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stepping into the realm of a faery queen.”
    “So it is.” Grim’s voice held a husky note that made her senses spin. Equally disquieting, the same moonlight that silvered the room also shone on his mail shirt and glinted off his beard rings, letting him look not just big, bold, and roguish, but almost mythical.
    So easily, he could pass for a legendary hero come to life, straight from a bard’s fable.
    Breena knew her eyes were widening in wonder, so she glanced aside, biting her lower lip.
    To her surprise, Grim leaned down and pressed a kiss to her brow. “This room should be well tended and enjoyed, by all. That is certain.
    “And you have no’ yet seen its finest feature.” He caught her wrist, led her into the nearest embrasure. “It is said one can see all of Scotland from up here. Though”—he slid his arm about her waist, drawing her near as they approached the tall window arch—“I’ll own that’s stretching the truth a bit. Even so, the views are splendid.”
    “I have no words.” Breena set her hands on the cold stone of the ledge, stunned by the snowy expanse before her. The soaring peaks that surrounded Duncreag, cutting off the stronghold from the rest of the world, glistened with the sheen of ice crystals. In the distance, other hills, moorland, and glens stretched blue-white in every direction, each ripple of the land sparkling, the whole of the Highlands kissed by a light haze of frosty mist.
    But it was the glitter of stars that took her breath.
    “The stars.” She glanced up at Grim. “They’re everywhere, more than I have ever seen.”
    He nodded, looking pleased. “Indeed. And the crescent moon is allowing them their glory.”
    Breena turned back to the window. “It’s almost too beautiful.”
    “Lady Rosalie called this chamber her ‘room of stars.’ ” Grim’s voice was low, almost reverent. “ ’Tis easy to see why she chose the name.”
    “She must’ve loved the room very much.”
    “I have heard that she did.” Grim’s arm tightened about her waist, drawing her closer. “I can see you enjoying such a place. Watching the sun rise from one window and then later embroidering at another as the midday sun warmed you.” He paused, the magic he was spinning making her heart flutter. “Perhaps you’d admire the sunset from the west-facing alcove, a lover at your side. Then you could return here at midnight to drink mead and count the stars.
    “Lady Breena, I can see you here so clearly.” His words flowed through her, sweeter than the honeyed mead he’d mentioned. He had the most beautiful voice, deep, smooth, and so richly burred.
    Unfortunately, he’d said “lady” again. And worse, he was using his big, strong hand to trace delicate circles on her hip, a maddening distraction that sent the most delicious shivers all through her. His touch felt more searingly intimate than if she stood before him naked, a thought that excited her when such a wanton notion should shame her.
    Her pulse leapt and exquisite, languorous heat swept across certain unmentionable parts of her, rousing and melting her.
    Perhaps she was wicked?
    In truth, she didn’t care. Not when it was Grim who made her feel that way.
    But she did have other concerns.
    “Grim.” She stepped away from him, speaking as resolutely as she could. “You mustn’t call me ‘Lady Breena.’ I am not a gentle-born lady and will not assume to make any such claim to the status.”
    She held up a hand, stopping him when he started to object. “It makes me uncomfortable when you address me so. Simply Breena is fine, truly.”
    “Aye, well, Breena.” He frowned on her name. “I am no’ a man to deny a lady her wishes. And you are a lady, whate’er you say.”
    “My father was a woodcarver.” Breena’s chin came up, her sire’s hard-featured, ever-closed face rising in her mind. “He fed us by making plates, bowls, cups, and the like. He supplied rougher ware for villagers and townfolk, and finer