Breena nodded, her eyes beginning to mist. “You asked her to do that?”
“It was necessary so that Malcolm, Greer, and I could carry a few things up to the room of stars. Your uncle also helped.” Grim took her hand and started leading her upward again, his pace quicker now. “You’ll see in a moment.”
“And the candles?” Breena glanced at the tiny lights flanking every step. “They haven’t been burning long, not as small as they are.”
Grim chuckled. “Well met, my lady wife. Aye, two kitchen laddies lit the candles as we danced. That’s why I insisted on three reels.”
“You planned all this?” Breena’s heart was near to bursting now.
“So I did.” Not denying it, Grim led her around the stair’s last curve.
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 festive 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
Dear Readers,
Thank you for reading Once Upon a Highland Christmas. I hope Grim and Breena’s tale lifted your heart and perhaps misted your eyes a bit. Above all, I hope you enjoyed accompanying this special pair on their quest to return holiday cheer to Duncreag and, of course, old Archie.
I love this story for many reasons, a large one being Grim. Once Upon a Highland Christmas was originally published in 2012 by Hachette Book Group, also known as Grand Central Publishing. My then-editor believed a holiday novella would be a lovely addition to my Highland Warriors trilogy…
Sins of a Highland Devil
Temptation of a Highland Scoundrel
Seduction of a Highland Warrior
I agreed, and immediately knew that Grim had to be the hero, Breena his heroine, and that dear Archie needed a happy-ever-after as well. Grim stole my heart when he first appeared in Highland Warriors book 2, Temptation of a Highland Scoundrel. I’ll be a crazy-mad writer for a moment and say I was typing away, felt someone’s gaze on me, turned around and there he was standing in the shadows of my office, letting me know he wanted a strong role in the series.
And, of course, who was I to deny him?
Characters always know best.
He is here again now, but this time he’s telling me to leave him be and get on with this Author’s Note. He says Breena needs his attention, and so he must slip away. He’s promised her a fine romantic evening before the fire, complete with spiced ale, cheese, and oatcakes, a few plaids for extra comfort, and a castle dog or two, just because. (Grim loves animals) So we’ll let him go. After all, who are we to deny Grim and Breena such pleasure?
If you’re still with me, the following are some reflections on their story…
Christmas in medieval Scotland ~ 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.
Therefore, I’d like to note that at the time this story takes place, Highlanders celebrated Yule and Winter Solstice with as much gusto as modern-day Scots enjoy today’s Christmas merry-making.
In medieval Scotland, Auld Yule fell on January 5, because the Julian Calendar was still in place. This practice continued for several centuries, causing the holiday festivities to be celebrated twice in many parts of Scotland. This was done with a blend of old (pagan) and new (Christian) Christmas traditions. I allowed myself creative license to write what I hope is a pleasing mix of Highland holiday customs…
Archie’s Yule Log ~ Aka the Cailleach Nolla
igh or Old Christmas Wife, these logs were a crucial part of Highland holiday celebrations. They were indeed carved to resemble an old woman.
Mistletoe ~ An ancient part of pagan Yule and every bit as important as in the story. Held sacred since the dimmest mists of time, mistletoe was known as ‘All-Heal’ by the Druids, who had strict rules for gathering it and for its use. Mistletoe’s connection to the season goes far deeper than merely offering an opportunity for kissing, also having been believed to ensure fertility, which would’ve been important in a time of the year when the world was so cold and still.
Yule Beacons ~ The Yule beacons Grim and Breena appreciate during their journey were reflections of the Midwinter Solstice balefires that would’ve blazed far and wide across the Highland hills, lighting the night darkness.
There are so many wonderfully fascinating customs from those distant times and it was hard to choose only a few. I hope the traditions I settled on lend festive atmosphere and fun to the story.
I’d also like to note that although Duncreag Castle, the nearby Glen of Many Legends, and other locations are purely fictional, Breena’s home, Inishowen in Donegal, Ireland, actually exists…
Breena’s Ireland ~ There really were O’Doherty Lords of Inishowen. The name is ancient, and they descend from the legendary hero Niall of the Nine Hostages, who was a great champion and perished at a jousting tournament in AD 405. Breena’s forebears were a warring folk and would have been in her time as well. There were great power struggles and much fighting among the rulers of the day, including between relatives. Breena’s fate, having been given in secret for safekeeping to a trusted agent of her sire, could well have happened. She wouldn’t have been the first noble child to have been placed into such care, neither in Ireland nor in Highland Scotland.
Buncrana Castle ~ A real castle, though its true name is O’Doherty’s Keep. It stands to this day, a romantic ruin overlooking Trawbreaga Bay and offering splendid views of the Donegal coast. If you visit Inishowen, you can walk about its crumbling splendor.
Breena’s Past ~ For centuries, Vikings made frequent raids on this area, so Breena’s capture by Ralla and his men was not a stretch of writerly imagination. Her home was prime raiding territory, with the Northmen even claiming the land and setting up a trading post there from the ninth through the twelfth centuries. In the thirteenth century, Breena’s O’Dohertys arrived and made Inishowen their own. They ruled until 1610.
Aside from the historical realities behind the telling of Once Upon a Highland Christmas, Yuletide magic accompanied me through the typing of every word.
One last tidbit…
Aye ~ It’s likely that most readers of Scottish romance know this, but if not: Aye doesn’t just mean yes. It also means ‘always’ and is used as such in the text of this story.
Thank you again for reading Once Upon a Highland Christmas. However you celebrate, may the spirit of the season warm your heart and brighten your holiday.
Wishing you Highland Magic!
