Merry Medieval Christmas

by Elizabeth Rose et al.

  Dervenn quickly recovered his wits. He set Victorine back on her feet. “Help your mistress dress,” he instructed, gathering up his own still wet clothing. “I’ll see about an escort back to Westminster.”

  He strode off to find Adrian and his friends, feeling like a triumphant Caesar after crossing the Rubicon.

  LOVE AT LAST

  Baptiste, Constant and Georges seemed only too glad to leave Adrian’s estate. They quickly changed into dry clothing and had their horses saddled in short order.

  Still soaking wet, Adrian bid them farewell. He bent the knee before Victorine. “My lady, a thousand apologies for what happened. I would never have forgiven myself if…”

  She was tempted to reprimand him, but perhaps he’d learned his lesson. “You are a fine knight,” she said. “Some day when you are ready to wed you’ll find the right bride. Mayhap even one who likes fishing.”

  He smiled weakly as he rose. “I always sensed you really wanted Sir Dervenn.”

  She pecked a kiss on his cheek. Perhaps he was more insightful than she thought. He’d seen what she’d refused to admit. “Fare thee well, Sir Adrian.”

  As Dervenn lifted her into the saddle, a peaceful certainty settled in her heart that she had found her soul mate, a man whose dark, smoldering eyes ignited feelings of desire she’d never experienced before. Love had found her at last.

  “Stay close by me,” he said as they set off.

  “Always,” she replied.

  ~~~

  It was growing dark as they approached the environs of Westminster, but there could be no mistaking the banner flying from the flagpole in the stiff breeze.

  Dervenn’s spirits rose. “William is here.”

  “You’re right,” Baptiste replied. “Two golden lions passant. His Majesté must have returned from Normandie.”

  “If he ever went,” Georges added.

  Dervenn looked to Victorine who rode at his side. Even in the darkness her eyes mirrored his own excitement. As the king’s ward, she needed his permission to wed. She didn’t know of his wish for Dervenn to marry her. Still, the monarch’s presence in London would make things easier. “I will request an audience on the morrow.”

  She chewed her lower lip. “What if he refuses? What if he insists I marry someone else?”

  He decided to keep her in suspense a while longer. Just a small sweet revenge for refusing his kiss under the kissing bough.

  Ostlers came to take care of their horses when they dismounted. “Never fear, Sir Dervenn, Haritz is in good hands,” one of them assured him.

  Victorine laughed. “They know you.”

  He put an arm around her waist. “They should. I slept in their stables when I had to give up my bed for an orphan.”

  She pouted as they made their way into the keep. “Surely you won’t sleep in the stable this night?” she said seductively.

  “Probably. If William has returned with his army there’ll be no empty chambers to be found, and Haritz is good company. In any case Marie will want you all to herself. Now, let’s see if there is still food to be had in the Great Hall. I am famished.”

  She cast him a sideways glance, as if she understood his double meaning. He laughed and linked arms with her as they walked into the hall.

  He was taken aback by the number of people still at table, but understood the reason when William bellowed his name. “De Roure!”

  Every head swiveled to the entryway as the king left the dais and strode towards them. Dervenn bowed. Victorine sank into a deep curtsey and studied the planking.

  “I heard you’d gone off to Sir Adrian’s demesne,” the king said, clamping a hand on Dervenn’s shoulder. “Yet here you are.”

  He proffered a hand to Victorine. “How is my lovely ward? Is this rascal taking good care of you? You look happy enough.”

  She rose with his help, glanced at Dervenn and blurted out, “Yes, Majesté, he is, and I wish to marry him.”

  The king frowned, but Dervenn knew him well enough to recognise it was an act. Victorine’s face was beet red, but she seemed pleased with herself. He admired her willingness to incur the king’s wrath for him.

  William braced his legs and fisted his hands on his hips. “Is this true, de Roure? If so, we must adjourn to my solar.”

  The entire assembly rose quickly when the king marched out of the hall, his bodyguards scurrying to keep up with his abrupt departure.

  Dervenn took Victorine’s hand. “No choice but to follow.”

  ~~~

  The prospect of arguing with her king and guardian was daunting, but somehow Victorine had to convince him Dervenn was the right man for her. Now she’d found happiness she wasn’t going to let it slip through her fingers.

  The Conqueror turned abruptly once they entered the private solar. “Are you certain this landless knight is the man you want, child?”

  She resolved not to wilt under his stern gaze. “I am certain.”

  “Despite that he is a Breton?”

  She glanced at Dervenn. “It’s of no import where he is from.”

  “Your father wouldn’t approve.”

  “My father is dead, Sire.”

  The king folded his arms across his chest. “There are many knights at court who are more pleasing to the eye than my scarred friend.”

  “Sir Dervenn is pleasing to the heart, Majesté.” She deemed it prudent not to mention other parts of her body that found him pleasing.

  Her belly clenched when the king laughed out loud. “Congratulations are in order then, Earl and Countess of Avon. I wish you every happiness in your married life.”

  Dervenn gasped, evidently as surprised as she.

