Page 90 of Steel & Surrender

It struck him then, as he resumed walking, that he had no proof that this hadn’t been a game to him. Only his word.

And that, clearly, wasn’t good enough.

He’d expected that his parents would have retired by now, joined the trickle of people who now made their way back up the slope to the castle, yet Loch and Mairi lingered. Others were singing to a familiar tune, and his mother joined them. Mairi had a lovely voice, and many locals had turned to gaze at her as she sang:

“Isle of Mull, island of joy:

wave-washed,

sun-topped,

wind-warmed,

peak-blasted,

with glens tight with hazel and oak,

straths grass-tawny, stepping waterfalls,

and mighty Ben More of the eagles

set high over all.”

Greig’s step faltered, and he drew to a halt.

Ben More. The mountain where his life had irrevocably changed, where he’d finally allowed his desire for Brìghde to surface, where they’d talked honestly. The lass was his safe place. The rest of the world could think him a cynical bastard, but she knew the truth.

Or she had before he’d ruined everything.

Glancing down, he rotated the ring on his finger.

Firelight played across the intricately wrought stag’s head. She’d noted he was wearing it earlier, but his gesture hadn’t been for show. In truth, he hadn’t expected to see her at the dance, for she never usually attended such gatherings.

Her gift had touched him, and he would cling to it.

His chest clenched.

Christ’s bones. He’d just set fire to everything.

Raising his chin, he struggled to pull himself together. He couldn’t let any of his kin see him like this. One glance at his face, and they’d know.

The world came rushing back all at once. Music, laughter, the crackle of the fire.

Fortunately, neither of his parents had seen him.

His father now gazed at Mairi as she sang, his dark eyes shining with love.

A sickly sensation washed over Greig. He’d always taken his parents’ rock-solid relationship for granted, yet he saw it with different eyes now.

They had what he wanted. With Brìghde.

Greig shifted his attention then across the crowd, his gaze alighting on Davy.

His brother hadn’t seen him yet either. He was too focused on talking with the small raven-haired lass he stood with: Kenna Black.

Greig recognized her instantly. It was hard to believe she was no longer a bairn. It seemed just yesterday that he had seen her clutching a poppet in one hand, and clinging to her mother’s skirts with the other.

However, it took only a moment for him to realize that Davy and Kenna were not having a friendly discussion. They were arguing.