“Showered their love on you.” Grim finished for her, pulling her against him as he closed his arms around her, holding her tight. “I can see how you’d mourn their loss, lassie, and I’m sorry for it.”
“You are kind.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as choked as it did to her.
He harrumphed, the sound coming from deep in his great chest, and oddly soothing. “You’ll no’ think so when I ask if there’s no’ anyone else you may be longing for? Someone back in your Ireland?”
She blinked, confused.
Then heat began inching up her neck, onto her cheeks. Surely he didn’t know she’d told some of the garrison lads she was spoken for? The look in Grim’s eye warned that he’d heard. And she should’ve realized such an untruth would circle back to haunt her.
But she’d only wanted to be left in peace.
And truly, she had given someone her heart.
He stood before her now.
“Someone in Ireland?” She repeated his question, sure her face glowed like a candle.
Grim set her from him then, his gaze locking on hers. “A man, sweet. I’d know if there’s a lad waiting for you in Donegal?”
Breena swallowed, her uncaring parents and even poor Uncle Dermot and Aunt Mell gone from her mind as the portent of Grim’s question filled her with such hope that she was sure her heart would burst.
“No, there isn’t anyone.” She shook her head, not caring what he might’ve heard from the other garrison men. Her spirits rose at the relief she saw on Grim’s face. “I am not a maid, but that you know, being aware of Ralla and his band as you are. But no Irish lad ever spoke for me, nor did one ever capture my interest.”
“Has anyone done so?”
“Perhaps…” She glanced aside, unable to voice that particular truth.
“But you are no’ promised to anyone?” Grim persisted, turning away from her to brace one hand on the edge of the window arch as he stared out across the snow-covered landscape. “No one holds a claim o’er you?”
“No one at all.”
“Then it is settled.” Grim straightened and dusted his hands, seeming much larger than usual in the narrow window alcove. “As there is no one to object, you shall ride with me on my quest to bring Yule gladness to Archie and Duncreag.”
Breena blinked, sure she’d misheard him. “A quest?”
“Indeed.” Grim reached for her, pulling her closer to the window ledge. “Look there”—he raised his arm, pointing at a single star glittering just above the far horizon—“do you see that Yule beacon?”
“I thought it was a star.” Breena looked again, narrowing her eyes this time.
The twinkling light still looked like a star.
“That’s no star, my lady.” Grim flashed her one of his crooked smiles. “It only appears that way because it’s so distant. A Yule beacon is what it is, a balefire that’s kept burning every night and day to mark the path to Greer MacGregor’s door.”
Breena frowned, not sure. “I’ve never heard of a Yule beacon.”
“Aye, well.” Grim glanced back at the far-off light. “They’re a tradition hereabouts where folk live such great distances from another. At festive times, the fires are lit so all comers can find the way to a man’s keep, assured of a warm welcome when they do. There are other such Yule beacons, beyond thon horizon. I mean for us to visit each one.
“We’ll rally folk far and wide, from all the glens.” He looked at her again, his smile widening. “I can be persuasive when I must. Men will come, and they’ll bring good cheer and gifts for Archie. Greer MacGregor will be among them. That’s why”—he winked—“I couldn’t let Archie’s damage to the Old Christmas Wife go unaddressed. It wouldn’t do for MacGregor to see his own face looking back at him from Duncreag’s Yule Log, now would it?”
“Greer MacGregor is one of Archie’s worst enemies.” Breena felt her brow pleating. “He’d never agree to come here for Yule.”
Grim didn’t look concerned. “You have much to learn of warriors, lass. For now, it’s enough to tell you that I have fought many men, battling with them fiercely and them no less with me.
“Yet times can change and do.” He glanced again at Greer MacGregor’s Yule beacon. “I have gone on to fight at the sides of the same warriors I once faced as bitter foes.
“So it will be with MacGregor, and others.” He wrapped his arm around Breena, settling her head against his shoulder, stroking her hair. “I am sure of it. If”—he dropped a kiss on the top of her head—“you will go along with me, plying your feminine charm to convince them.”