The door to the room of stars stood open. No candles burned here, but none were needed. As before, silvery moonlight illuminated the perfectly round chamber. And once again, the night-glossed stone of the floor and walls looked smooth as a mirror.
But this time the room wasn’t empty.
“Oh, my!” Breena’s eyes rounded as Grim led her inside. She clasped both hands to her heart as she looked about at the transformation.
Christmas had come to the Winter Tower.
Cushions and plaid blankets in the Mackintosh and MacNab tartans were heaped on the stone benches of the room’s six window embrasures. Thick wolfskin rugs covered the cold stone of the polished floor, while red-ribboned swags of pine decorated the walls. Holly and ivy were everywhere, and a glistening ball of mistletoe hung from the ceiling. A basket of pine cones sat inside the little fireplace with its cone-shaped hood carved with soaring birds. As a final touch, a plaid-draped table held an offering of cheese, a tray of spiced Christmas cakes, and a jug of heather ale.
“Grim!” Breena turned to face him, grasped his hands. “This is truly a wonder. And the stars, there are even more than last time.” She glanced at the nearest window arch, astonished by the glittering display. “It is almost as if they’re twinkling just for us.”
“They may well be.” Grim squeezed her hands, pulled her close. “It is said they look on lovers fondly, granting wishes and watching over those who love true.”
Her heart still racing, Breena rested her head against his chest, her gaze on the window. The stars were exceptionally brilliant, their dazzling light making the window’s stone ledge sparkle as if a few of the stars had fallen to earth, coming down to kiss the Winter Tower.
Indeed…
“Grim, look!” She broke away from him, starting toward the alcove. “Doesn’t the stone glitter as if a star—” She froze, her gaze locking on the sparkle she’d thought was reflected moonglow or starlight.
It was neither.
A small silver ring sat on the ledge, its quartz center shining like a star.
“Oh, no-o-o…” She clapped both hands to her cheeks, unable to speak past the thickness in her throat.
“Och, aye, my heart.” Grim stepped into the alcove, coming back with the ring. “This is no’ a fallen star, but a wee token of my love for you.”
He took her hand, slipping the ring on her finger. “I had it fashioned from one of my beard rings. The stone hails from my beloved home, Nought territory in the Glen of Many Legends.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissed her fingers, the quartz of the ring. “Someday I shall take you there. Once Archie and his garrison here are settled, we shall go there to live, raising many fine sons, and a few bonnie daughters as well.”
Breena nodded, dashed at her eyes.
She still couldn’t speak, for her heart was too full.
Pulling away from Grim, she went into the alcove and gazed out at the river of stars blazing across the sky. Never had she dreamed it was possible to be so happy, to love so much that even the vastness of the heavens would be hard-pressed to contain her joy.
“You are pleased with your Christmas gift?” Grim stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against his chest.
“I am, more than I can say.” She was trembling with her happiness, knew he could tell and would understand. “But I do not have anything for you.”
“Nae, my heart, you are everything to me.” He tightened his arms around her and, she could scarce believe it, she felt a quiver go through him as well. “This is the best Yule I have ever known.
“And”—his voice roughened as he released her, turning her to face him—“once we’ve enjoyed a wee repast here, I’m carrying you all the way to our bedchamber where I intend to make it an unforgettable Christmas for you, too.”
“It already is.” Breena smiled, her pulse really thundering now.
But before she let Grim lead her over to the little table, spread with so many Christmas delights, she turned back to the window arch one last time. She wanted to thank the gods for her blessings.
She’d never know for sure, but she’d have sworn the heavens brightened as she did.
“Ah, Grim.” She held out a hand to him, her heart splitting when he took it, lacing their fingers. “It was a magical Christmas, wasn’t it?” She glanced again at the window. “This truly is a room of stars.”
“Indeed, my love.” He followed her gaze. “And you outshine them all.”
Author’s Note
The Scottish Highlands are magnificent in all seasons, but at Christmas, an extra-special magic lends even more enchantment to the snowy hills and glens. I love Christmas and have always wanted to write a holiday story. Once Upon a Highland Christmas combines my enjoyment of the season with my deep passion for Scotland and its traditions.