She only cared about the big, battle-hardened warrior looking at her with so much love and adoration, his soul stripped bare and laid before her. With one huge hand, he cupped her head, gazing deep into her eyes, almost desperately. He searched her face, intently.
“I have ne’er wanted anything more.” He seized her hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing her knuckles, her fingers. “Since you’ve told me there’s no one waiting for you in Donegal, I’ve nigh gone mad trying to find the right words to claim you. I pray you’ll no’ refuse me.”
“Oh, Grim…” Her voice broke, failing her.
He dropped to one knee before her, the gallant pose proving his purpose. “I’d make you mine, lass. I lost my heart to you the moment I set eyes upon you. I dinnae want us to assume a role. That was wrong and I’ll do it no more. I want to wed you this very night, if you’ll have me.”
“Oh, I will!” Breena dashed at her cheek, blinked back her tears. “I want nothing more. I’ve hoped for this moment so long. But…” She glanced about the small room with its simple bed and one oaken table, the nightstand that held the room’s only candle.
There wasn’t much more belowstairs either, certainly not a hidden monk or priest.
Surely Grim knew that.
So perhaps he was only speaking words that would comfort her once they’d lain together?
She didn’t want to think it, yet…
“What is it, sweet?” He stood, slipped a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face to his. “Have you changed your mind already? Will you no’ be having me then?”
Breena swallowed, not sure how to speak her concern. “We cannae be wed,” she finally blurted, rushing the words before embarrassment stayed her tongue. “There’s no one here but the Munzies and Sir Malcolm and his wife. I doubt they have the power to—”
“To wed us?” Grim surprised her by sweeping an arm around her, pulling her close. “We dinnae need a holy man’s mumbling to bless our union. Nor to make it any more binding than if we speak our intent ourselves.”
Breena pulled back, blinking up at him. Old memories rose in her mind, romantic tales sung at her uncle’s hearthside of how things were in ancient times. Both in her own beloved Ireland and the Scottish Highlands, in the bygone days of pagans and the tribes of Celts.
She’d forgotten Grim was pagan.
“You wish to marry me tonight, in the old way?” She lifted a hand to touch his beard, fingering one of its silver rings. “As my forefathers once wed and—”
“As we men of Nought still claim our lady wives, Breena.” He caught her hand, again lifting it to his lips, kissing each of her fingers. “We will have a priest say the vows later, just so no man can deny the truth of our union. But this night, if we hold hands and look into each other’s eyes, pledging our love and intent, vowing to give ourselves to no other, so long as we both shall live, on this earth and beyond, then we are as good as wed, my dear heart.
“All that I say to you, Breena O’Doherty.” Somehow he’d taken hold of her other hand, laced their fingers, and pressed their joined hands to his heart. “Will you repeat the sacred words to me?”
She did, holding his beautiful gray gaze as she spoke them, the portent of each promise filling her with so much love and such joy she could hardly believe the happiness swelling inside her.
“All that I say to you, Grim Mackintosh,” she finished, tears of wonder misting her eyes.
“Then it is done.” Grim smiled down at her and she felt a hard lump in her throat.
She couldn’t speak and her heart beat much too fast, the little room and even Grim’s beloved face blurring as her tears spilled free.
There was magic at Christmastide. And she was surely the luckiest, most blessed woman in the Highlands. No, in all broad Scotland. Who would’ve believed Grim, a noble warrior of such high standing, would want her for his bride? That he’d make her feel as if she were not just a woman but the most precious gift in all the world?
She bit her lip, blinking rapidly, scarce able to believe her good fortune.
Grim squeezed her hands and stepped back, using his thumbs to wipe her cheeks. “I’d no’ make you sad, love. No’ e’er, and I’d tear apart the fool who would dare to bring you grief.”
“I’m not crying because I’m unhappy.” She lifted up on her toes, kissing his cheek. “My tears are for joy. You’ve held my heart so long. All this time I thought you didn’t even see me.”
