Once Upon a Highland Christmas (Highland Warriors Book 3)

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  With the great hall already so gaily decorated, there was no room to display the extra trappings. Yet there was so much stashed everywhere that traversing the hall’s aisles could prove hazardous.

  Either Clan MacGregor was prepared to celebrate Yule in grand style or the additional holiday goods were meant for somewhere else.

  “You’re taking the season to Duncreag, aren’t you?” Breena touched the MacGregor’s arm, her smile tremulous, for she was so sure of his intent that her throat swelled with emotion. “The extra greenery and mistletoe is for Archie’s hall, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, well…” The MacGregor pulled a hand down over his chin, looking embarrassed. “I lost my own wife some years back, see you? No man should suffer what MacNab’s been put through, old enemy or nae.”

  “Why did you no’ say so right away?” Grim shook his head, looking about as if he had only now noticed the mountains of decorations.

  “Could be I wanted to see if you’d be lout enough to remind me of that old favor!” Greer thrust a finger in Grim’s chest, once more cantankerous. “I ken well that you helped several of my drovers when they were set upon by cattle thieves a few years back. That doesnae mean you ought to sally up here and expect me to do your bidding.”

  “I ne’er dreamed it.” Grim accepted the ale cup a passing serving lass offered him, took a long sip. “As Archie’s man, I had to come. I’m glad to hear you’re willing to put the past behind you and—”

  “I’ll ne’er forget he’s a ring-tailed, fork-tongued weasel, even if I do feel sorry for the bastard. No’ that I should.” Greer swelled his chest. “He’s aye been a pest. Once, he stole a lassie out from under my nose. That was years ago, back when we were lads sprouting our first beards. In those days, he was right bonnie, if you’d believe it. He had had a silver tongue, which he used to woo the ladies. Most of us didn’t like him at all, I say you!”

  Greer nudged a pile of holly and ivy with his toe. “If you’d hear the truth, my real reason for helping is Flora Munzie. She’s a MacKenzie.” He glanced left and right, lowering his voice. “Devorgilla of Doon, the most far-famed cailleach in the Highlands serves that clan. I’ll no’ be going against Flora’s wishes and risk waking up one fine morn to find I’ve been turned into a newt.

  “Or worse!” He shuddered. “That Devorgilla has been known to stir much mischief.”

  “So men say.” Grim nodded.

  “As soon as Flora’s son rode off, I sent three of my own lads to rally the Gregorach and our friends.” Greer straightened, looking proud. “We’ll be there in number. If we cannae bring Archie to join in the season’s good cheer, then he’s hopeless indeed.”

  “He’ll come round.” Grim slipped his arm about Breena’s waist, pulling her against him. “I’m thinking you’ve done the same, leastways in forgiving your erstwhile enemies. I ken something about that myself.”

  “So I heard.” Greer glanced over his shoulder toward the dais end of the hall where serving lasses were just setting platters of roasted meat and other victuals on the high table. “Word was Malcolm MacDonald was at the Munzie farm. Guid kens you were at odds with that clan for years.

  “Times change, they do.” He shrugged, smoothed down his plaid. “Come dine with me now. “We’ll speak of battles, bards, and lovely ladies.”

  He took Grim and Breena by the arm, leading them around the piles of greenery, toward his high table. “I’d hear about Malcolm’s new bride. Flora’s son was in too great a hurry to share much news.”

  And so it came that Breena and Grim spent much of the night regaling Greer and his MacGregors with all the tidings they felt able to share.

  A certain long-standing debt concerning cattle thieves was agreed forgotten.

  Promises were made and assurances given that all would be done to cheer Archie at Yuletide and to keep the peace throughout the New Year and onward.

  If their clans would never be true friends, it was decided they’d at least be good neighbors.

  Greer insisted Grim and Breena spend the night enjoying the luxury of his finest guest chamber: a lavishly appointed room with rich wall hangings, silver candlesticks, and even a floor of waxed and polished oak, warmed by a scattering of furred rugs rather than the usual rushes. Best of all, so Greer, the chamber held a massive four-poster bed with tasseled damask curtains and red velvet dressings, sumptuous and inviting.

