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.
“As you’ve seen, Sir Dermot, good folk have come from far and wide to enjoy my Yuletide revels,” Archie boasted, hooking his arm through Uncle Dermot’s and leading him away. “Come back with me to the hall and have a heather ale and some fine Highland victuals. There’s nothing I like more than a rollicking Christmas feast and cheer.
“The more the merrier, eh?” Archie looked over his shoulder at Breena and Grim, winking. Then he and Breena’s uncle disappeared into the shadows of the stair tower. “We’ll have a grand night,” his booming voice drifted back to them, “even if some misguided folk tried to talk me out of the celebrations this year!”
Grim and Breena just looked at each other, sure Archie’s last words were meant for them.
“Did he really say that?” Breena couldn’t believe it.
“He did.” Grim laughed and pulled her into his arms, kissing her. When he tore his mouth from hers at last, his beautiful gray eyes were amused. “To be sure, he believes the Yule feasting was his idea. Just as he’ll always think everyone in the hall this night came because they missed his celebrations of old. We’ll never tell him otherwise.”
He leaned down and dropped a kiss on her brow. “Will we, Breena-lass?”
“No, we won’t.” She smiled up at him, sure she’d never been happier.
“And you won’t miss marrying an Irish prince?” Grim didn’t look at her as he asked, but Breena sensed he was serious.
“I did wed a prince.” She touched his cheek, letting her fingers glide down over his beard, the silver warrior rings that made him look so fierce and bold. “I would have no other.”
“You humble me, lass. And”—he captured her hand, kissed her fingers—“you are a princess. I aye knew it.”
“You did?” Breena lifted a brow. She felt no different than before.
Except perhaps that she loved Grim even more.
“To be sure I knew.” He turned her hand, dropped a tender kiss to her wrist. “Did I no’ once tell you to ne’er forget that things aren’t always as they seem? And that even so, other things are just that? They are what they are, however we view them. No matter what happened to you, or e’er will, you are a princess.”
“No, that isn’t what I am.” She shook her head, smiling. “I am simply yours.” She slipped her arms around him, rising on her toes to brush her lips softly over his. “And there’s a Yuletide feast in the hall. We really should be there.”
“Aye, we should.” Grim took her hand, leading the way.
“Grim, wait…” She pulled back just as they reached the hall’s arched entry. “Do you think we can make every Christmas as special as this one?”
“We can try, my love,” he agreed, pulling her close for one more kiss. “We can try.”
Epilogue
THE GREAT HALL AT DUNCREAG CASTLE
A Few Nights Later
“Isn’t she a beautiful bride?” Breena pressed a hand to her breast, her gaze on Malcolm MacDonald’s new wife, Moira, as the older couple twirled and beamed, dancing to a lively pipe tune. “She glows with love for her husband.” She glanced at Grim, standing beside her. “He’s so proud to hold her in his arms, isn’t he?”
Grim looked at her, smiling in a way that warmed her to her toes.
“I know how he feels.” Stepping closer, he smoothed her hair back from her face, for they’d just finished a wild Highland reel. “Indeed, Lady Moira is a fine-looking woman. But she cannae compare to you.
“No one can.” He reached for her hand, pressing her palm to his heart. “You are lovely in more ways than I could name and looking at you now, flushed so fetchingly and with your eyes alight—”
“My hair is mussed and my gown rumpled.” Breena glanced down and brushed at her skirts, righting them. “We danced three reels and—”
He tugged her to him, kissed her long and deep, seemingly uncaring if any of the Christmas carousers saw them. Breena didn’t mind either, returning his kiss with equal passion, clutching his shoulders as the revelers swirled and reeled around them.
“I cannae get enough of you.” Grim set her from him, his intense gray gaze holding hers. “I crave you badly, hunger for every inch of you.”
“Surely not here?” Breena glanced about, pretending to be scandalized, secretly thrilled to know how much he desired her. “You are quite bold to say the like now, here in the midst of Christmas celebrations.”