“I told you, lass, I suspected you pined for a Donegal lad.” He met her gaze, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I didnae want to push you. Sakes, you’d scarce glanced at any of the braw and bonnie lads who sought to catch your eye. I was sure your heart was no’ just given, but broken by your loss. To see you rebuke such promising young suitors, lads who would’ve been well matched to you…”He closed his eyes for a moment, drew a deep breath. “Plain-speaking man that I am, I’ll tell you I thought a fine wee lassie like yourself would be afeared of a great brute like me.”
“That was never the way of it.” Breena took a deep breath of her own, summoning her courage and letting her love for this man run free. “No one else interested me. Only you. Though I doubted you’d desire me, noble warring knight that you are, with highborn ladies surely vying for your attention. How could I hope to compete with such worthies? In truth, I hoped to seduce you this night. I wished to prove to you that, if not a lady, I am a woman.
“I would do that now.” She let the drying cloth fall to the floor, holding his gaze as the linen pooled around her ankles. “I know a pagan marriage is not complete until we have lain with each other. I am not afraid. I desire you and wouldn’t wait any longer.”
“Sweet lass, you’ll bring me to my knees, again.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Holding her close to his chest, he pulled back the covers with one hand and lowered her to the mattress as gently as if she were made of gossamer-spun angel wings.
“I ken you’re aching from our journey, lass.” He stepped back, drawing off his mail shirt. “I’m no’ sure suchlike is wise. No’ until—”
“You won’t hurt me.” She could see his muscles beneath his linen undertunic. She shivered, deliciously. Her heart raced and she could feel her blood rushing, her entire body warming. How could he have even considered she’d be better off with a younger, less-roughened man? She didn’t want a boy. She wanted Grim, a battle-proven warrior who she knew would love as hard and fiercely as he fought. The night candle showed his form clearly, and having him almost naked before her thrilled her so much she couldn’t look away. She silently willed him to remove his last bits of clothes.
She was naked, after all.
Though he had flipped the bed clothes back up to cover her, a gallant when she wanted a rogue.
She knew with a woman’s instinct that he burned for her. His gaze seared her skin and she’d seen his eyes darken when she’d dropped the drying cloth. She was also aware of the hard length of him beneath his hose, the thickness and size of him making her belly flutter. A man couldn’t hide his desire and Grim’s was blatant, the large bulge and its meaning utterly unmistakable.
Yet something held him back.
“You said you love me, yet you suggest we wait to join our bodies,” Breena voiced her concern, needing this night to be perfect, magical. “I have shared my feelings, so—”
“Are you no’ afraid?” His dear face looked concerned in the soft light of the candle. “If you’ve one care, a single worry, tell me and I’ll kiss each one away until nary a troublesome thought remains.”
It was then that she knew what bothered him.
Why he hesitated to claim her.
“Ralla and his men never truly touched me.” She lifted up on her elbows, uncaring that the bed coverlet slipped down to reveal her breasts. Indeed, she was glad to display them. Having him look at her with love and appreciation warmed her to the core, even curling her toes, so good was the feeling.
Emboldened, she brushed the covering
aside, freeing herself entirely to his view. “They may have used me, even taking my innocence, but they didn’t touch me, inhabit my heart and soul.
“No man has ever done that, though I am waiting for you to do so.” She let her gaze flick to his manhood, straining against his hose, and oh so prominent. “I know you want me. Then take me, Grim. Please.”
“If I even lay a finger to you there’ll be no’ stopping me.” He stepped closer to the bed, slowly shaking his head as he approached. His gray eyes were dark as charcoal as he looked over every bared inch of her. He let his gaze drift from her toes to her face and back down again, lingering along the way at the places she knew men most appreciated. “You are lovelier than winter’s first delicate snowflakes and I fear I may crush you, but—” he broke off, staring as she deliberately parted her knees, knowing what he’d see.
She couldn’t believe her daring.
