Page 81 of Steel & Surrender

“Is everything all right, Brìghde?” Greig asked.

“I’m not used to crowds,” she muttered, “or to being stared at like this.”

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching her face. “Come.” He stepped close and linked his arm through hers. “It grows late. I’ll walk ye home.”

Relief slammed into her. Thank the Saints. She was desperate to be away. Her mother had meant well by insisting she come along, and part of her was glad she had, for she’d enjoyed feeling like a woman for once.

And her dance with Greig would remain etched in her memory forever.

But the truth of it was that there’d be consequences for tonight, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for them.

“I fear we have got folk excited,” she said as they reached the edge of the braziers.

“Maybe.” Greig stooped down and retrieved one of the many lanterns that had been lit and placed there to allow folk to find their way home after the drinking and dancing were done. “But that’s easy enough to do in a place this small.”

“I’m not sure it was wise to dance together,” she replied, aware of the warmth and strength of his arm against hers as they walked.

The glow of the lantern shrouded them. The night was cool and still, and a waxing moon hung heavily in the sky above.

Greig harrumphed. “I was reckless, drawing attention to us like that,” he admitted. “But I was seized with jealousy when I saw ye dancing with Ranald. I wanted to make it clear that other men were to keep their distance.”

Brìghde shot him a glance. “What?”

His lips curved. “Does that surprise ye?”

She nodded. “I don’t understand ye, Greig.” She cut her gaze away and focused on the well-worn path before them that wound through the bothies. Shortly, they would arrive at the forge, and just as well too, for this conversation was quickly careening out of control.

“I have no right … I know it,” he replied, his voice lowering now, “especially after how I’ve behaved. But the truth of it is, Brìghde, that ye have gotten under my skin.”

She gave a soft snort, even as her belly flipped. “Ye make me sound like some pesky splinter.”

His hold on her arm tightened slightly. “Then I expressed myself badly.” He hesitated. “I shall tell it plain … ye are important to me, Brì.”

Silence fell after this admission.

Brìghde didn’t know what to say. He’d knocked her off balance, and she certainly didn’t want to make light of what his words meant.

The forge loomed ahead—a low-slung, dark bulk sitting in front of her parents’ bothy.

They drew to a halt, and then Greig turned to face her. The lantern light illuminated the proud lines of his face, the darkness of his eyes, the strength of his jaw, and the sensual shape of his lips.

Tension coiled in Brìghde’s belly, for he was staring at her with a fierceness that made her breathing hitch.

“Greig,” she whispered, “please don’t look at me like that.”

“I can’t help it.” He reached out a hand then, sliding his fingers into her hair. “I like yer hair unbound like this. In the firelight, it looks almost silver.”

“It gets in the way at work,” she said ruefully. “That’s why I always keep it braided.”

“Ye are practical.” His lips quirked, although his gaze remained intense. “But there’s so much more to ye, isn’t there?”

His hand brushed her jaw then before sliding down the column of her neck and across her chest, above the swell of her breasts. She shivered under his touch.

“I was a fool, recoiling from ye the way I did upon Ben More,” he said, his voice growing husky now. “What I should have done was more of this.”

With that, he bent his head and kissed her.

And just like when they’d been on the mountaintop, it was gentle and sensual.