Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,10
saved when I was but a lad. Eventually, I realized if I truly loved him, I wouldn’t keep him in a cage.”
“Exactly.” Nora laughed softly and lifted her skirts. “Of course, I owe Father everything, and he has been a wonderful teacher. But as much as I respect him, I am determined to make my own way in the world. One day, I will be a weaver, creating magnificent tapestries for royal courts like this one.”
They emerged into the bustling, walled inner close, and Nora sensed Grant’s skepticism even before he spoke. “I suppose dreams are a good thing, and I admire your determination,” he allowed. “But it seems that men have the power, and the truth is, a lass must be governed by their rules.”
“You are very young,” Nora replied, turning sober. “And you have not known me long. I am not like other women. I have lived in Europe, England, and now Scotland. I have seen the world, and I mean to have my way with it.” She paused, her body growing taut as a bowstring. “I will not be constrained by my father or any other man. The only true obstacles between me and my dreams are my own talent and strength, and I know they can overcome anything.”
For a moment, Nora thought she saw stars in his eyes. One day, the lasses would be flocking around Grant Carsewell, but for now he was suspended on the precipice between adolescence and manhood.
“I want to be like you,” he said.
“It’s easy enough! Repeat this, morning and night,” Nora urged. “I alone am master of my own future.”
Just then they were interrupted by a female voice calling Grant’s name. He turned his head and gave a cry of delight. “Look there, it’s Fiona!”
Nora realized that these people, who had the look of newly-arrived travelers, must be the friends Grant had told her about. His stepfather Bayard de Nieuil, she knew, was one of the French masons working with Christophe de St. Briac on the construction of the new palace here at Stirling.
Grant now turned to Nora, beaming. “Will ye come to meet my friends?”
He drew her along with him until they reached the small band of travelers, but he released her arm in order to embrace a young brunette woman with a warm smile. The newcomer wore a traveling gown of slate-blue wool that seemed to enhance her beauty in spite of its simplicity.
“This is my friend, Fiona MacLeod,” said Grant. “And the wee bairn is Lucien, her son. They are the family St. Briac has been waiting for.”
Although Nora smiled and spoke words of greeting, she felt awkward. She was taller than Fiona, and her curling mass of reddish hair struggled to burst free from the long braid down her back, while Fiona’s ebony tresses were coiled neatly at her neck.
“Hello, Grant.” The deep male voice spoke from a distance.
The speaker was a tall, broad-shouldered Highlander who stood apart from the others. He wore a belted plaid that revealed lean-muscled legs, but Nora’s gaze was drawn to the man’s wild, golden-tawny hair.
“Lennox!” exclaimed Grant. His face lit up. “Are my eyes deceiving me? How did ye come to be in Stirling?”
The man called Lennox smiled broadly in response. “I brought my sister and nephew from the Isle of Skye,” he said, glancing her way as he explained. “And, as it happens, I’ve some business of my own.” As Grant chattered in reply, Lennox slowly turned to look at Nora. His eyes were a startling shade of sea-green, and he lifted sun-bleached brows in a question. “I do not believe we’ve met, my lady.”
To Nora’s consternation, she felt her face grow warm. “There’s no need to address me as if I were nobility. I am simply Nora Brodie.”
Grant drew her closer to Lennox and made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “Yet there is nothing simple about this fair lass,” he proclaimed. “Nora is a gifted weaver of tapestries! She and her father have come from the Tudor court in London, at the behest of King James himself, to look after the Crown’s priceless collection of tapestries.”
Lennox angled an ironic glance between Grant and Nora. “Since my young friend can speak of naught but you, Mistress Brodie, it seems I must make my own introductions. I am Lennox MacLeod, from the Isle of Skye, brother to Fiona.”
Under his warm regard, Nora became aware of a stirring deep inside, a restive yet pleasurable tingling. This was a part of her