Page 57 of Steel & Surrender

Greig let out a low, satisfied groan.

Brìghde’s grip tightened on her pie. She checked herself then, annoyed by her reaction.

She needed to keep her thoughts on things beyond her attraction to this man.

“I dropped off some horseshoes to the farrier in the castle yesterday,” she said then. “And saw many warriors training with swords in the outer courtyard … is yer father moving against the MacDonalds?”

Greig pursed his lips. “Not yet.” He paused then, his brow furrowing. “But a clash between our clans is coming.”

Brìghde stiffened, tension coiling in her chest. “I don’t understand why the MacDonalds of Sleat have taken against us,” she murmured.

Greig huffed a sigh. “It’s about power … it always is.”

They finished the rest of their meal in silence, washing it down with the sweet apple wine. However, a shadow lingered following their conversation about the MacDonalds—a reminder of the fragility of peace.

“I’ve never known war,” Brìghde said eventually. “If I’m honest, I can’t imagine trouble ever reaching Duart. I know there has been strife elsewhere, but I’ve always felt so safe there.”

Greig met her eye. “And ye remain so … as long as my father and I draw breath.”

Brìghde’s lips curved. “The Macleans protect their own.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “We do.” A half-smile tugged at his lips. “Alistair liked to read the clan histories and was always going on about how the Macleans are warriors to the core … formidable fighters … but with fierce loyalty to kin and allies.”

Brìghde nodded. That didn’t surprise her. “What else did he say about ye all?”

Greig sat back on his hands, turning his gaze to the vast view. “That we are bold seafarers, as stubborn as boars … and just as proud and independent too.”

Brìghde laughed. “That sounds about right.”

Greig flashed her a smile, and their gazes held once more.

And then, a few moments later, his expression sobered, his dark eyes shadowing.

Brìghde stilled. “What is it?”

“It’s been just over a year now since Alistair died,” he replied softly, looking away. “In the beginning, my family talked of him often. He always came up in stories, in casual observations … and I thought it would remain so. But of late, days will go by between mentions of Al.” He paused then, his throat working, even as he stared out into the mid-distance. “And sometimes, I will go a day without thinking about him.”

Silence followed this admission, and Brìghde let it lie before she finally answered. “I suppose that’s what happens … eventually. We can’t mourn forever.”

He swallowed. “It seems wrong though … that life goes on, and the dead fade. Give it a few more years, and it will be as if Al never lived at all.”

“I remember feeling as ye do,” she replied, shuffling back on the rock and drawing her knees up under her chin. “When I was wee, my grandmother came to live with us. For years, she was my companion, and then, suddenly, she wasn’t there at all. I wept every night initially, missing her so much it felt as if my heart would stop.” She paused then, as an old ache rose under her breastbone. “But then time passed, the pain eased … and I felt guilty for it.”

She glanced his way to see that he was watching her once more. “Eventually, I realized that I couldn’t cling to my sorrow without drowning. I had to let go.” His jaw flexed at this, and, without thinking, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “He’s always with ye, Greig … even when ye aren’t thinking about him. And he wouldn’t have wanted ye to carry his memory like a burden.”

Their gazes fused for a long moment, the air sharp with tension, and then he nodded. “Ye are right,” he said, his voice strained. “It’s just that it feels like … betrayal.”

“It’s not.”

Brìghde removed her hand from his arm and moved back slightly.

She remembered then the small circle of silver she’d tucked into the bodice of her kirtle. She’d told herself she’d give it to him when they reached the summit. Now seemed as good a time as any.

Drawing a deep breath, she slid her hand into her neckline and retrieved the ring.

Her pulse fluttered then, and her nerve failed her.

What if he doesn’t like it?