She had about as much in common with a lady as a sparrow with a peacock.
Even so, she had her pride.
And she’d correct Grim’s error as soon as they reached Lady Rosalie’s chamber.
If he thought less of her, so be it.
She’d lived this long without an admirer, though she had given him her heart and a kiss beneath the mistletoe. That a man kissed a woman didn’t mean he cared for her. No matter that he’d called their kiss “right pleasurable.” Plundering a woman’s lips meant little to most men, leastways in a romantic sense.
That she knew.
She shivered, remembering the things her captor, Ralla, and his men had done to her. They’d stolen her kisses, her innocence, and, at times, threatened her life. They’d also taught her to appreciate men like Grim.
She knew in her heart he was good.
Unfortunately, she was also aware that most men of his standing only dallied with lasses of humble backgrounds. When they wanted a wife, they offered for the hands of fine ladies. Daughters of gentle breeding who came with land, a title, and a generous dowry purse.
She could offer Grim nothing like that.
So as they climbed higher and higher up the Winter Tower’s tight spiral stair, she planned her explanation carefully. When they reached the top and the door that would lead into the late Lady Rosalie’s sanctuary, she’d be poised and ready.
Or so she thought until they were finally there and Grim opened the door, letting her step past him into the night-cloaked chamber.
Except the room wasn’t dark at all.
It was bright and beautiful, more wondrous than Breena would’ve believed possible.
Broad beams of moonlight fell through two of the window arches to gleam back off the bare stone walls and floor so that the room appeared to be made of polished silver. And rather than the musty smell of the turnpike stair, the little chamber was filled with clean cold air. Better yet, the night wind whistling past the windows carried the heady scent of the nearby pine wood.
“Oh, my!” Breena stopped just inside the threshold, her jaw slipping.
“I knew you’d approve.” Beside her, Grim inhaled deeply, his face relaxing.
She couldn’t know for sure, as she wasn’t looking at him. But she’d felt the transformation in the warmth of his tone. And in how slowly he released his breath, as if he appreciated this place.
He thrust the rush-light in an iron ring on the wall and then strode deeper into the room. “A great shame it’s no’ used, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes!” Breena glanced about the perfectly round room, words failing her. She pressed a hand to her breast, awe filling her as she took in more of the chamber’s magnificence.
Empty of furnishings and adornment, the moon-silvered stone truly did appear smooth as a looking glass. Before Duncreag, she’d never been in a castle or even a lesser chieftain’s tower hall, but she knew that the room’s stones bore the noble gloss of great age. Only long centuries of loving use could create such a patina, and that awareness humbled her.
Heart thumping, the night’s chill not bothering her at all, she breathed deep of the crisp, pine-scented air and imagined the fine ladies who’d sat on the stone benches of the chamber’s six window embrasures. Cut deep into the thickness of the tower, the alcoves circled the room, two of them flanking a small fireplace with a cone-shaped hood, the stone of which was carved with soaring birds.
“I have never seen anything so lovely.” She went to stand beside Grim, lightly touched his arm. “It is like stepping into the realm of a faery queen.”
“So it is.” Grim’s voice held a husky note that made her senses spin. Equally disquieting, the same moonlight that silvered the room also shone on his mail shirt and glinted off his beard rings, letting him look not just big, bold, and roguish, but almost mythical.
So easily, he could pass for a legendary hero come to life, straight from a bard’s fable.
Breena knew her eyes were widening in wonder, so she glanced aside, biting her lower lip.
To her surprise, Grim leaned down and pressed a kiss to her brow. “This room should be well tended and enjoyed, by all. That is certain.
“And you have no’ yet seen its finest feature.” He caught her wrist, led her into the nearest embrasure. “It is said one can see all of Scotland from up here. Though”—he slid his arm about her waist, drawing her near as they approached the tall window arch—“I’ll own that’s stretching the truth a bit. Even so, the views are splendid.”
“I have no words.” Breena set her hands on the cold stone of the ledge, stunned by the snowy expanse before her. The soaring peaks that surrounded Duncreag, cutting off the stronghold from the rest of the world, glistened with the sheen of ice crystals. In the distance, other hills, moorland, and glens stretched blue-white in every direction, each ripple of the land sparkling, the whole of the Highlands kissed by a light haze of frosty mist.