  King William tapped his bearded chin. “I suppose we’ll have to have a ceremony on the morrow. For the earldom, I mean. And a betrothal to boot!”

  Dervenn bent the knee. “You honor me greatly, Sire, and you have made me a happy man in granting me Victorine’s hand in marriage.”

  “No more than you deserve, my friend, now rise so I may embrace you.”

  As she watched her future husband and her monarch embrace, she understood the strength of the bond between them. King William wanted to be sure she was worthy of his Breton champion.

  He came to her and pecked a kiss on each cheek. “You’ve chosen well,” he whispered.

  COMPLETION

  Easter Sunday, 1067AD

  King William’s words echoed in Victorine’s memory on her wedding night. Lying abed in the richly furnished and carpeted chamber the Conqueror had provided, she savored the warm weight of her husband’s body. His hair glowed in the light of flickering candles.

  He’d collapsed on top of her after growling out his euphoria. His magnificent maleness had sparked a moment of panic when she’d first set eyes on it, but now her sheath pulsed on him in happy delight. The fleeting pinch of pain when he’d entered her was of no matter. Indeed she relished it as a rite of passage into womanhood.

  She had learned much about her own body this night, as well as his. He had taught her that a man’s clever tongue on her most intimate parts could carry a woman into an abyss of bliss.

  She traced her fingertips in the sheen of sweat on his broad back and knew for certain the king had been right. It was ironic that a knight she’d taken a disdainful dislike to upon first meeting was the one destined to banish the past and carry her to a brighter future. Of course, she’d been raised to shower contempt on people her father considered inferior.

  Things would be different when she and Dervenn took up their responsibilities at Avon. He’d already spent a fortnight there and returned optimistic about the castle and the Saxon inhabitants. She was determined to be a good countess and support him in his sworn resolve to treat his people with dignity and fairness.

  The time spent apart had only confirmed her need of him, the loneliness compounded by the constant monotony of fish on the Lenten menu in the hall.

  As she felt his manhood slowly withdraw from her body he raised up
on his forearms and kissed her breasts. “What are you thinking of?” he asked, his deep voice echoing in her womb.

  She gazed at his beloved face and wondered how she could ever have thought him ugly. “I am thinking it’s not every bridegroom who has a king as his second.”

  He rubbed his nose against hers. “Liar.”

  She smiled. “I am thinking we should ask the Conqueror if we can take Marie with us to Avon.”

  He suckled a nipple, causing the delicious pulsing to start anew. “It’s a good thought, and I love you for it. I was going to broach the subject. But you’re still not being truthful.”

  She arched her back feeling like a contented cat. “I was thinking I love you.”

  He grinned before turning his attentions to the other nipple. “Now we are getting somewhere.”

  She raked her fingers through his golden hair. “I was also wondering how often a man and his wife are permitted to enjoy joining their bodies.”

  He chuckled. “You enjoyed it, did you?”

  “Immensely. Couldn’t you tell?”

  He levered himself off her and turned onto his side. She missed his warmth but when he stroked a finger over the wetness between her legs, heat spiralled up her thighs.

  “Well, in answer to your question,” he purred, curling her hand around his manhood, “as long as simply looking at you arouses the need in me, there’s no limit to the number of times.”

  The touch of his finger, the hardening of his intimate flesh beneath her hand, the male scent of his body, the taste of mead in his loving kiss, all stoked the fire of her desire.

  “You know,” he rasped in between pecking nibbles along her neck, “I was resolved to wait the whole year for you after the kissing bough incident.”

  Aroused to the point of barely being able to speak, she managed to whisper hoarsely, “But how did you know I wouldn’t marry someone else?”

  “Trust me,” he replied, “I’d have put paid to any plans of that sort.”

  She silently thanked the Lord God Almighty for the patient determination of the worthy knight who was about to carry her once more into euphoric ecstasy.

  HISTORICAL FOOTNOTES

  FISHING

  Fly fishing was popular even in Roman times. The description of Adrian’s fly is taken from a treatise written about 250AD by Claudius Aelianus. "They wrap dark red wool round a hook and tie on to it two feathers which grow under the wattles of a cock and resemble wax in colour. The fishing rod is six feet in length and the line the same. When the tricky fly is lowered a fish is attracted by the colour and rises madly at the pretty thing that will give him a rare treat, but on opening his jaws is pierced by the hook, and is given poor enjoyment of the feast when he is captured."

  DE TOENI

  Many members of this noble Norman family fought at Hastings and are listed on the Battle Abbey Roll compiled by the Duchess of Cleveland in 1889. The name Berenger de Toeni appears on a plaque in the church in Dives-sur-mer in Normandy where William and his knights said mass before embarking for England. It lists all the knights who took part in the invasion.

  MILTON REGIS

  Is still renowned today for its oysters.

  MEDIEVAL NEW YEAR CELEBRATIONS

  In the early Middle Ages, the new year began on March 25th with the Feast of the Annunciation, and not on January 1st. For that reason I characterized the December 31st celebration in my story as a carry over of festivities for Yuletide and the Conqueror’s coronation on Christmas Day 1066AD. Dervenn glosses over what went awry at that ceremony but a full account can be found in my book Conquering Passion.

