Once Upon a Highland Christmas(36)

“You’re glad they did, aye?” Greer knocked his own cup against Archie’s. “Time to forget past grievances, my friend. Allies are better than enemies. This is a night to make merry.”

“Hah.” Archie cast him a querulous look. “I’m thinking it’s an e’en for some folk to be reminded of how to treat their elders.”

He turned to Breena and Grim, not quite managing to look as stern as he sounded. “What have the two of you to say for yourselves?”

“We’ve told you the most important thing, sir.” Breena spoke first. She took Grim’s hand, twining her fingers with his. “We’re in love and we’ve married.”

Beside her, Grim smiled. In truth, just the way she’d slipped her hand into his filled him with such warmth and pride, he couldn’t speak. His chest felt too tight, his heart so full of his love for her. He did cast a discreet glance over his shoulder.

Praise Odin, no one was near.

The four of them stood in the passageway outside Duncreag’s great hall. With Grim and Breena’s surprise Yuletide feasting in full swing, there was hardly an inch of Duncreag not occupied by celebrants. The MacGregors, especially, had turned out in number. Even the Munzies brought enough kin and friends to fill four long tables. Malcolm MacDonald and his new bride, Moira, kindly delayed their journey to MacKenzie territory in Kintail to be a part of Christmas at Duncreag Castle.

Grim glanced into the hall, his gaze seeking the pair. He spotted them near the tapestry Breena had hidden behind the night before their journey, the memory hitting him like a mighty punch to the gut. The gods only knew what would’ve come of him if she hadn’t been there, had he not noticed her. Desiring her as he’d done for so long, his attraction to her stronger than anything he’d ever before felt for a woman, he’d have surely spoken to her, sooner or later. Or mayhap he wouldn’t have, given his doubts that a maid so fair would even glance at a big, rough-hewn brute like him.

As things stood, when the day came to return to his home at Nought in the Glen of Many Legends, he’d ask Archie if he could purchase the tapestry.

It’d make a fine heirloom to hang over their bed.

A treasure to pass on to their children.

Grim felt the corner of his mouth lifting at the thought, the most pleasurable warmth sliding through him to imagine the family he and Breena would raise. The many Yuletide feastings they’d enjoy. Happier than he’d ever been, he tore his gaze from Malcolm and Moira and looked out across the crowded hall, heartened by the revelers’ merriment.

Many of them were loud and in their cups. Archie’s and Greer’s pipers played lively tunes, as did a fiddler who’d jumped onto a trestle bench. Quite a few of the guests danced, leaping and whirling about in the hall, where a space had been cleared for the purpose.

“So, laddie!” Archie jabbed a finger into Grim’s chest, drawing his attention from the celebrants. “Dinnae try to distract me by gazing into the hall, all innocence.” He flashed a look at Breena, his eyes narrowed. “Think you it’s a fine thing to hie yourselves back here, wed behind my back? And me knowing naught of the deed?”

“We returned as swiftly as we could.” Grim slid a warning glance at Breena, hoped she wouldn’t now regret their vows. The pledges they’d made, binding as stone.

He knew how much she loved Archie.

Their plan had worked very well. Indeed, there was so much raucous merrymaking in the great hall behind them that Archie had to bellow with all his lung power to be heard.

“You shouldn’t have gone wedding yourselves, no’ yet!” Archie snatched his walking stick from a shadowed alcove, leaning heavily on it as he glared at them.

Grim smiled back. “You were pacing about fine without your crummock when we rode in. It’s good to see you’re setting it aside now and then.”

“I didnae see you use it once since I arrived,” Greer spoke up, looking amused.

Archie harrumphed. “I need it, aye! No’ that it’s aught of your business, MacGregor.” He turned back to Grim and Breena, drew a long breath. “Truth is, when folk started pounded on my door, each one bursting with the news that you’d wed, I was so fashed I misplaced it.

“Marrying in the old ways,” he huffed again, shaking the walking stick at them. “I still cannae believe it.”

Grim reached for Breena’s hand, squeezing her fingers. “We had to speak our vows. It was necessary.”

“Is that so?” Archie’s eyes rounded, his gaze snapping to Breena’s middle. “I wouldnae have believed you’d—”