Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,43
such civilized comforts as roads and inns,” Lennox parried lightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You are teasing me, I know.” Her gaze moved to the sharpened dirk, sheathed at his waist. “Yet your weapons look rather savage. And you don’t wear a doublet…”
He felt torn between defending the splendid place where he had lived all his life and revealing that he was not truly a Highlander at all. “Would ye think more highly of me if I wore a doublet instead of a belted plaid?”
“Of course not. I want to learn about this isle called Skye.” Coming closer, Nora put her hand on his forearm. “It must be a magical place.”
“Aye.” His heart began to ache.
“No doubt you enjoyed many meals that linger in your memory.”
Lennox closed his eyes and let himself go back in time. “The stronghold of Clan MacLeod is an ancient stone castle with views of a sea called The Minch.” He heard Nora draw a breath and felt her sense of wonder. “Nearby, in plain sight, are two immense, flat-topped plateaus. They have Gaelic names, but most simply call them the MacLeod Tables. Not so long ago, King James V sailed around Scotland to pay a visit to the Western Isles, and our clan chief, Alasdair Crotach, wanted to impress him with a feast he would never forget.” Lennox paused. “Our chief had boasted, during a visit to Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh, that he could offer a more impressive banquet hall on Skye. So, as the sun set, we led His Majesty and the royal party, by horseback, up to the top of the nearest plateau. There, a long table had been set. Instead of magnificent chandeliers, this setting offered a star-strewn sky, and the candles were replaced by clansmen standing all around the long table, holding flaming torches aloft. ’Twas a sight I will never forget.”
“How splendid it must have been,” sighed Nora. “Like a dream.”
“Aye.” It had been like a dream then, but now the memory was stained by the knowledge that he hadn’t really belonged. Lennox opened his eyes. Although the little clearing was nearly dark, behind the clouds a luminous full moon shone. When he spoke again, his voice was husky. “The Isle of Skye is a mystical place.”
“And the clan chief you mentioned, Alasdair Crotach—is he not your grandfather?”
He gave a harsh sigh. “Aye. He was.”
“Was?”
Tears burned the back of Lennox’s throat as he continued to look away. “’Tis not a subject I wish to discuss.”
“Oh, I am sorry.” Her hand touched his. “I’ve probed too far.”
Slowly, he met her searching eyes and became aware of an emotional pull toward this lass. He felt she might even understand the conflict inside him. Before Lennox could even think about what he was saying, the words came out. “Ye should know, I’m no MacLeod. Not even a Highlander, I fear.” His heart clenched, hard. “In truth, I don’t know who the devil I really am.”
Chapter 12
Nora blinked, confused. What could Lennox possibly mean? “Not a Highlander? I don’t understand.”
He raised one of his strong, elegant hands and rubbed his brow. “I forget how much pain this brings me until I must say the words aloud. Yet it is real.”
“Whatever it is, you can say it to me,” Nora said gently. Her arms went around his chest of their own accord, and Lennox leaned slightly against her as he spoke.
“This journey is actually a quest to discover who I really am. All my life, I have felt that I didn’t quite belong among Clan MacLeod. I looked different, and my nature and interests were different. I thought that might be why my grandfather seemed to favor me less than my brother, Ciaran, but now I know the truth.”
Nora listened in silence to the story about the day, only a few weeks ago, when Lennox had gone with Ciaran to Fiona’s cottage. When he described the moment he’d accidentally knocked the silver casket from its shelf, dislodging the hidden panel on the back of the box, she held her breath.
“I have it with me.”
In the shadows, Nora felt him reaching into the folds of his belted plaid. He brought out a leather pouch and opened it to reveal a small gold-framed oval portrait of a man. When Nora tilted it to catch more of the silvery moonlight, a shiver ran down her spine. The man looked exactly like Lennox. “Oh, my! It could be you but for his garb.”