“Some might say forbidding Yule is foolery.” Grim spoke what he believed.
Archie wheeled about and fair flew at him. “To think I aye believed you have a good head on your shoulders.” He raised his crummock high, shaking it at the heavens. For a moment, he forget himself and stood straight, his proud stance and blazing eyes hinting at the tall, handsome man he’d once been. A passionate man, it was rumored.
Just now, he only looked furious.
“You cannae be taking the lassie away into such wild weather,” he ranted, glowering at Grim. “She’ll freeze, she will. You’ll no’ even make it down the cliff path to the stables. The way is iced, it is.”
“I’ll no’ let any harm come to Lady Breena.” Grim would carry her as they descended the steep cliff trail if need be. Little more than a goat track, the path indeed didn’t offer the luxury of steps.
Even so, they’d find their way down, and safely.
Grim would see that they did.
“Truth be told,” Grim used his calmest voice on the old laird, “waving your walking stick about so wildly is a greater danger than the cliff path. I’d no’ see you whack Breena on the head.”
“Pah!” Archie glared at him, but lowered his crummock, clutching it to his chest as the wind tore at his thin bed-robe. “You’ll both go sliding to the rocks at the bottom of the path, breaking your bones. If that doesnae happen, you’ll be buried in snow before you’ve ridden ten paces.”
“Aye, well…” Grim cast a warning glance at Breena, so lovely in her deep green hooded cloak, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. He turned back to Archie, shrugging lightly. “If you’ll change your mind about Yule—”
“There’ll be no such frivol at Duncreag.” Archie jutted his chin, cantankerous as ever. “No’ this year and ne’er again. Long as I’m laird, my word is law.”
“So it is.” Grim slid his arm around Breena, drawing her to him, using his height and size to shield her from the worst of the wind and blowing snow. “And as there’ll be no celebrating here, you surely cannae mind me taking Lady Breena to a few halls where she can enjoy the season’s festivities?”
“Humph!” Archie looked down at the ice-crusted cobbles and nudged a drift of snow with his slippered foot. “I haven’t heard her complaining.”
“I’ve no reason to, my lord.” Breena glanced up at Grim, the infinitesimal wink she gave him letting him know she wouldn’t let Archie dissuade her. “I love Duncreag and am ever so fond of you, as I think you know.”
Archie’s chin thrust out even more. “Running off in the snow, disappearing to who knows where, is a fine way to show your loyalty.”
“That’s just it. You know how much I miss Inishowen.” Breena’s lovely Irish lilt softened as she recalled her home. “Happy as I am here, Donegal still holds a great part of my heart. Yule was always celebrated in style in my village. I’ve told you how my Uncle Dermot and Aunt Mell held a feast for everyone. As the local blacksmith, Uncle Dermot’s forge and barn were huge, with room for the whole village.
“Uncle Dermot was well-kent and loved by all.” She glanced aside and drew a deep breath before continuing. “Folk came from far and wide to enjoy the Christmas revelries he and Aunt Mell provided. And so”—she looked again at Archie—“I would enjoy a bit of holiday cheer, sir.”
“Aye, well…” Archie glanced from Breena to Grim, his sour expression changing into a long-suffering one. “I ken fine that no young lassie wants to spend all her time seeing to the needs of an auld done man.” He leaned heavily on his walking stick, one hand pressed to his hip. “Even if his aches and pains are like to see him dead before nightfall.”
“You will live through this night and many more to come, my lord.” Breena slipped away from Grim and went to kiss Archie’s cheek. Then she leaned close to his ear, whispering something Grim couldn’t catch.
To his surprise, Archie chortled and darted back inside his keep, closing the hall door behind him without a backward glance or farewell.
“What did you say to him?” Grim took her hand, lacing their fingers when she rejoined him.
“That, unbeknownst to you, I hid our provender and ale flasks.” She smiled, her merriment warming Grim to his soul. “And that with such a voracious appetite as you have, we’d surely turn about within the hour, as soon you discovered we’d left with nothing to eat or drink.”
“You are a wicked lass.” Grim squeezed her gloved hand, then reached to adjust her cloak’s hood more securely about her face. “I wouldnae have believed you could craft such a tall tale so quickly.”