Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,4
They were, after all, the only family he had ever known.
Chapter 2
The morning’s wet, gray clouds had gusted away, and now a sunny breeze pushed Lennox’s small galley over the waters of Loch Dunvegan. In the distance, he spied the great rocky pedestal that held Dunvegan Castle aloft like an ancient crown. Adjusting the sail, Lennox glanced back at his family members. How many times over the years had the three siblings sailed together in this very boat, laughing, talking, utterly at ease as they approached their clan MacLeod stronghold? Now, however, he clearly saw how different he was from them. It was impossible to remain blind to the truth: Lennox stood out like a hound among a flock of sheep.
“Mind the rocks,” warned Ciaran as he took the tiller. “Your thoughts are clearly elsewhere.”
High on the stony plateau, guards were posted outside the castle’s sea-gate, but they waved at the sight of the three MacLeods. When Ciaran had brought the galley onto the shore and helped his sister and nephew to disembark, Fiona turned to Lennox.
“Will you please carry Lucien?” Her blue gaze was penetrating.
It pained him to look at the wee lad, for it felt as if the newly-revealed secret had carved out a gulf between them. “Aye.” Lennox opened his arms to the smiling bairn, forcing himself to smile in response. Lucien thought of him as his easy-going, kindhearted uncle, who was always ready to laugh and hoist him high into the air. Nay, Lennox could not punish the child for the sins of adults.
Lucien leaned trustingly against his uncle’s broad shoulder and reached for the clan MacLeod badge affixed to his cap. Since he was a babe, Lucien had been drawn to the badge, and it had become a ritual between them. Often, Lennox detached it from the woolen bonnet and gave it to him to hold, but not today.
Today, the very thought of the Hold Fast insignia was like a dagger in Lennox’s heart.
When they had ascended the carved stone steps, passed through the sea-gate, and entered the shelter of the castle’s outer courtyard, Fiona came closer.
“Wait.” She caught his sleeve. “I beg you, do not harden your heart against your family.”
“Do ye imagine I can behave as if nothing has happened?”
“Lennox MacLeod, you are still my brother, even if it’s only Ma and a lifetime of shared memories that bind us together. I have not forgotten the words our mother spoke to you on her deathbed.”
“I cannot bear to feel this now,” he said in a ragged whisper.
Fi leaned closer, forcing him to look at her. “She called you her ‘beautiful lion’ and begged that you guard your tender heart.”
“Can ye not see, everything I thought was real was a secret. A lie. I would be a fool to smile as before and open my heart to those who hid the truth.” He sent a fiery glance toward Ciaran, who was watching them from a short distance away. “Tell me ye know this, Fi.”
She drew a shaky breath. “Aye. But Lennox—”
“I’m going now to speak to Da and Grandfather.”
“I have never heard so cold a voice from you,” Fiona protested. “When all the other men have buried their feelings, I could always count on you to show kindness. Caring. Tenderness.”
Lennox shook his head. “I cannot feel anything now except pain—and anger.”
With that, he set Lucien down to play with two of his little cousins and strode on ahead of the others, into the castle. He soon found his father in the cavernous hall, immersed in a game of chess with his half-brother, Tormod.
Magnus lifted a weathered hand in greeting but did not look up from the ancient chessboard. Just two years ago, after the loss of their family castle to clan MacDonald, he had been a shell of his former self. His gradual return to health had been a source of deep satisfaction to Lennox, but all those warm feelings now seemed spoiled.
“I would have a word with ye and Grandfather,” Lennox said without preamble. Even as he spoke, he realized with a shock that Alasdair Crotach was not his grandfather any more than Magnus was his da.
“In a bit,” Magnus replied absently, fingering the berserker, one of the ancient ivory chess pieces carved from a walrus tusk. “I am on the verge of conquering Tormod for the second time today.”
Ciaran approached the table and cleared his throat. “Da. Stop what ye are doing. This matter is more important.”