Once Upon A Highland Christmas by Sue-Ellen Welfonder Page A

morning, journeying ever farther from Duncreag and making for Greer MacGregor’s distant Yule beacon.
    Once there, Grim was sure he could persuade the sometimes cantankerous laird to forget past ills and make merry with Archie at Duncreag.
    Truth be told, Grim had an old favor to claim from the MacGregor.
    He’d use it if Greer proved obstinate, forgetful of those who’d aided him in the past.
    And when the MacGregor hall torches dimmed that night and the last ale was served, the castle quieting for sleep, he’d turn his attention to Breena. The gods knew he’d waited long enough to reveal his feelings to her. He’d been under her spell for over a year now, his longing for her almost driving him to madness.
    Such yearning wasn’t good for a man.
    But he’d done naught about it, suspecting as he had that she longed for another. Why else had she always avoided him? So he’d suffered in silence, seeing her face in his dreams and imagining he caught her light, spring-fresh scent on every turn of the wind. Only with the greatest exercise of will did he keep from dwelling on what it’d be like to sink deep inside her, claiming her as his own, heart, body, and soul. Taking her in the intimate, branding way men must possess the woman they love above all others.
    Sometimes his will failed him. How he agonized then, the heated images he conjured setting him like granite, robbing his night’s rest.
    He wanted her badly.
    And now he knew no man stood between them.
    He loved her fiercely. So much that he’d still back away, leaving her in peace, if she rejected his advances. He wasn’t a man to force himself on any woman, certainly not on Breena, whom he’d carry on his hands if she’d let him, never allowing her feet to touch the ground.
    To him, she wasn’t just a lady, but a princess.
    He almost feared to touch her. He worried his huge, battle-roughened hands might crush her.
    Yet her challenge at Duncreag’s cliff gate encouraged him. He’d never have believed such a fair and fine maid as her would fall for a big, gruff ox of a man like him, perhaps even desiring him. Their kiss, the things she said, and the way she looked at him lifted his heart, letting him believe she might feel the same.
    That she also believed they belonged together.
    He hoped he was right.
    Anything else would break him.
    Several hours and many snowy miles later, Breena did her best to hide her relief when she spotted a yellow light gleaming in the pines not too far ahead of them. She didn’t mind the cold. Her words to Archie about loving winter had been true. But she wasn’t an accomplished rider. No matter how deftly she sought to keep her saddle, she’d spent most of the journey bouncing on its hard, leather seat. As a result, she was now quite sore, plagued by a bone-deep ache she didn’t care to disclose.
    So she was most pleased they’d soon reach the comfort of Greer MacGregor’s hall.
    There was only one thing worrying her.
    The flickering light they were riding toward was just that: a flicker and no balefire.
    “Grim!” She risked a sidelong glance at him, no longer afraid to do so because they’d finally slowed their pace, now that their destination was near. “I thought a Yule beacon would be larger?”
    “They are.” He looked over at her, flashed his crooked smile. “Huge piles o’ wood that blaze higher than a mountain. Thon light ahead isn’t the MacGregor’s Yule fire. We’re nowhere near the MacGregor tower. What you see is candle- or torchlight from the farmhouse we’ll stop at shortly.
    “ ’Tis Fergus Munzie’s holding and way too small to host grand Yuletide feastings.” He turned his attention back to the narrow woodland track they were following. “Fergus ne’er lights a Yule beacon.”
    “Then why are we going there?” Breena hoped he hadn’t guessed her discomfort.
    To her surprise, Grim chuckled. “Fergus’s wife, Flora, is the reason. You’ll understand when you meet her. She’s a