But she wouldn’t let this night pass without their sealing their vows, and doing so properly.
“Bluidy hell!” His gaze locked on the wedge of red curls she’d revealed. The fierceness of his expression almost scorched her.
She bit back a smile, shifting so her thighs opened a bit more.
Doing so was her first line of offense, a seduction trick she’d once overheard in Ireland when she’d happened to stand near two joy women at a country fair. Apparently it worked, for Grim actually growled, making an almost feral sound deep in his chest as he reached up and yanked off his undertunic. He cast it aside and quickly removed his boots. Then he shoved down his hose until he was as naked as she was.
In a flash, he was on the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her ravenously. It was a bold, openmouthed kiss and he thrust his tongue deep, plundering her lips as if he drank her in, taking life-bringing sustenance from their shared breath and the heated swirls of their tongues.
“Don’t stop kissing me, please.” Breena clung to him, pulling back only long enough to voice her wish against his beard. “I couldn’t bear it.”
“Precious lass, I would kiss every inch of you and then start all over again when I’m done.” He smoothed his big warm hand up and down her side, his tongue now tangling even more languorously with hers. When he cupped her breast, rolling his thumb back and forth over her nipple, she would’ve cried out at the pleasure if she hadn’t wanted him to keep kissing her.
“I’ll kiss you always, my love,” he promised, as if he’d heard her thoughts. “Even when I am in you, indeed, I’ll kiss you most thoroughly then.”
“I’m on fire now.” Breena was, for he’d captured her wrists in one hand, lifting her arms over her head. He stopped kneading her breasts and let that hand glide lower, down the smooth expanse of her belly, and to the wondrous place that tingled so deliciously. “I can’t bear any more—”
“Aye, you can.” He locked gazes with her as he skimmed his fingers oh-so-lightly over her feminine curls. Not quite touching her, but so close to doing so that each pass of his stroking fingertips was the most exquisite torment. “A woman should aye be caressed into pleasure.” He cupped her then, squeezing slightly, the unexpected pressure so heady, so incredibly pleasurable, that she rocked her hips, needing more, aching for something both urgent and indescribable. “Only when you are well and truly ready, will I take you, my heart.”
“I want you now.” Breena bit her lip, tingling warmth spooling everywhere. He kept circling his fingers over her, so gently the sensations were both maddeningly pleasing and wickedly frustrating. His touch was deliberate and light, his hand working magic, taking her higher and higher into a glorious realm that was surely the home of angels.
“Please, hurry, I can’t bear it,” she gasped when he traced one long finger gently down the center of her. “Please, don’t make me wait.”
“So eager are you, my minx?” He lifted his hand, stopping the caresses.
“Yes!” Breena raised her hips again, seeking his pleasure-spending fingers. She would die if he didn’t touch her again.
When he arched a brow, looking amused, she knew she’d spoken the last words aloud.
“Nae, you willnae,” he said, confirming it. He watched her carefully, one corner of his mouth hitching up in a smile that melted her. “But it might feel that way when I do this…”
He stopped running one finger up and down the length of her and touched a spot that sent rippling streams of intense pleasure spiraling all through her. When he began circling that place, rubbing slowly but insistently, she inhaled sharply. Her world darkened and then shattered, splitting wide to cast her into a dazzling sea of such reckless, unrestrained sensation that her entire body quivered.
“Oh, my…” She turned her head to the side, closing her eyes as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. “What have you done?”
“Only what I intend to do every day of our lives together, please you again and again.” He lowered his head and kissed her, this time long, deep, and slow. They melded against each other, sinking into the kiss so that it was sweet, wondrous, and so right that her heart swelled with such fierce love she could hardly contain the happiness inside her.
“I’ve waited so long to have you.” Grim pulled back, looked deep into her eyes. “Now you are mine. I love you more than my own life. I’m just no’ sure what you see in me.”
“My entire world, that’s what.” She slipped one hand around his nape, drawing him closer so they could kiss again. She’d never have enough of his kisses, not even if they lived a thousand years.
