Read Online Once Upon A Highland Christmas by Sue-Ellen Welfonder - Free Book Online Page B

swords in bad times and shared ale and bread in the good ones since.” Grim smiled and clasped the aged MacDonald warrior’s arms when he appeared at their side. Tall and clearly a man who’d been dashingly handsome in youth, Malcolm was still striking with his gray hair pulled back into in a long plait that fell just below his still-broad shoulders and his salt-and-pepper beard neatly trimmed.
    Above all, he appeared buoyed by an inner happiness strongly reflected by his new wife, Lady Moira, who looked so much like Flora that Breena could only tell them apart because of Moira’s shining pleasure. The glow of those deeply in love, as Breena’s Aunt Mell would’ve said.
    How odd that she’d swear Grim wore it, too.
    “I wish you all the world’s happiness, Malcolm,” Grim was saying, still gripping the older man’s arms. “It’s a joy to meet you here, in the company of my own soon-to-be-wife, rather than on a battlefield as in days of old.”
    “I’ll no’ argue that, laddie.” Malcolm grinned, wrapping an arm around his bride as soon as Grim released him. “I just wish I’d wed my Moira when I was your age, when we would’ve had all our days before us.”
    “You could have done if you’d wished.” Lady Moira lifted up on her toes to kiss Malcolm’s cheek. “If I recall, I even begged you to do so.”
    “So you did.” Her husband didn’t deny it. “I was a fool, for sure.”
    Breena glanced at Grim, surprised to see he’d gone to stand before the fire, frowning as he stared down into the softly glowing peats.
    “Aye, well!” Fergus Munzie’s deep voice boomed. “ ’Tis a right good thing all men present ken what’s best for them, eh, laddies? We need a woman’s warmth and loving heart. Such treasures matter more than all the feuding and wars we sometimes get ourselves into, what?
    “No’ to mention the other delights they give us.” Winking broadly, he reached out to pinch Flora’s generously curved hip when she walked past him bearing a tray of brimming ale tankards. “Speaking o’ which”—he glanced at Grim and Breena—“you’ll no’ be riding on this e’en. There’s a fine newly made bed in our last unoccupied room abovestairs. The two of you will sleep there tonight, after we’ve feasted and lifted our tankards to Malcolm and Moira, and Grim and Breena. I’ll no’ be accepting a refusal.”
    “He’s right, lass.” Flora set her ale tray on the table, flashed a smile at Breena. “Greer MacGregor’s tower house has stood hundreds of years. It’ll not vanish in the night, disappearing before you and Grim and ride there on the morrow. I’ve a fine venison stew simmering, roasted capon, a fine, butter-basted goose, and more loaves of fresh-baked bread than twenty hungry men can put away. And”—she winked at her husband—“my cheese and gooseberry pasties are the best in the land.”
    “So they are, so they are.” Fergus raised his tankard, saluting her. “As it’s Christmas, she’s even made a batch of spice cakes.”
    “And we’ve brought you a pouch each of ginger, cinnamon, and almonds.” Grim looked up from the fire, his words surprising Breena, his thoughtfulness again proving his goodness. “They’re in my saddlebags. Duncreag’s Cook thought Flora might appreciate them, this time of year. There’s also a flask of Archie’s best uisge beatha.”
    Flora and Fergus beamed thanks. “That wasnae necessary, but good of you.” Fergus set down his ale, looking most pleased indeed.
    Breena shifted, uncomfortable. The Munzies’ gregarious welcome reminded her so much of her Uncle Dermot and Aunt Mell. Worse, each time Grim spoke of them as a couple, she felt a terrible hollow ache in her heart. She hoped to use this journey to fill that emptiness, to replace it with love.
    What if she failed?
    She didn’t think she could bear it.
    She also needed air, worried that these happy couples might have the opposite effect on Grim, reminding him of wedded