  “He has a good heart.” Breena carefully turned down the coverlets, smoothed the silken bed sheets. “Did you see all the scribing goods he’s taking to Duncreag as a gift?” She plumped the pillows, her lips curving. “He’s gathered rolls of parchment, three horn flasks of ink, and a full score of goose-feather quills.

  “He told me he hopes such goods will inspire some of the younger MacNab lads to compose poems and songs as Archie once did.” She stepped back from the bed, dusted her hands. “He wouldn’t do all that if his only reason was fear of being turned into a newt. He was jesting you. I knew it as soon as we arrived.”

  “And I’d hoped you were thinking of my kisses.” Grim moved to stand behind her, his hands warm on her shoulders as he lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. “I’ll own I’ve thought of nothing else. Except that I wish to place them somewhere else this night.”

  “Oh?” Breena turned in his arms, looking up into his face. The heat in his eyes melted her. His words made her heart start thumping hard and slow. “I’m sure I don’t understand.” She hedged, not quite bold enough to voice her suspicion. “Perhaps you should tell me where you mean?”

  “I’d rather show you.” Scooping her into his arms, he settled her on the edge of the bed and eased her back against the cushions. “You’ll remember how I stroked you last night?” he reminded her, somehow lifting her skirts and bunching them up around her hips before she realized he’d done so.

  He even parted her knees as he knelt beside the bed, his hands sliding up the inside of her thighs, opening and exposing her.

  “Oh, dear.” Breena stilled, aware of the cold air rushing over hot, needy places.

  She didn’t close her knees.

  She couldn’t possibly, because Grim’s wondrous, bliss-spending hands had reached her intimate flesh. His warm, questing fingers lit over her again and again, bringing her such pleasure she couldn’t bear it if he stopped.

  “That’s a good lass.” He breathed the praise against her knee and then touched a finger to that oh-so-magical spot that brought such intense sensation. He rubbed that place, circling and circling as he’d done before. He seduced and gentled her until she closed her eyes and rocked her hips, lost in the sweetness of his caress.

  Until something soft and hot flicked over that same tingly spot, the swirling wet heat bringing even greater, more thrilling pleasure.

  It was his tongue.

  Breena’s eyes snapped open. She almost bucked off the bed, but he only placed a big, staying hand on her stomach, holding her where she was.

  “O-o-oh…” She couldn’t believe what he was doing to her. It was outrageous. And oh so delicious.

  “How good you are, lass.” His deep voice came muffled, his dark head trapped between her thighs.

  She shifted, her movements only serving to press his face even closer to the tingly, oh-so-aroused heart of her soft woman’s flesh.

  She spread knees wider, Grim’s deep chuckle warning that she’d opened even more of herself to his view. He took advantage, pulling back to stare down at her, his dark eyes smoldering. Slowly, he lowered his head and licked her.

  She melted.

  Everything inside her, all that she was, came apart, turning liquid and spilling everywhere. Swirls of hot molten honey pooled and heated at her core. The sensations centered at that one dazzling spot and deeper still, wherever his tongue laved her. The intimacy was undeniable, a thrumming madness made more intense by the love words he murmured against her flesh, the slow-circling finger that rubbed so gently at that wondrous place of bliss.

  Nearing the brink of th
e intense release she knew was about to crash over her, she cracked her eyes, peering down to see Grim looking right at her.

  He lifted his head for a beat, his smile darkly wicked. “You taste sweeter than the nectar of the gods.” His deep voice was roughened, husky with passion. “Dinnae e’er naesay me this pleasure.”

  “I couldn’t if I wished to, it feels too good.” Breena held his gaze as she spoke true, secretly knowing she’d beg him to do this if ever he forgot.

  He lowered his head again, this time opening his mouth over her, drawing deep as if to drink her in, drowning on the very essence of her. It was too much. That glittery edge rushed her, sweeping her into forgetfulness as her body tightened and then quivered beneath him, her world once again spinning away into sweet, dark nothingness.

  Then, she didn’t know if it was hours or only moments later, she became aware of Grim’s big, strong body stretched out beside her on the bed. The sumptuous coverlet was pulled over them, its warmth, and Grim’s, chasing the night’s cold. He’d rested his face against the curve of her neck and she knew he slept because of the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.

  He held her hand, their fingers loosely entwined. And it was that intimacy, the tenderness of their joined touch that made her heart thump hard against her ribs. Whatever might come between them, nothing would ever matter more to her than making him happy.

