To Tame A Highland Warrior
Page 102

“Aye,” he growled. “I became well acquainted with that moral at an early age.” Again he flashed a look of fury at Ronin.
“Then you should be understandin’ sometimes it works in reverse—there’s such a thing as a sheep in wolf’s clothing too. Sometimes appearances can be misleadin’. Sometimes you have to reexamine the facts with mature eyes.”
Jillian eyed them curiously. There was a message being conveyed that she didn’t understand.
“Jillian loves fables,” Grimm muttered, urging the subject in a new direction.
“Well, tell us one, lass,” Ronin encouraged.
Jillian blushed. “No, really, I couldn’t. It’s the children who love fables so much.”
“Bah, children, she says, Balder!” Ronin exclaimed. “My Jolyn loved fables and told us them often. Come on, lass, give us a story.”
“Well …” she demurred.
“Tell us one. Go on,” the brothers urged.
Beside her Grimm took a deep swallow from his mug and slammed it down on the table.
Jillian flinched inwardly but refused to react. He’d been stomping and glowering ever since they’d arrived, and she couldn’t fathom why. Seeking a way to lessen the palpable tension, she rummaged through her stock of fables and, struck by an impish impulse, selected a tale.
“Once there was a mighty lion, heroic and invincible. He was king of the beasts, and he knew it well. A bit arrogant, one might say, but a good king just the same.” She paused to smile warmly at Grimm.
He scowled.
“This mighty lion was walking in the forest of the lowlands one evening when he spied a lovely woman—”
“With waves of golden hair and amber eyes,” Balder interjected.
“Why, yes! How did you know? You’ve heard this one, haven’t you, Balder?”
Grimm rolled his eyes.
Jillian stifled an urge to laugh and continued. “The mighty lion was mesmerized by her beauty, by her gentle ways, and by the lovely song she was singing. He padded forward quietly so he wouldn’t startle her. But the maiden wasn’t frightened—she saw the lion for what he was: a powerful, courageous, and honorable creature with an often-fearsome roar who possessed a pure, fearless heart. His arrogance she could overlook, because she knew from watching her own father that arrogance was often part and parcel of extraordinary strength.” Jillian sneaked a quick glance at Ronin; he was grinning broadly.
Drawing succor from Ronin’s amusement, she looked directly at Grimm and continued. “The lion was besotted. The next day he sought out the woman’s father and pledged his heart, seeking her hand in marriage. The woman’s father was concerned about the lion’s beastly nature, despite the fact that his daughter was perfectly comfortable with it. Unknown to the daughter, her father agreed to accept the lion’s courtship, provided the lion king allowed him to pluck his claws and pull his teeth, rendering him tame and civilized. The lion was hopelessly in love. He agreed, and so it was done.”
“Another Samson and Delilah,” Grimm muttered.
Jillian ignored him. “When the lion then pressed his case, the father drove him from his home with sticks and stones, because the beast was no longer a threat, no longer a fearsome creature.”
Jillian paused significantly, and Balder and Ronin clapped their hands. “Wonderfully told!” Ronin exclaimed. “That was a favorite of my wife’s as well.”
Grimm scowled. “That’s the end? Just what the hell was the point of that story?” he asked, offended. “That loving makes a man weaker? That he loses the woman he loves when she sees him unmanned?”
Ronin gave him a disparaging glance. “No, lad. The point of that fable is that even the mighty can be humbled by love.”
“Wait—there’s more. The daughter,” Jillian said quietly, “moved by his willingness to trust so completely, fled her da’s house and wed her lion king.” She understood Grimm’s fear now. Whatever secret he was hiding, he was afraid that once she discovered it, she would leave him.
“I still think it’s a terrible story!” Grimm thundered, waving his hand angrily. It caught his mug and sent it flying across the table, spraying Ronin with cider wine. Grimm stared at the bright red stain spreading on his da’s white linen for a long, strained moment. “Excuse me,” he said roughly, pushing his chair back and without another glance loping from the room.
“Ah, lass, he can be a handful sometimes, I fear,” Ronin said with an apologetic look, mopping at his shirt with a cloth.