Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,37

father the truth of her situation, impossible to stay at Stirling Castle while carrying Sir Raymond’s bastard. During the many nights she’d lain awake, it had occurred to Nora that she might say that Slater had forced himself on her, but the entire court seemed to be so dazzled by him, who would believe her?

And so Nora stood just inside the doorway to her chamber, wrapped in her green cloak, clutching her satchel, feeling sick. She prayed that she was right about Lennox MacLeod, that his word was good and he would come for her. Licking her dry lips, she glanced back at the letter to her father. It lay fairly glowing against the deep blue cover of her bed.

Where was Lennox? Had she misjudged him, and he had decided to go without her?

Just then, a candle flame flickered from the direction of the workroom. As it danced over the shadowed wall, coming closer, Nora thought her heart might cease beating.

“What’s this all about?” cried William Brodie, looming up in the doorway to her chamber. “Where do ye think you’re going, lass?”

Chapter 10

Nora met her father’s challenging stare, speechless, wishing she could make herself invisible. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt certain he must be able to hear it.

William Brodie’s eyes were moving over her, touching on her satchel, her cloak, the letter on her bed. “I demand an answer,” he rumbled. “What the devil is happening?”

Just then, a soft tap came at the outer door. Nora’s heart leaped with a mixture of relief and trepidation, for it was her father who wheeled around to throw open the portal. There stood Lennox, looking quite undismayed by the sight of a red-faced William Brodie.

“So ye are to blame for this!” thundered the older man. “Ye doubtless intend to dishonor my daughter, MacLeod, but I will see you dead first!”

Nora watched, stunned, as Lennox gave a reassuring smile and put a hand on her father’s arm. “Dishonor? Never. In truth, I mean to protect her.”

“Do ye think to trick me? Get out!”

Instead of obeying, Lennox stepped into the room and looked at Nora, sending her a message with his eyes. She went forward, trusting him somehow to carry them safely through this stormy drama.

“Father,” she said, “it is not what you are thinking.”

Lennox reached for her hand and put it through the crook of his elbow. “Aye, sir. If ye will only attend me—”

Nora felt as if her heart might tear in two as Father grasped her other arm and tugged, glaring at her.

“Take your hands off my daughter!” Brodie was shouting now, heedless that he might wake others in the palace.

“Calm yourself and do Nora the honor of listening to what we have to say.”

“Nora? Ye have no right to use her Christian name!”

“That will soon change,” Lennox replied calmly.

It was Nora’s turn to stare at him in surprise. What could he possibly mean? Before she could form a question, the Highlander smiled down at her and touched a tanned finger to her lips.

“Nay, love, do not protest. Your father deserves to know to the truth.” Looking back at William Brodie, Lennox said, “I am in love with your daughter and mean to make her my wife.”

The older man’s face reddened in shock. “Bah!” he spat. “If that were true, why would ye spirit her away in the hour before dawn, without coming to me as a man of honor and asking for her hand? And why would my lass run off without so much as a farewell to her father?”

“Ye pose a reasonable question, sir.” Lennox rubbed his jaw. After glancing again toward Nora, he said, “As it happened, there was simply no time. I was called away from Stirling on a family matter of great urgency…”

At last, Nora saw an opening in the conversation that she could fill. “And when Lennox broke the news to me that he must leave at dawn, I realized I could not bear for us to be parted again, especially so soon after his journey to Falkland Palace. I begged him to take me with him without fully considering any of the consequences.”

“Oh, did ye indeed?” shouted her father. “I think ye have gone mad! What about your calling? The gift ye have nurtured since ye were a wee lass, always proclaiming that weaving meant far more than any trifling dreams of romance?” He paused, breathing hard. “If ye meant to run away with this wild Highlander, why did ye berate me