  At first light, they’d return to Duncreag.

  Grim had said that between Flora Munzie and Greer and his Gregorach, enough folk would be on their way to bring Yule to Archie. Any further journeying was unnecessary. Indeed, they now worried too many people would arrive before they reached the stronghold.

  That Archie might send them all away, ruining their efforts before they’d had a chance to flower.

  It was a risk they couldn’t allow. So they’d make haste to ride home.

  Breena relaxed in Grim’s arms, realizing that for the first time she’d thought of Duncreag as her home.

  It was a new and comforting prospect.

  And offered so much promise that she turned her head and kissed Grim’s shoulder. “I love you, with the whole of my heart.”

  Chapter 7

  “Gone and married, have you?” Archibald MacNab, proud Highland chieftain of Duncreag Castle, surely the most splendiferous clifftop stronghold in all broad Scotland, jammed his hands on his hips. Smoke haze from the nearby great hall swirled around him, bringing the earthy-rich scent of peat and the delicious smell of roasted meat and other tempting fare. A wall torch blazed behind him, edging his head and shoulders in orange-red so he could’ve been standing at the entrance to hell and not in the heart of Duncreag. Looking fierce, he glared at Breena and Grim through narrowed eyes. “I’m thinking my ears have failed me, I am!”

  “Nae, they haven’t.” Grim didn’t back down. “You heard us right enough.”

  “It is true, my lord.” Breena offered him a smile, the knowledge making her heart thunder. She could still hear their sacred words, see the warmth in Grim’s eyes as he’d looked at her with so much love and longing. It’d been the most wondrous moment of her life.

  She stepped up to Archie, touched his arm, wanting him to feel her excitement. “We spoke our vows in the old way.” She glanced at Grim, tingling just to see him standing so close beside her. To know that he was hers and she was his, that he’d claimed her for his own, and so proudly. “I have never been happier, lord.

  “Not in all my days.” She squeezed Archie’s arm, then released him, returning to Grim. “We are blessed, and at such a special time of the year. The gods have smiled on us.”

  “Humph!” Archie thrust out his chin, his eyes like slits. “The ancients ne’er did aught good or their way wouldn’t be ‘old’ now, would it?”

  “Men of Nought abide by such laws.” Grim crossed his arms, calm as ever.

  “This is Duncreag,” Archie shot right back at him. “My lands and my castle, lest you’ve forgotten. The only ancient creeping about here is me.”

  “We know that, sir. I mean—” Breena clapped a hand to her lips, her cheeks heating.

  “See?” Archie leaned in, his brows wagging. “No one respects me, I’m aye saying.”

  “But you are loved, sir.” Breena’s heart sang to know it was true. “To be sure, men think highly of you, yet regard alone wouldn’t have brought so many here to celebrate Christmas with you. They came because they’re your friends.”

  “Pah!” Archie shook a finger at her. “Dinnae go telling such tall tales that you tie yourself in a knot you cannae undo, lassie,” he huffed, looking pleased all the same. Resplendent in his lairdly finery, his sword even gleaming at his hip, he appeared every inch the proud Highland chieftain, well-satisfied to be hosting a Yuletide feast.

  “Thon guests”—he jerked a nod toward the hall’s arched entry—“are here because Cook decided to empty my larders and because of all the free-flowing ale. And maybe because no pipers in all the Highlands play better than mine.”

  “Is that so?” Greer MacGregor appeared out of the shadows, clamped a hand on Archie’s shoulder. “Some might say my Gregorach pipers hold that honor. Truth be told, it’s their pipes gracing our ears just now.” He grinned when Archie scowled at him. “Your musicians are taking a wee break, if you’d be hearing the rights of it.”

  Archie snorted. “I thought the skirling was a bit off.”

  The MacGregor chuckled. “Always needing the last word, eh?”

  “I’m for speaking no words with the likes of you,” Archie spluttered. But he nodded gruffly, his lips twitching in an almost-smile when Greer snatched two cups of ale from a passing servant and thrust one in Archie’s hand. “If I make an exception this night, it’s only because it’s Christmas. And for these two young folk who’ve been up to such mischief.

  “Fetching you, and who kens all, from every glen within a hundred miles.” Archie brought his cup to his lips, taking a healthy swig.

  “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 co
uld 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.