Page 53 of Steel & Surrender

“It still matters,” she replied earnestly. “They are yer brother’s wishes, and ye honor him.” She paused then. “I’d say he’s watching over ye, Greig. Cheering ye on.”

Greig snorted a laugh, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. “Aye, well … I can’t let him down … not now.” He paused then. “Do ye mind if we meet twice a week until the Games … just to ensure I’m ready?” He glanced her way once more. “After ye have finished work for the day, of course.”

“Can ye spare the time?” she asked, even as something treacherous tightened in her belly.

Of course, she didn’t mind. The opposite, in fact.

She welcomed being able to see him twice a week. Sometimes, Greig wasn’t the best conversationalist, letting long silences stretch between them. But she didn’t care. She’d never been a woman to prattle anyway.

And when they did talk, their conversations were interesting, revealing. Greig didn’t waste words. Everything that he said held meaning, and she liked that about him.

Oh Lord, she liked too many things about him these days.

This was no passing fancy. And that made it dangerous.

Just two more months until the Harvest Games. After that, he would have no reason to spend time with her.

And she would have no excuse to see him.

Disappointment flickered up, but she viciously quashed it.

No. Her heart was foolish, and she’d entertained this weakness too long. It was time to be practical.

“So,” she said, rising from the upturned pail, “June is upon us … are ye up to facing Ben More?”

Her gaze met his in a direct challenge, and he grinned back. “Aye, next Sunday it is.”

A light breeze snagged tendrils of hair from Brìghde’s braid as she rode alongside Greig.

They’d set off early this morning, both forgoing Sunday Mass to make an early start. Climbing to the summit of Ben More and then returning home in one day would be quite a task, made possible only by the fact that the sun rose early and set late in the summer.

Brìghde stifled a yawn. She’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning in her cot by the hearth, her mind too active to let her rest, her nerves strung tight.

Climbing Ben More wasn’t for the faint-hearted. She’d done it just over three summers earlier with her father. He’d been determined to climb it one last time, to see Mull before his sight was taken from him. It had been a grueling climb for them both. She was older now, possibly even fitter and stronger than she had been, and Greig had prepared for this day too.

But the challenging climb wasn’t what set her nerves on edge.

Today was a milestone. It signaled the beginning of the end of a time that had been bittersweet. A time she would cherish until her dying day.

“Ye’re deep in thought this morning.”

Greig’s voice drew her from her brooding.

They’d ridden west, skirting Beinn Talaidh, and were leaving the low ground now, riding up the lower slopes of Ben More. Above them, the mountain loomed, a dark shape against a cloud-streaked sky. It was possible to complete this part on horseback. The ground was springy underfoot, and although there were patches of bracken that nearly reached waist height, they easily avoided them. The swathes of heather weren’t yet in bloom.

“Just readying myself for our task,” she answered, cutting him a sidelong look.

Greig looked dangerously attractive this morning. His dark hair was secured at the nape of his neck. He wore a loose lèine with a padded gambeson on top, for the breeze had been cool as they set off. His lower half was clad in a pair of chamois braies tucked into well-worn hunting boots.

As always, he carried a dirk at his hip. Every Highland warrior did, even if he was traveling somewhere safe.

He’d rolled up the sleeves of his gambeson and lèine, revealing muscular, tanned forearms dusted in dark hair. And she found herself eyeing the masculine lines of his arms, her mouth going dry.

He caught her looking then, his lips quirking.

Embarrassment flushed over Brìghde, and she cut her gaze away. Hades. She had to stop doing that.

“Worried I’m not up to it?” he teased.