“I would shout my desire for you from the hills.” He cupped her face, looking at her with heated appreciation. “Sweet lass, I’d call in trumpeters and drum-beaters to let the world know how much I love you.”
His words made her tingle, sent delicious shivers all through her. “You are mad, a brazen charmer.”
“Nae.” He shook his head slowly. “I am a man in love, desperate for the woman I married.”
“Oh, Grim.” Breena swallowed, unable to say more for the lump rising in her thr
oat.
Releasing her, Grim glanced across the hall to where Archie held court at the high table. Greer MacGregor sat to his right, laughing heartily at something Archie was saying. Dermot O’Doherty was to Archie’s left and appeared equally amused. Turning back to Breena, Grim touched her cheek, his caress sending more quivers of delight through her.
“The Christmas celebrations will continue for days yet,” he reminded her. “You cannae expect me to act a saint that long. There isn’t a moment I dinnae want you. There’s no’ a place I can go where you aren’t on my mind, in my heart.
“Truth be told, I’d be alone with you now.” He took her hand and drew her with him to the hall’s gaily decorated entry arch. He glanced at her as they passed beneath a bower of beribboned holly and ivy and stepped into the dimly lit passage beyond. His expression was strangely somber. “Will you come with me to the Winter Tower?”
Breena blinked. She glanced down the corridor to where she knew the ancient tower waited. Late as it was, and so far from the great hall, that part of the castle would be cold, dark, and silent.
She had been enjoying the Christmas festivities. She appreciated the light and laughter, the goodwill and camaraderie among kith and kin, friends and allies, and even the clan’s erstwhile enemies.
Yet she cared for Grim more. And chose to be with him.
But there was the magical room of stars at the top of the old tower. On such a clear, still night as this one, the views would be breathtaking. She’d been enchanted when Grim had first taken her up there. That was surely his reason for wanting to return now.
“Well?” He lifted her chin, looked down at her. “Shall we slip away?”
“To be sure,” she agreed, hoping he didn’t sense her one flicker of disappointment.
Despite the magic of the room of stars, she’d expected him to sweep her into his arms and carry her up the main turret stairs to their bedchamber. She’d hoped he’d then tumble with her onto their great four-postered bed and make passionate love to her.
She bit her lip, an almost unbearable yearning inside her.
She loved him so much.
“You willnae regret it, sweet.” He leaned in, kissed her brow.
Breena blushed. “I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t have to.” He smiled, leading her around the corridor’s curve, into the shadows. “I ken you that well, my heart. We shall return to our bedchamber after we’ve visited the Winter Tower.”
Then they were at the tower’s entrance. And just as on the night before their journey, he opened the door to a rush of cold, stone-scented air.
But this time there was something else.
An unmistakably festive scent greeted them: holly and ivy, cinnamon and spice, and the rich, woodsy headiness of fresh-cut pine.
Equally surprising, a sea of tiny candles lit the way upward. Each winding step was graced by small stone jars holding the flames.
“Grim!” Breena’s eyes widened, wonder filling her. She glanced at him, her pulse quickening at the pride on his face. “What have you done?”
“Och, well…” He tugged her into the stair tower, up the circling steps. “It could be I’ve arranged a wee Christmas celebration just for us.”
“But how?” Breena’s heart beat faster as they climbed. “When did you—”
He laughed and paused on a landing to kiss her. “Remember when Lady Moira asked you to join her in encouraging Archie to share some of his storytelling skills of old? When the three of you went to sit before the hall’s fire?”
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 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.
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 merrymaking.
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” and “New” Christmas traditions. As my characters are pagan, I allowed myself creative license to write what I hope is a pleasing mix of Highland holiday customs.
For example, Archie’s Yule Log, aka the Cailleach Nollaigh or “Christmas Old Wife,” truly existed and was a crucial part of Highland holiday celebrations. It was indeed carved to resemble an old woman. Mistletoe was also 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.
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