Page 66 of Steel & Surrender

His mother was a statuesque woman, yet she’d looked almost frail in the months following Alistair’s death—her face gaunt, her eyes hollowed. Today though, as she worked in a place that had always given her solace, she almost seemed herself again. Maybe the shadow was passing.

Maybe Brìghde was right. The living had to let go of the dead eventually, but that didn’t mean they loved them any less for it.

Greig cleared his throat then. “Afternoon, Ma.”

Her chin lifted, her humming cutting off. “What brings ye up here, mo chridhe?” she said with a smile, shading her face against the sun with her hand.

She wore a kerch around her head to keep her hair off her face and to protect herself from the sun, but dark curls threaded with grey peeked out.

“Sorry to disturb ye, Ma,” he replied gruffly. “I’ll leave ye be.”

He turned to go, but his mother called out, “Stop, Greig. There’s no need for that. I was about to take a break. Come … I brought up a bottle of ale with me. There’s only one cup, but we can share it.”

He turned to see that she’d motioned to the terrace at the end of the garden—where he and Alistair had drunk together after Maggie’s wedding, when Greig had learned about that list.

The list that had changed his life.

For better and for worse.

“All right then,” he said, wishing he could beg off but not wanting to offend his mother.

He limped his way down the path, stepped onto the terrace, and lowered himself onto a seat.

“I’m not surprised yer leg’s paining ye,” Mairi said as she settled herself down opposite, arranging her skirts. “That was quite a climb ye managed yesterday. We’re all impressed.”

He gave a soft snort, taking the cup she now offered him. He swallowed a gulp and then passed it back to her. “Ye know how pigheaded I am,” he said with a rueful smile. “I wasn’t about to let a mountain beat me.”

His mother’s lips quirked. “Yer stubbornness does ye credit, Greig.” She hesitated then. “Sometimes.”

Greig tensed. Now that his mother had him alone, she perhaps had some things she wished to share with him.

His pulse quickened.

Cods. He should have gone straight to his bedchamber.

He didn’t want a sermon from his mother today—not in his current mood.

She meant well, of course she did, and he respected her. But like most mothers, she sometimes forgot that her son was all grown up now and didn’t need her to bandage his hurts and kiss them better.

Sometimes a man was faced with a mess of his own making, and only he could put it right.

And he’d have to find a way to fix things with Brìghde.

The lass needed another apology, not for him taking liberties on the summit of Ben More, but for making her think that she was undesirable.

He had seen it in her eyes. She thought he was rejecting her as a woman.

And since the whole of Duart knew her as the Forge Maiden, where some men sniggered behind her back, and the likes of Ian Maclean tried to force her into a role she didn’t want, it was hardly surprising that she’d reacted as she did.

No, he’d have to find a way to make her understand that wasn’t the case.

All of this was on him, not her.

“Why are ye pushing yerself so?” Mairi asked then, eyeing him over the rim of the cup.

Greig hesitated. His parents still didn’t know about the list. Even Davy had kept his mouth shut. Neither brother wanted to hurt their mother or dredge up her sorrow once more. And yet, at the same time, she deserved to know.

Perhaps it might even make things better in some way.