“You see the stars, aye, lass?” Grim looked at them, too, his profile silvered by their light.
“How can I not?” Breena felt a shiver move through her, the night’s beauty gripping her. “They are a river of stars. No, a sea of them, a whole wide ocean, and they take my breath with their loveliness.”
“You are the lovely one.” Grim placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I wanted you to see the night sky from here, from Lady Rosalie’s ‘room of stars.’ I wished that because you should know that if every one of those stars were to fall from the heavens, their brilliance could not outshine you, my lady.”
“You do not know what you’re saying.” Breena kept her gaze on the night, not trusting herself to look at him.
“I ken fine what I say and ne’er waste a word, lass.” He leaned down, angling his head round to catch her eye. “All the noblewomen in the land could snatch up such stars, if indeed they fell. And they could have glittery gowns made of them. But even wearing such splendor, they’d be cast into shadow just by the light in your eyes when you smile at Archie. I’ve also seen you stop and pet the older castle dogs when you pass through the hall. I’ve watched you drop to your knees beside them to rub their bony shoulders and speak softly to them. Did you ken they stare after you when you walk away, their milky gazes bright as puppies’?
“That you do, lass.” He straightened, stood silent a moment. “You bring joy where’er you go.”
“Archie has been good to me. And I’ve always loved dogs.” It was all she could think to say.
“Dinnae e’er again object to anyone calling you lady.” Grim slid his hands down from her shoulders and along her arms to her hands, linking their fingers. “I have ne’er met a greater one than you, Lady Breena.”
“Oh, dear.” Breena glanced aside, blinking furiously against the stinging heat at the backs of her eyes. She didn’t cry, never.
Yet now…
She swallowed hard, her heart nearly jumping from her chest when Grim released her hands to cup her face and look deeply into her eyes.
“Do you miss Ireland?” His question surprised her.
“Of course, I do.” Breena didn’t lie. She felt at home here now. But she’d always miss Inishowen and Donegal. That would never change.
“And your family?” Grim had angled his head, his beard rings clacking softly in the room’s stillness. “I know you lost them in the raid. Do you still grieve for them sorely? Is there anyone else you mourn?”
“I…” Breena glanced aside, guilt and shame sweeping her. She felt her face coloring and couldn’t stop the rush of heated embarrassment to her cheeks.
“Forgive me, lass.” Grim released her, stepping back. He looked more unhappy than she felt. “I didnae mean to distress you. That was the last thing I—”
“You didn’t upset me.” Breena closed the distance between them, lifted a hand to touch his mailed chest. She hoped he couldn’t tell she was trembling. That his words stirred memories, making them twist so tightly inside her that she could scarce breathe. “It’s not what you said, but me.
“You see”—she rushed the words, feeling a need to speak true—“I do not miss my parents. I grieve for them, of course. But my heart does not long for them. And that fills me with a terrible guilt.”
Grim’s brow creased, but rather than condemn her, he placed his hand over hers, his strength and warmth so comforting tears again stung her eyes.
“I vow you will have your reasons.” He nodded as if she hadn’t just revealed herself cold and unfeeling. “If ever you wish to speak of them, I have good ears, I’m told, and broad shoulders.”
His kindness was too much.
A terrible thickness rose in Breena’s throat, hot and burning, making it hard to speak. But she must, wanting him to know the truth.
“There isn’t much to say for I scarce knew them.” She raised her chin, meeting his surprised gaze. Her heart started to thump painfully, her parents’ faces flickering across her mind only to be swiftly replaced by two other faces, ones she’d miss all her days. “I had eight brothers, and my father never let me forget that he’d rather have had a ninth son than a daughter to clothe and feed. My mother was a silent, long-suffering woman who only did her chores and found other work for me to tend.” She glanced aside, blinking. “Neither were caring or affectionate and my brothers were aye too busy to notice me.
“The only family I truly ache for were my aunt and uncle.” Now Breena did have to dash aside a tear as memories of the beloved pair squeezed her heart. She still saw their dear faces before her, their eyes so filled with love that it hurt to remember. “Uncle Dermot was the village blacksmith, and his wife, my Aunt Mell, was more a mother to me than my own. They weren’t blessed with children and so they—”