  DERVENN DE ROURE

  I took his last name from the Catalan language. It means oak. Mistletoe growing on oak trees was considered a rare and highly prized find in medieval Europe. (Like Dervenn himself)

  HARITZ

  Is the Basque word for oak.

  ABOUT ANNA MARKLAND

  Thank you for reading An Unkissable Knight. If you’d like to leave a review where you purchased the collection, I would appreciate it. Reviews contribute greatly to an author’s success.

  For a complete list of my books, you can visit my website and my Facebook page, Anna Markland Novels.

  Tweet me @annamarkland, and join me on Pinterest. If you want to try another sample of my work, you can download a FREE novella, Defiant Passion.

  In my bestselling, page-turning novels passion conquers whatever obstacles a hostile medieval world can throw in its path.

  Besides writing, I have two addictions-crosswords and genealogy, probably the reason I love research.

  I am a fool for cats.

  My husband is an entrepreneur who is fond of boasting he’s never had a job.

  I live on Canada’s scenic west coast now, but I was born and raised in the UK and I love breathing life into European history.

  Escape with me to where romance began.

  I hope you come to know and love my cast of characters as much as I do.

  I’d like to acknowledge the assistance of my critique partners, Reggi Allder, Jacquie Biggar, Sylvie Grayson and LizAnn Carson.

  MORE ANNA MARKLAND

  The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition (2018-2019)

  I Conquest—Ram & Mabelle, Rhodri & Rhonwen

  II Defiance—Hugh & Devona, Antoine & Sybilla

  III Redemption—Caedmon & Agneta

  IV Vengeance—Ronan & Rhoni

  V Birthright—Adam & Rosamunda, Denis & Paulina

  VI Star-Crossed— Robert & Dorianne, Baudoin & Carys

  VII Allegiance—Rhys & Annalise

  VIII Crescendo—Izzy & Farah

  IX Infidelity—Gallien & Peridotte

  X Jeopardy—Alexandre & Elayne

  XI Forbidden— Bronson & Grace; Rodrick & Swan

  The FitzRam Family Trilogy

  Carried Away—Blythe & Dieter

  Sweet Taste of Love—Aidan & Nolana

  Wild Viking Princess—Ragna & Reider

  Series featuring the stories of the Viking ancestors of my Norman families

  The Rover Bold—Bryk & Cathryn

  The Rover Defiant—Torstein & Sonja

  The Rover Betrayed—Magnus & Judith

  Novellas

  Maknab’s Revenge—Ingram & Ruby

  Passion’s Fire—Matthew & Brigandine

  Banished—Sigmar & Audra

  Hungry Like De Wolfe—Blaise & Anne

  The Marauder—Santiago & Valentina

  Knightly Dreams—Peter & Susie

  Caledonia Chronicles (Scotland)

  Book I Pride of the Clan—Rheade & Margaret

  Book II Highland Tides—Braden & Charlotte

  Book III Highland Dawn—Keith & Aurora

  Book IV Roses Among the Heather—Blair & Susanna, Craig & Timothea

  The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty (medieval Europe)

  Book 1 Loyal Heart—Sophia & Brandt

  Book 2 Courageous Heart—Luther & Francesca

  Book 3 Faithful Heart—Kon & Zara

  Myth & Mystery

  The Taking of Ireland —Sibràn & Aislinn

  Clash of the Tartans

  Kilty Secrets—Ewan & Shona

  Kilted at the Altar—Darroch & Isabel

  Kilty Pleasures—Broderick & Kyla

  The House of Pendray

  Highland Betrayal—Morgan & Hannah (audiobook available)

  Kingslayer’s Daughter—Munro & Sarah

  Highland Jewel—Garnet & Jewel

  Highland Rising—Gray & Faith

  Mhàiri’s Yuletide Wish

  a novella

  By Cathy MacRae

  Copyright

  PUBLISHED BY

  Short Dog Press

  www.cathymacraeauthor.com

  Mhàiri’s Yuletide Wish © 2018 Short Dog Press

  All rights reserved

  Amazon KDP Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other pe
ople. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. The ebook contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored in or introduced into an information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To DD…

  For your invaluable help.

  Mhàiri’s Yuletide Wish

  Bound to a man more than twice her age in exchange for the price of her uncle’s ransom, Mhàiri Burns is desperate to avoid the match. Rather than simply await her fate, she sets out in a snow storm to seek a mysterious brooch rumored to be the answer to her prayers. Though it is the season for peace and goodwill, her uncle will perish at the hands of the English if Mhàiri cannot rescue him by the end of Yuletide.

  Michaell Kerr has loved Mhàiri since they were children. Discovering Mhàiri’s grandfather has pledged her to another man sets Michaell in a race against time to find a way to break the betrothal—and help Mhàiri save her uncle.

  What Mhàiri and Michaell receive this Yuletide season could prove more than they had ever dreamed.

  Author’s note: Mhàiri is pronounced Var-ee

  CHAPTER ONE

  Siller Stane Keep, the Scottish Borders