Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,2

looking first at Lennox, then at Ciaran.

“Aye,” said Ciaran. “Ma called for this on her deathbed. Inside was that ancient Viking brooch she wanted ye to have.”

Lennox looked from the shattered silver box to his sister’s face. “It’s ruined. Can ye ever forgive me?”

“’Twas only a mishap,” Fiona assured him. “There is nothing to forgive, for you saved Lucien from harm.”

Bits of the enamel from the lid were strewn on the floor. As Lennox bent to pick them up, he noticed that the bottom of the casket had broken apart, revealing what appeared to be a hidden compartment, its contents sealed away inside until this moment.

Gradually, he focused on a miniature of a man, framed in gold. It was painted on porcelain, the likeness standing out against a background of cerulean blue. Next to the miniature, Lennox realized, was a lock of hair secured with a bit of black riband.

No one spoke. Time seemed to stop as a strange, airless fog descended on them. Lennox couldn’t explain what he was feeling, but the back of his neck prickled and he realized he had stopped breathing. He looked at Ciaran. The utterly stricken expression on his older brother’s face caused his heart to clench.

Suddenly, Fiona spoke. “I’ll just clean this up before Lucien swallows something he shouldn’t.”

“Right,” Ciaran put in. “I’ll help.”

Lennox was all too aware of the tension in the air. “Wait.” He reached for the miniature, brushing Ciaran’s hand aside as he snatched it up.

“’Tis nothing,” cautioned his brother.

“If it is indeed nothing, ye won’t mind me having a look.”

With that, he rose lightly to his feet and went to a window, where the light was better. He felt his family watching him, but he ignored them. Slowly, Lennox opened his sun-darkened hand and stared at the miniature.

“Jesu.” The word came out in a gust of breath. He blinked. “It’s me!”

* * *

Although Lennox felt he was looking at his own reflection, the man staring back at him was no Highlander. He was clad in a fine black doublet sewn with rubies. The stranger’s fair hair was neatly tamed, unlike his own wild locks, and crowned by a plumed cap of soft velvet.

After scanning these details, Lennox drew a deep breath and looked more closely. He noticed that the man’s hair waved beside his right ear, in just the way Lennox’s did. The man was turned slightly, yet his striking, sea-green eyes gazed out from the miniature in a way that felt calm and faintly amused, even affectionate. There was something about him that felt hauntingly familiar.

Lennox raised a hand to his chest, as if to banish the raw emotions that tangled inside him. “I don’t understand,” he said at length, his voice choked. Walking toward Fiona and Ciaran, he thrust the miniature toward them. “We three plainly know this is not me, but who the devil is it?”

“I couldn’t say,” protested Fi. “I’ve never seen it before! It appears to have been hidden inside a secret compartment.”

“Hidden, perhaps, but not by a Viking, unless doublets came into fashion much sooner than I thought.” Lennox recoiled from the direction his thoughts were taking, but couldn’t stop himself from saying, “This silver casket belonged to Ma.”

Fiona picked up the lock of hair and held it next to his. The strands varied in hue from tawny to pale gold. “I’d swear this was cut from your head. I’ve never met another MacLeod with hair quite like this.”

Turning to Ciaran, Lennox saw his brother’s face go pale. “Ye know who this is! I can see it in your face.”

“I do not!”

“By God, do not deceive me. Since we were bairns, I could always see it when a secret passed over your face.”

Fiona stepped between them. “Ciaran, is this true? Do you know who this man is?”

“Nay.” In a low tone of dread, he added, “But… I can guess.”

“Ye must tell me, then.” Lennox’s heart was pounding as he grasped the front of his brother’s shirt and stared hard into his eyes. “I deserve to know!”

“Aye.” Ciaran swallowed. “Ye should know the truth. But there is so much pain that comes with it.” He paused, sighed deeply, and continued, “Ma quarreled with Da when I was a bairn, and she took me away for a season or more. Later, when I was older, Ma revealed that ye were conceived during that time. Da has always loved ye as a son, but—”

Lennox’s heartbeat filled his chest and echoed in his ears. Sweat broke out