Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,85

you must realize it is the right thing for you, too.”

“Do not presume to tell me what is best for me.” Lennox turned his head and met her gaze, determined to try one more time. “Ye know very well that I have the highest regard for your gifts. I would never ask ye to choose.”

“Then you understand why I cannot go with you,” she said. “It would be impossible for me to be a master weaver in the world of the Duke of Hastings. And if I am your wife, I would have no power of my own.”

Desperately he wondered why they could not find a way forward together, but clearly she had made up her mind. When he spoke again, there was a harder edge to his voice. “I would chart a different course for us, but it seems we are at cross purposes.”

With that, he grabbed his plaid from the rush-strewn floor and hurriedly donned it. It seemed impossible to believe that they were truly parting. Fearing he might break down, Lennox started toward the door, but Nora followed and caught his arm.

“We should keep last night as a memory of how well we loved,” she said, her composure crumbling. Her blue eyes swam with tears. “Our time was brief yet perfect, like a shooting star.”

He wanted to turn and catch her up in his arms, to kiss her into submission, but he knew her too well. It would only prolong his suffering. “If it brings ye comfort to think that, do so, but remembering would only be a painful reminder of what I’ve lost.” Opening the door, Lennox looked back one last time. “I love ye, Nora. Be happy.”

Chapter 24

Nora stayed in her room until mid-morning, hesitant to emerge for fear she would encounter Lennox again before he left Weston House. She wasn’t certain whether it would be more painful to see him one more time…or never again.

Numbly, she stood at the mullioned windows and watched the distant activity on the River Thames. When a knock came at her door, she felt a thrill. Certain it must be Lennox, she crossed the room and lifted the latch.

“Oh, my dear, look at you. You are so very pale,” Cicely exclaimed, entering without an invitation. “Why have you not come downstairs this morning? Are you ill?”

Nora turned away from the doorway, unable to speak about what had happened. Her friend followed her.

“Sit down.” Cicely put her in a chair then looked around the room, taking in the tapestries spread across one side of the bed, the rumpled coverlet on the other. And then her eyes fell on the two cups, still half full of wine. “This is about Lennox, isn’t it? He was here!”

Nora felt an urge to be ill, but there was no food in her stomach. “He wanted me to come with him, as his wife.” Weeping, she added, “He said he would raise this baby as his own.”

“But that is wonderful!” Cicely rejoiced. “Why are you crying?” As she spoke, she poured some wine into another cup and lifted it to Nora’s lips. “You are distraught. Drink a little of this.”

Nora tried and felt somewhat revived. Sitting up, she sought to compose herself. “Once I saw him with the duke, who is clearly the father he’s been seeking, I knew he must go with him. Alone.”

“That sounds very noble.” Cicely looked doubtful. “Did you truly mean it?”

“I love him. The duke is clearly a very fine man. Lennox has gone through his life feeling as if some important part of himself was missing. He must be free to discover it.”

“And why couldn’t you be by his side?”

She shook her head again. “It is Lennox’s nature to want to help people in need; his own sister has told me so.” Nora paused, remembering the day Fiona had teased Lennox about rescuing maidens in distress. “As you know, he only exchanged vows with me to placate my father during our escape from Stirling. His feelings for me now may be real, but I think he should have the chance to find out what’s in store for him without me and my baby muddling the situation.”

Cicely tilted her head as if in doubt. “Is that all?”

“Lennox despises the father of this baby. I don’t see how he could truly raise it as his own, even if he was not involved now with the Duke of Hastings.”

“I am tormented by curiosity.” Cicely leaned forward. “Won’t you please tell me who