Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,42
now dry as stones, but Lennox broke one in two and handed half to her. “Nor would I.”
“I apologize for drawing you into my…problems. And for my father, who made everything worse.”
“I don’t suppose ye want to tell me yet what this is really all about?”
Panic flared in her eyes. “Please do not ask me to say more about it.”
Lennox uncorked a flagon of wine and drank, then offered it to Nora, who copied him. He heard the tender note in his own voice when next he spoke. “I have already vowed that I am not a man who would force ye in any way. I merely thought ye might be relieved to share the secret that troubles ye so deeply, lass.”
The night air was growing chilly, and she moved closer to him. “I am grateful for your kindness, sir, more grateful than words can express.”
“Even though it means eating cold bannocks and sleeping on the ground?” he teased lightly.
Smiling, Nora accepted the wedge of cheese he held out. “I will no doubt look back on this night as a great adventure.”
Lennox wanted to offer to make it a much greater adventure than she could imagine, but he held his tongue. Still, he allowed himself a brief fantasy of Nora, wrapped in his blanket with him, letting him undress her, opening her mouth to his kisses, moaning as he explored her body with his fingers…
“I almost forgot.” Nora broke into his thoughts, sounding excited. “I picked some berries near the stream. Won’t they be delicious?” She brought the plump brambleberries out of a pocket sewn into her cloak.
“Aye. Delicious.” He couldn’t keep the ragged edge of desire from his own voice.
Nora put one of the berries in her mouth and closed her eyes, sighing. “Oh, but it is sublime. Especially after a day of only bannocks and cheese. Let me give you some.”
He watched as she took his hand, opening his long fingers to reveal the rough surface of his palm. “Your hands are so large,” she observed, her own fingers slim and pale against his.
“Aye,” murmured Lennox. He let her see the heat in his gaze before adding. “I am a man, after all.”
Her cheeks went pink. “I am aware of that.” Nora put several of the brambleberries into his hand, yet it seemed that her fingertips lingered over his. She licked her lips. “Is there more wine? I find I am still thirsty.”
“Drink, lass. Ye need the warmth.” He passed the flagon to her, waiting until she had finished to ask, “I know very little about your life before Stirling Castle. Tell me about the finest meal ye have ever eaten. Perhaps it will take our minds off the ways this one is lacking.” For Lennox’s own part, he hoped her tale would distract his cock, which was hard and aching even though they had scarcely touched.
Not yet, at least.
Nora leaned back against a tree trunk and brushed errant curls from her brow. “When I was about ten years old, and still living with my parents in Brussels, we three traveled to Paris. Papa had been the master weaver on a magnificent tapestry that was purchased for the Palais du Louvre. What a great adventure that was! The night before we returned to Flanders, we dined at the palace with King François I. For a girl my age, it was as if we had been transported into a fairyland. I had never been in such sumptuous surroundings, and they served more food, more courses, than I had ever imagined, each one announced with a trumpet fanfare!”
Lennox had a dozen questions about her childhood in Flanders, but they would have to wait. Instead, he prompted, “What was your favorite?”
“The liveried servants carried platters overhead with peacocks in full plumage, their beaks gilded. I thought perhaps it was merely paint, but Mama assured me they had actually melted gold.” Nora paused to sigh, beaming at the memory. “It was also the first time I had ever seen a fork.”
“Were the sweets delicious?” he asked, enjoying the sight of her smiling face.
“Oh, yes. The thing I remember most was the amazing array of confections that were made to look like something else. Animals, birds, even fish!” She laughed before smoothly moving the subject to him. “And what of your best memory of a feast? I know nothing about the Highlands apart from the rumors that all of you are a bit rough.”