Page 44

GREER AWOKE EARLY, rousing Inghinn from her sheepskin by the fire, and enlisting her help to dress.

Later, she, Bonnie, Davina, and Rose would head out on their ride—but before they did, Greer wished to visit the stables. She’d neglected her palfrey since her arrival here and wanted to spend some time with Samhradh before they set off.

At home, Greer spent much time with Samhradh, bringing her treats such as slivers of carrot and apple from the kitchen. She liked to groom the mare herself and would often chatter away to her as she worked.

But this morning, she felt in need of the palfrey’s calming presence.

After dancing with Brodie, her mind felt jumbled, her emotions in a whirl. She had to gain her equilibrium again.

She was wary of letting her excitement spill over into recklessness as she didn’t want to shame her father in any way.

Wrapping a woolen shawl about her shoulders, for the morning was fresh, Greer made her way down the spiral stairwell to the lower level of the keep, descending to the hall, where men—most of her escort included—slumbered.

Careful not to disturb them, she pushed the heavy oaken door open and slipped outside.

Pausing briefly on the steps, she glanced up at the windy grey sky. This wasn’t the weather she’d hoped for, although, with any luck, it would brighten up by the time they set out on their ride.

The barmkin was empty at this hour, yet when she raised her gaze further, she caught sight of leather-clad warriors standing at their posts on the wall, their tall forms outlined against the lightening sky.

It was breathlessly quiet this morning; not even the blacksmith had started work yet. Brodie’s forge lay silent in the far corner of the barmkin.

Casting a glance at it and quelling the same excitement that had fluttered through her when they’d locked gazes the evening before, Greer hurried across to the stables.

The sweet smell of hay mixed with the pungent scent of horse greeted her inside the shadowy building, and dust tickled her nose.

The stables here at Dun Ugadale were much smaller than those at Druminnor.

Space was limited here, so the stables consisted of a long, thin L-shaped building that wrapped around two sides of the barmkin.

Samhradh was stabled near the entrance, in a comfortable large stall.

The mare had just pulled a mouthful of hay from her manger when Greer slipped inside.

“Not suffering, are ye?” she greeted the horse softly.

Samhradh snorted before moving forward and nudging her side with her nose.

Greer smiled, stroking her neck. “No treats for ye this morning, sorry.” The finely boned grey mare had been a gift from her father five years earlier.

Greer had been so overcome with joy at his generosity that she’d burst into tears, something which had embarrassed, and annoyed, her father at the time.

She and Samhradh had been inseparable since.

“Sorry I haven’t visited ye since we arrived, lass,” Greer murmured, picking up a hog-bristle brush and beginning to groom her horse. “I’ve been a bit distracted.”

Greer’s brow furrowed then. Indeed, she had. Samhradh gave another snort as if agreeing the excuse was a poor one.

“I’ve good news though,” Greer continued. “We are heading out on a long ride this morning … what do ye think about that?”

The palfrey seemed unimpressed by this announcement. Instead, she snatched another mouthful of hay as Greer continued to groom her in long, sweeping strokes.

Ceasing her prattle, as her thoughts turned inward, Greer continued to brush her mount.

Her mood was still off, for she’d awoken with an odd restlessness that put her on edge.

It was unusual, for she’d been blessed with a light-hearted spirit and even temper.

Hopefully, a day out and plenty of fresh air would put her right.

She was deep in thought when, a short while later, a man’s low baritone reached her.

Greer stilled.

The singing was quiet, yet it seemed she wasn’t the only one in the stables at this hour.

Curiosity piqued, she put aside her brush and ducked out of the stall, following the singing. Her footfalls were noiseless on the straw-littered floor of the aisle between the stalls, and so her approach went unnoticed.

The man’s singing was still soft, yet tuneful, and as she drew nearer, Greer recognized the song. It was Wild Mountain Thyme, one of her favorites.

“I will range through the wilds

And the deep land so dreary

And return with the spoils

To the bower o’ my dearie.

Will ye go lassie go?”

The man paused a moment then before singing the refrain.

“And we'll all go together,

To pull wild mountain thyme,

All around the purple heather.

Will ye go, lassie, go?”