Then she heard the rustle of the bed sheets as, still kissing her, he eased her onto her back and rolled on top of her. He braced his weight on his arms and reached down between them, grasping himself to nudge his hardness against her, parting and gliding into her, making her his at last.
He kept his hand on her intimate flesh, resting one finger gently atop the sensitive place she hadn’t known existed. He rubbed her there, a light circling touch that again brought her so much bliss as he stroked in and out of her. She gripped his shoulders, knowing how much she pleased him when he inhaled sharply and his entire body jerked, the hot seed of his release spilling inside her.
“Breena,” he hissed her name, straining, his head thrown back as he stared up at the room’s black-raftered ceiling. “Sweet, sweet lass, I love you so.”
“And I you.” She thrust her fingers into his hair, gripping tight as her own pleasure crested again. The wonder of it, the delicious fullness of having him so intimately joined to her, flowed over her as a molten tide, stunning and glorious. She arched in delight, her world narrowing until she only knew darkness and sensation. Then, as if from a great distance yet still close, Grim’s words of love.
She must’ve slept, because the cold wakened her some hours later. She saw at once that it was still night, for the moon had risen. Silvery light slipped through the shutter slats, giving the room a pearly luminescence. The wind had died and in the stillness she caught the rush of the burn that ran through the farm’s birchwood.
She scarce noticed, because Grim had left the bed.
The sheets beside her were chilled, so he must’ve been gone a while.
For a beat, panic seized her. Had she disappointed him in some way? Did he regret his avowals of love and, especially, making her his wife in the old way of the ancients? Could he have remembered her lowly birth and changed his mind about their union, deciding he did indeed need a gentle-born wife? Had he perhaps left her?
She pushed the notions aside as soon as they came to her.
He’d made his feelings clear, opened his heart to her.
She didn’t doubt him.
But she did miss him, his warmth and the feel of his great, hard-muscled body next to her.
“I was thanking my gods for the gift of you, that is all.” His deep voice came from the shadows, a corner with a window edged silver by the moon.
He stood there, full naked and magnificent, the pale light gilding him so that he could have passed for one of the
Norse gods he worshipped.
He smiled, at ease with his nakedness.
Breena began to tingle again, wondering if he’d always affect her powerfully. She suspected he would.
She swallowed, lifting her gaze when his manhood twitched and started to grow, the proof of his desire thrilling her.
“Do you often speak to your gods?” It was all she could think to say.
“Thor, Odin, and the rest of them aye do what they will and most times are too busy amusing themselves to bother with mortal men. But”—he came over to her, drawing her into his arms, warming her—“it doesn’t hurt to give gratitude when such a treasure as you is put in our path.”
Breena looked up at him. “You believe the gods brought us together?”
“I do.” He sounded sure. “Fate is inexorable.”
Out of nowhere a shiver sped down Breena’s spine. Leaning into Grim’s broad, powerfully muscled chest, she glanced at the bed where, according to the laws of the Old Ones, he’d claimed her body and soul, making her his bride.
She couldn’t bear to lose him.
“I’ll ne’er let us be parted, dinnae you worry.” He tightened his arms around her, stroking her back as his words only increased her chill. “The gods wouldn’t be so cruel. And I’d cut down the mortal man who’d dare attempt to take you from me.”
Breena didn’t say anything, just rested her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes, relishing the closeness, the intimacy of being naked in his arms.
Words weren’t good right now.
Not with the odd prickles at her nape and the shiver that had chilled her so.
She, too, trusted in the old ways. She couldn’t shake the feeling all wasn’t right in their world. Something was stirring beneath the surface. And it had to do with her and Grim.
She hoped she was wrong.
Yule was a time of joyous wonders. And the spirit of Christmas had been good to her, blessing her with her heart’s most fervent desire.
So she’d trust in the magic of the season.
It was all she could do.
Once Upon A Highland Christmas Page 8