Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,1
was it that, even as a lad, he had never quite felt part of this powerful clan? And now, as the mural was nearly finished, Lennox felt the familiar urge to roam.
An urge to go far away from the Isle of Skye…in search of a part of himself that always felt just out of reach.
* * *
Lennox and Ciaran walked side by side over the brow of a hill overlooking the Cottage of Dreams, the home Christophe de St. Briac had built for their sister, Fiona. They paused for a moment, the wind catching the edges of their belted plaids as they surveyed the scene below. Smoke curled from the chimney, baby lambs frolicked near their mothers, and just then, little Lucien came through the doorway, closely followed by Fiona.
Lennox had been haunted for hours by a strange sense of unease. It tugged inside his chest, like an itch he could not scratch, but the sight of Fiona and Lucien brought a smile to his face. He took a slow, deep breath.
“Our sister grows more bonny by the day,” he remarked. “Even with her husband far away at Stirling Castle.”
“Aye, Fi is a strong lass.” As Ciaran spoke, she began to wave, beaming, and Lucien gave a squeal of excitement. “No doubt she has a long list of chores for us.”
Soon enough, they were inside the light-filled cottage, and Fiona was giving them directions. As Lennox worked, he looked around at the cozy environment Fi and Christophe had created for their home. Other cottages on the Isle of Skye were dim and dreary, with tiny windows, walls of turf blocks, and a hole cut in the thatched roof to let out cooking smoke. Most people lived like that, except for the fortunate few who resided in a castle or tower house.
But Christophe, an architect, had created a different vision. Under a vaulted ceiling, the whitewashed walls of this cottage were lined with jewel-like paintings and sturdy shelves filled with books. Fiona loved books better than anything except her family, and thanks to her aristocratic French husband, she now had more than she could count. Lennox knew she had already begun reading aloud to baby Lucien, who was not yet two years of age.
As Ciaran dragged a big carved chest across the stone floor, he pretended to complain, “Fi, do ye mean to take every single possession in this cottage?”
She stood, hands on hips, her glossy black hair coiled softly at the base of her neck. “It could be a year before this project is finished at Stirling, Christophe says. Maybe longer! Something keeps happening to cause a delay.”
“No doubt your husband will remedy that,” said Lennox. “I’m surprised he wasn’t called in long ago to take over as master mason at Stirling Castle.”
“The king has been asking for him through intermediaries, I think, but we were both reluctant to make such a commitment. In the end, it was our old friend Bayard who begged Christophe to join him at Stirling. We were both unable to resist his coaxing.”
“I will always have a special place in my heart for Bayard,” Ciaran said with an ironic smile. “He has been a true friend to me.”
“So true. We all love Bayard. He’s like a great bear.” Fi turned then, pointing to a shelf on the wall near the bed. “Lennox, I nearly forgot that book, the one bound in garnet leather. It’s one of my very favorites. Can you reach it?”
Lennox nodded. He stepped around Lucien, who sat on the floor with Raoul, the big family hound. Just as Lennox reached up for the leather-bound volume, Raoul unexpectedly let out a bark, and Lennox’s hand bumped a silvery casket, knocking it from the shelf. One glance told him that the ornamental box was on course to strike Lucien. Without another thought, Lennox flung himself forward and managed to deflect the silver missile in mid-air, saving his nephew from harm. As he fell hard against the stone floor, he heard a metallic crash.
Little Lucien stared, wide-eyed, a bite of bannock in his pudgy hand. Raoul clambered up onto his long legs and began to howl. Fiona rushed over to where Lennox lay sprawled, the decorative case cracked open beside him.
“Are you all right?” she exclaimed.
“Oh, aye.” He laughed ruefully and rolled onto one shoulder, looking for the broken casket. As he focused on the case and noticed the lid’s distinctive enamel inlay, a chill crept over Lennox.