Greer drew to a halt then, her gaze traveling to the stall at the far end of the stables. The shadows were deep in this part of the building, with only a single cresset burning on a nearby wall.

Even so, she easily spied the man standing with a horse. It was a big leggy beast, although the horse hung its head placidly over his shoulder. He stroked its large noble head as he sang.

Greer’s lips curved. Well, this was a sight she had never thought to see: Dun Ugadale’s arrogant, ill-tempered blacksmith serenading his horse.

It was a tender scene, especially when the horse lifted its head, ruffling the hair on the top of Brodie’s head with its large whiskery lips.

Brodie’s mouth quirked into a smile as he continued to sing, moving on to the final verse. Meanwhile, the horse lowered its head and puffed gently in his ear before resting its chin upon his shoulder.

Greer’s own smile widened. The horse clearly enjoyed the singing and seemed to have gone into a stupor. Her breathing quickened then—she couldn’t help it.

Every time she set eyes on Brodie Mackay, she felt like a giddy lass noticing a bonnie lad for the first time at Beltaine.

The blacksmith moved on to the final repetition of the refrain. The song was close to ending, and Greer didn’t want to intrude. Fortunately, she was standing silently in the shadows. If she slipped away now, the blacksmith wouldn’t be any the wiser.

Turning, she went to leave and stumbled over a broom one of the stable lads had left leaning against a roof support.

The broom thudded to the floor, and Brodie’s singing abruptly cut off.

“Who goes there?” he snapped.

Biting her bottom lip, Greer turned once more. Then, straightening her spine, she moved forward out of the shadows and into the pale-gold light cast by the flickering cresset.

“It’s me … Greer,” she murmured.

Brodie scowled as his gaze found her, all the softness she’d witnessed on his face vanishing.

Greer’s heart started thudding guiltily. Curse it, she really hadn’t wanted to disturb him. Now, he’d think she was spying on him. Well, she had been, but not deliberately.

“Ye are awake early.” There was an accusing edge to his voice now, as if he really did think she was sneaking around trying to catch him out.

Warmth flushed across Greer’s cheeks. “Aye, ye know I’m not one to lie abed. At Druminnor, I often visit the stables when there’s no one about … and to groom my palfrey.”

Brodie’s mouth thinned as if he thought her excuse weak. Turning from Greer, he stroked his horse’s neck. The beast nuzzled him, and he withdrew a small apple from a pouch at his waist and fed it.

His dismissal was clear. Greer really should leave him, and yet she lingered.

Clearing her throat, she took a step forward. “That’s a lovely horse … what’s his name?”

“ Her name is Brèagha,” he replied.

Greer smiled. Pretty . It was certainly not what she’d expected him to call such an upstanding beast. However, she liked the way he said the name, Bree-ah , drawing it out with obvious affection.

“How long have ye owned her?”

“Nearly a decade now … Iver bought her for me as a filly at the Ceann Locha horse market.”

“And ye have been inseparable ever since?”

Brodie shot her a narrow-eyed look. “Do us both a favor and forget ye ever saw me singing to my horse,” he muttered.

Greer wouldn’t; instead, she’d store the memory away to keep alongside all the others of this stay.

“Ye have a fine voice, Brodie,” she replied, inclining her head. “Perhaps I should request ye sing for us all in the evenings.”

“I think not,” he said curtly.

“Why … are ye shy?”

Brodie muttered a curse under his breath. He then slapped Brèagha on the neck and ducked out of the stall. A moment later, he was looming over Greer.

His nearness made Greer’s heart leap into her throat, reminding her of how close he’d stood to her the evening before. However, his gaze wasn’t melting now, just irritated.

“I don’t sing,” he replied, his voice flinty. “Not for anyone except my horse.”

Greer held her ground, even if his glare was withering.

“Not even for me?” she said lightly, attempting to warm him up a little.

After all, he’d asked her to dance the eve before and favored her with a look that had nearly made her burst into flames on the spot.

She didn’t expect him to smolder like that again, yet he was decidedly frosty this morning.

“Especially not for ye ,” he growled. “Spoiled as ye are.”

Greer sucked in a sharp breath. Hades, what had she done to offend him? However, she never got the chance to question Brodie, for he brushed past her and stalked away.