Page 32 of Steel & Surrender

Surprisingly, he still felt remarkably sober.

Davy, though, had a glazed look in his dark eyes.

Two of the Mackinnons were arguing now, one accusing his friend of cheating. Taking the opportunity to focus on his brother, Greig leaned close. “Glad ye came?”

“Aye.” Davy lifted the fresh tankard of frothy ale the comely serving lass had just delivered to their table. Greig had marked the way his brother’s gaze tracked the young woman as she went from table to table. He’d also noted the smiles and lingering glances she’d been giving Davy all evening. Once they’d finished drinking, Greig would stumble to his bed—in the room he’d rented in this establishment—but Davy would be sleeping elsewhere.

Good for him.

He meant it too.

He didn’t want to let a woman see his maimed leg—and wouldn’t be taking anyone to his bed in the foreseeable future—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t wish his brother well.

“No better place for drinking than Tobermory,” Davy slurred.

Reaching out, Greig gripped his brother’s shoulder. The drinking had lowered his guard. Suddenly, he felt emotional. “We’ve not done this enough, have we?”

Davy inclined his head, surprised. “No … ye always preferred to go drinking with Craeg and Ailean. Yer wee brothers just embarrassed ye.”

Greig winced at that. Davy’s words hit like a well-aimed quarrel. But they were true. “I was a clodhead,” he said, raising his tankard and taking a large swallow.

“Aye … ye were,” his brother agreed. “But we loved ye, nonetheless.”

Greig’s chest constricted. It was just the ale talking, yet Davy’s words touched him, all the same. “Ye asked me earlier why I’m pushing myself … why I’m set on swimming to Oban,” he began. “The truth is, it’s because of Al.”

Davy stilled. “Aye?”

Greig’s pulse quickened. He hadn’t meant to tell Davy about this. But after spending the day together, he felt closer to him than he had in years. His brother needed to know. “Did ye know he left a list?”

Davy shook his head, gaze narrowing.

“Well, he did … a few challenges he set himself. One was to swim to Oban.” Greig paused then. “Another is to drink the night away in Tobermory.”

Davy’s night-brown eyes guttered. “He never said.”

The words sat heavily between them.

“Aye, well … it was on Maggie’s wedding day. He showed me the list … made me promise that if something ever happened to him, I was to complete it in his stead.”

Their gazes locked for a long moment, and then Davy’s eyes filled with tears. Jaw flexing, he looked away, struggling to master himself. “Did he sense his end was coming?” he asked roughly.

Greig tensed. He hadn’t considered that. “I don’t think so … he’d drunk a lot of wine … it loosened his tongue, that’s all.”

“But to write such a list—”

“He was a dreamer … we always teased him about that. Remember?”

Turning back to Greig, Davy nodded, although his gaze was still shadowed. Full of pain.

An ache rose under Greig’s breastbone. Speaking about Alistair hurt him too—yet it also felt right. Their brother deserved to be remembered, in stories and fond memories, not just vows of revenge.

Davy took a draft from his tankard. Around them, the game of knucklebones resumed, although they sat this one out. “What else was on his list?” he asked eventually.

“To ride from Duart to The Western Cliffs … I did that last week. Climb Ben More, win a strength contest at the Harvest Games … and swim the Sound, of course … those three will have to wait until next year though.” He hesitated then, on the brink of admitting that winning the Forge Maiden’s heart was also on the list. However, he swallowed the words.

Davy’s lips quirked. “And ye’ll do it all … stubborn goat that ye are.”

Greig nodded, determination hardening inside him. “I will.” He held his tankard out then, meeting Davy’s eye once more. “Here’s to Al.”