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Breena glanced aside, blinking furiously against the stinging heat at the backs of her eyes. She didn’t cry, never.
    Yet now…
    She swallowed hard, her heart nearly jumping from her chest when Grim released her hands to cup her face and look deeply into her eyes.
    “Do you miss Ireland?” His question surprised her.
    “Of course, I do.” Breena didn’t lie. She felt at home here now. But she’d always miss Inishowen and Donegal. That would never change.
    “And your family?” Grim had angled his head, his beard rings clacking softly in the room’s stillness. “I know you lost them in the raid. Do you still grieve for them sorely? Is there anyone else you mourn?”
    “I…” Breena glanced aside, guilt and shame sweeping her. She felt her face coloring and couldn’t stop the rush of heated embarrassment to her cheeks.
    “Forgive me, lass.” Grim released her, stepping back. He looked more unhappy than she felt. “I didnae mean to distress you. That was the last thing I—”
    “You didn’t upset me.” Breena closed the distance between them, lifted a hand to touch his mailed chest. She hoped he couldn’t tell she was trembling. That his words stirred memories, making them twist so tightly inside her that she could scarce breathe. “It’s not what you said, but me.
    “You see”—she rushed the words, feeling a need to speak true—“I do not miss my parents. I grieve for them, of course. But my heart does not long for them. And that fills me with a terrible guilt.”
    Grim’s brow creased, but rather than condemn her, he placed his hand over hers, his strength and warmth so comforting tears again stung her eyes.
    “I vow you will have your reasons.” He nodded as if she hadn’t just revealed herself cold and unfeeling. “If ever you wish to speak of them, I have good ears, I’m told, and broad shoulders.”
    His kindness was too much.
    A terrible thickness rose in Breena’s throat, hot and burning, making it hard to speak. But she must, wanting him to know the truth.
    “There isn’t much to say for I scarce knew them.” She raised her chin, meeting his surprised gaze. Her heart started to thump painfully, her parents’ faces flickering across her mind only to be swiftly replaced by two other faces, ones she’d miss all her days. “I had eight brothers, and my father never let me forget that he’d rather have had a ninth son than a daughter to clothe and feed. My mother was a silent, long-suffering woman who only did her chores and found other work for me to tend.” She glanced aside, blinking. “Neither were caring or affectionate and my brothers were aye too busy to notice me.
    “The only family I truly ache for were my aunt and uncle.” Now Breena did have to dash aside a tear as memories of the beloved pair squeezed her heart. She still saw their dear faces before her, their eyes so filled with love that it hurt to remember. “Uncle Dermot was the village blacksmith, and his wife, my Aunt Mell, was more a mother to me than my own. They weren’t blessed with children and so they—”
    “Showered their love on you.” Grim finished for her, pulling her against him as he closed his arms around her, holding her tight. “I can see how you’d mourn their loss, lassie, and I’m sorry for it.”
    “You are kind.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as choked as it did to her.
    He harrumphed, the sound coming from deep in his great chest, and oddly soothing. “You’ll no’ think so when I ask if there’s no’ anyone else you may be longing for? Someone back in your Ireland?”
    She blinked, confused.
    Then heat began inching up her neck, onto her cheeks. Surely he didn’t know she’d told some of the garrison lads she was spoken for? The look in Grim’s eye warned that he’d heard. And she should’ve realized such an untruth would circle back to haunt her.
    But she’d only wanted to be left in peace.
    And truly, she
had
given someone her heart.
    He stood before her