Once Upon a Highland Christmas(42)

“You give a man little choice.” Grim offered her his arm.

Breena took it, gladly. “I am trusting in the goodness of my uncle’s heart, the power of love, and”—she stretched to kiss Grim’s cheek—“the magic of Christmas.”

“I hope you aren’t disappointed.” Grim didn’t sound convinced.

But when they reached her uncle and Archie at the wall, Grim cleared his throat loudly, lifting his voice before she could say a word.

“Good sir,” he began, sliding an arm around Breena, holding her close. “I would remind you that it is Yule. If e’er you loved Breena, truly cared for her as she has told me, then you’d be giving her the greatest gift of Christmas by going away and leaving her in peace.”

“I cannae do that.” Dermot O’Doherty glanced at her.

His eyes were suspiciously bright.

“I gave my sworn oath to my liege lord,” he added, his voice rough. “I am duty-bound. Surely you, as a man of war, will understand?”

“What of your heart, uncle?” Breena left Grim’s side and went to stand directly before the man she’d always loved as a father. “Does it not speak to you as well?” She glanced over her shoulder at Grim, her own heart fluttering when he nodded approval. “Are there not times when a man, even a great warrior, must be ruled by love rather than orders?

“Or”—she stood straighter, lifting her chin—“do you not love me as much as I grew up believing?”

To her surprise, a tear spilled from her uncle’s eye and rolled down his face. He glanced aside, lifting a hand to dash at his cheek. When he turned back to her, the stoniness was gone from his expression, replaced by the warmth and softness she’d known all her life.

“You know that I love you, lass.” He sounded miserable, as if his heart were breaking. “Your Aunt Mell does, too. To us, you are indeed as our child. That will never change.”

“Then I have a challenge for you.” Grim joined them, looking so bold and magnificent that Breena’s knees weakened. “Stay here at Duncreag for Christmas and then return to your Ireland, telling no one that you saw Breena. Leave her to live her life in peace. In return”—he glanced at Archie—“you and your wife will aye be welcome to visit us here.”

“It is Yule.” Archie swelled his chest, giving his consent.

“So it is.” Dermot pulled on his beard, considering.

For a moment, the night seemed to still, even the wind going quiet. The air turned colder and the snowy mist glittered, almost magically. The luminosity shone on Dermot’s rust-gray hair and also caught the brightness of his beloved eyes. He heaved a great sigh, not appearing at all like a man about to break his niece’s heart.

When he looked at Breena again, something inside her warmed and hope flared. She lifted a hand to her face to brush the hair from her cheek and wasn’t surprised when her fingers touched chill dampness beneath her eyes. Her uncle was coming around, she was sure.

“Uncle Dermot,” she started, struggling past the heat in her throat, “you used to say Christmas was a time for miracles.” She smiled up at him, willing him to remember. “You told everyone that wonders could happen.”

“Aye, I did, didn’t I?” He came forward then, taking her hands. His voice was thick and gruff. “It would seem I didn’t find you after all, lass. You ken how much I love your Aunt Mell. I’d no’ be denying you and your lad here the same happiness.”

Breena released the breath she’d been holding. “Then you’ll not say anything about having seen me? You’ll let them think I’m gone?”

She couldn’t bring herself to say dead.

“So I will do, aye.” He nodded, his eyes still glistening. “Though I’d spend a bit of time with you before I head back, if you’ll allow me the pleasure?”

On his final words, the last shadows faded from his face and he was once more the uncle she’d always known and loved. And she did love him.

“Oh, to be sure, you can stay.” Breena glanced at Grim and Archie, joy sweeping her to see their smiles. “Grim just invited you, anyway,” she added, a new thought popping into her mind. “And I have a very special Christmas gift for you. If it pleases you, Grim and I will name our firstborn son Dermot, in your honor.”

“Indeed, we shall,” Grim agreed, nodding.

Her uncle beamed, again swiping at his eyes. “You would do that for me?”

“We will, and gladly.” Breena threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. Then she smiled as Archie stepped forward, his chest still puffed and his chin held high.