Sue-Ellen Welfonder
(aka Allie Mackay)
Sneak Peek - Sins of a Highland Devil
If you haven’t yet enjoyed my Highland Warriors series, please enjoy a preview of the first book in this thrilling series…
Sins of a Highland Devil
Highland Warriors Book 1
When the Scottish King commands three feuding clans to resolve their dispute with a trial by combat, proud Highland warrior James Cameron ‘The Devil’ soon learns that he’s fighting for much more than his beloved glen and that his greatest triumph will be winning the love of beautiful Catriona MacDonald, his enemy’s headstrong sister.
Chapter 1
Blackshore Castle
The Glen of Many Legends
Autumn 1396
“A battle to the death?”
Alasdair MacDonald’s deep voice rose to the smoke-blackened rafters of his great hall. Across that crowded space, his sister, Lady Catriona, stood frozen on the threshold. Alasdair’s harsh tone held her there, but she did lift a hand to the amber necklace at her throat. A clan heirloom believed to protect and aid MacDonalds, the precious stones warmed beneath her fingers. She fancied they also hummed, though it was difficult to tell with her brother’s roar shaking the walls. Other kinsmen were also shouting, but it was Alastair’s fury that echoed in her ears.
His ranting hit her like a physical blow.
Her brother was a man whose clear blue eyes always held a spark of humor. And his laughter, so rich and catching, could brighten the darkest winter night, warming the hearts and spirits of everyone around him.
Just now he paced in the middle of his hall, his handsome face twisted in rage. His shoulder-length auburn hair – always his pride – was untidy, looking wildly mussed as if he’d repeatedly thrust angry fingers through the finely-burnished mane.
“Sakes! This is no gesture of goodwill.” His voice hardened, thrumming with barely restrained aggression. “Whole clans cut down. Good men murdered and for naught, as I and my folk see it!”
Everywhere, MacDonalds grumbled and scowled.
Some shook fists in the air, others rattled swords. At least two spat on the rush-strewn floor and a few had such fire in their eyes it was almost a wonder that the air didn’t catch flame.
Only one man stood unaffected.
A stranger, Catriona saw him now because one of her cousins moved and torchlight caught and shone on the man’s heavily-bejeweled sword belt.
She stared at the newcomer, not caring if her jaw slipped. She did step deeper into the hall’s arched entry, though her knees shook badly. She also forgot to shut the heavy oaken door she’d just opened wide. Cold damp wind blew past her, whipping her hair and gutting candles on a nearby table. A few wall torches hissed and spit, spewing ashes at her, but she hardly noticed.
What was a bit of soot on her skirts when the quiet peace of Blackshore had turned to chaos?
When Alasdair spoke of war?
As chief to their clan, he wasn’t a man to use such words lightly. And even if he were, the flush on his face and the fierce set of his jaw revealed that something dire had happened. The stranger – a Lowland noble by his finery – didn’t bode well either.
Men of his ilk never came to Blackshore.
The man’s haughty stance showed that he wasn’t pleased to be here now. And unlike her brother, he’d turned and was looking right at her. His gaze flicked over her and then he lifted one brow, almost imperceptibly.
His opinion of her was palpable.
The insolence in that slightly arced brow, a galling affront.
Annoyance stopped the knocking of her knees and she could feel her blood heating, the hot color sweeping up her neck to scald her cheeks.
The man looked amused.
Catriona was sure she’d seen his lips twitch.
Bristling, she pulled off her mud-splattered cloak and tossed it on a trestle bench. She took some satisfaction in seeing the visitor’s eyes widen and then narrow critically when he saw that the lower half of her gown was as wet and soiled as her mantle. She had, after all, just run across the narrow stone causeway that connected her clan’s isle-girt castle with the loch shore.
She’d raced to beat the tide. But even hurrying as she had, the swift-moving current was faster. She’d been forced to hitch up her skirts and splash through the swirling water, reaching the castle gates just before the causeway slipped beneath the rising sea loch.
It was a mad dash that always exhilarated her. As she did every day, she’d burst into the hall, laughing and with her hair in a wild tangle from the wind. Now she might look a fright, but her elation was gone.
“What’s happened?” She hurried forward to clutch Alasdair’s arm, dread churning in her belly. “What’s this about clans being cut down? A battle-”
“Not a true battle.” Alasdair shot a glance at the Lowlander. “A trial by combat-”
“I see no difference.” She raised her chin, not wanting the stranger to se
e her worry. It was clear he’d brought this madness. That showed in the curl of his lip, a half-sneer that revealed his disdain for Highlanders.
Alasdair noticed, too. She hadn’t missed the muscle jerking in his jaw.
She tightened her grip on him. “If men are to die, what matters the name you cast on their blood?”
Behind her, someone closed the hall door. And somewhere in the smoke-hazed shadows, one of her kinsmen snarled a particularly vile curse. Catriona released her brother’s arm and reached again for her amber necklace. She twirled its length around her fingers, clutching the polished gems as if they might answer her. Her own special talisman, the ambers often comforted her.
Now they didn’t.
Worse, everyone was staring at her. The Lowlander eyed her as if she were the devil’s own spawn. He surely saw her fiery-red hair as the brand of a witch. Almost wishing she was – just so she could fire-blast him – she straightened her back and let her eyes blaze. MacDonald pride beat through her, giving her strength and courage.
She turned to Alasdair. “You needn’t tell me this has to do with the Camerons or the Mackintoshes. I can smell their taint in the air.”
“My sister, Lady Catriona.” He addressed the Lowlander, not her. “She sometimes forgets herself.”
“I but speak the truth. As for my appearance, I was enjoying the day’s brisk wind – a walk in our hills.” She flicked her skirts, righting them. “Had I known we had guests” – she met the man’s hooded gaze – “I would have returned before the tide ran.”
It was the only explanation he’d get from her.
Once Upon a Highland Christmas (Highland Warriors Book 3) Page 13