Page 68 of Steel & Surrender

But there he was, standing in the doorway to her forge, his broad shoulders blocking out the pale sunlight. The day was grey, and the clouds hung low over Duart. The light that streamed in through the open door had grown weaker as the afternoon drew on, and when Eòghan had gone out to fill the slack tub earlier, he’d warned of storm clouds rolling in from the west. As such, they’d lit lanterns inside to give them enough light to work by. The warm glow of the firelight kissed the proud lines of Greig’s face. He wore a somber expression, his big body tense.

Worry fluttered up as Brìghde straightened and turned to face him fully. “Is something amiss, Maclean?”

He shook his head. “I was passing by and thought we might have a talk.” His gaze flicked then to where Eòghan had also straightened up from the anvil and was now observing him with unabashed curiosity. “Alone.”

Brìghde stiffened. Her first impulse was to deny him.

Just the sight of him made the world tilt slightly.

Being alone with him was a bad idea.

Yet, when she didn’t answer, he folded his arms across his broad chest, his lips pursing slightly. The man looked as if he was readying himself for a fight.

Lord, she wanted to give him one. But she was also aware of Eòghan’s sharp curiosity. His attention flicked between them, as if he too could taste the palpable tension.

Temper smoldering, Brìghde caught her brother’s eye. “We’re done here,” she said, digging into the purse on her belt and handing him half a penny. “Go and get yerself an ale. The alewife will have opened up by now.”

Her brother hesitated, leery of leaving her, and yet at the same time pleased that he’d been allowed to finish early and been given money for ale. She had never done so before, telling him he was too young to drink with the others at the alewife’s.

Decision made, Eòghan’s fingers closed around the coin, and he moved on, giving Greig a nod as the clan-chief’s heir stepped aside to let him pass. “Maclean.”

“Eòghan.” Greig’s lips tilted at the corners. “Enjoy yer ale.”

A moment later, the lad had gone, and silence settled in the forge.

Reaching for a cloth, Brìghde wiped her sooty fingers clean. “What is it, Maclean?”

She was aware her tone was less than friendly, but the man put her on edge. What did they have to say to each other?

“Maclean, is it now?” he said, approaching her. His limp was better today, she noted. He’d clearly been resting it. Wise, for he needed that leg to be strong in preparation for the Games. She caught herself then, vexed that she marked such things. That she cared.

Ye are nothing to the man, and he should mean nothing to ye.

They were hollow words, though. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She couldn’t remain impartial where Greig was concerned.

“I prefer it when ye call me by my given name,” he said, halting around three feet from her. “I thought we were friends, at least.”

She couldn’t help it. Her lip curled. Friends? That made it sound like they were equals. And clearly they were not. “And yer reason for visiting me, Greig?”

At three feet away, it felt as if the forge had shrunk. This man had such a powerful presence. Having him stand this near seemed to suck the air right out of her lungs. Dizziness assailed her.

Glancing down, she caught a glint of silver upon his right hand.

Her heart bucked. The ring. He was wearing it.

Flustered, she jerked her chin up, meeting his eye.

“I wanted to look in on ye,” he said, his expression sobering once more, “to make sure all was well.”

“And clearly, ye can see everything is.”

He stepped closer. “Everything appears to be.”

He was far too near now, and Brìghde moved back, coming up short when the backs of her thighs hit the solid bulk of the anvil. The cold iron bit through her skirts as she backed into it—nowhere left to go. Cods. He had her cornered.

“I’m afraid I hurt ye the other day,” he said then, lowering his voice, as if worried they might be overheard. And indeed, the door to the forge was open. Anyone could walk by. Anyone could drop in to ask Brìghde to do a job. He was taking a risk, even after sending Eòghan away, speaking to her like this.

“Ye didn’t,” she lied, clinging to the pretense that she didn’t care.