Somerset for the boy, and many felt he would find a way to make him the heir to the throne. It was outrageous, but our king