O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Bree had been left behind to care for their children and home. The main reason they’d only had two children was because of his constant absences. Just then, the back door opened and a young Naill walked out. Just before mounting, he looked up to the sky and then to his small home.

  Of course, he remembered now. Each time before leaving, he prayed for his wife and their home.

  He’d not done that in a long time. Years actually.

  “Enough!” He turned expecting to find the faceless apparition, but it was nowhere to be seen.

  Naill began walking toward the keep. Eventually, this dream or whatever it was had to end. He would find his wife and convince her to give him another chance to make things better for them. Tears fell from his eyes until he had to stop, lower to the ground and weep bitterly.

  Bree and his children had suffered because of his ego. He’d not fulfilled his promises, the same promises that had convinced Bree to choose him over Duncan.

  He’d forced her to go to the keep and it was obvious one of the reasons she’d not wanted to go was because she only had old, worn clothing and shoes. He was so blind. He’d worried more about the next conquest out on the field of battle than how his family fared.

  It broke his heart that his ten-year-old boy had been forced to take responsibility, to work to help feed the family, while in the laird’s study, his coffer was overfilled with coin.

  Suddenly the sky darkened, and stars twinkled overhead. A lantern materialized next to him and Naill picked it up.

  He jerked it away at seeing that his hand was gnarled like that of an old man’s. When he felt his face, he found a long, silver beard and matching tangled hair.

  It had been him. The apparition was a much older version of himself.

  Suddenly, memories of the future filled him.

  In his vision, Bree and the children had returned to the village the next day. Although at first, he’d brought them coin and some sundries from time to time. But eventually over time, he’d stopped. Cairon had grown to be a strong young man who’d refused any help from him.

  In the end, he died alone in the rooms beside the stables, after having spent his last years at the tavern. Every night, he’d tell anyone who’d listen stories of the battles and conquests during his life.

  The ground suddenly disappeared from under him and he flew over the village and onward toward the keep. When he lowered to the stables, it became night. He walked in, still an old man, and looked to the man on the cot. Naill was fast asleep and looked to be his normal five and thirty years old.

  When the older version of him approached the bed, he turned to mist and then everything went dark.

  With a loud gasp, Naill sat up. It was dark in the room. But from under the door, a bit of light showed that the sun had risen.

  Naill searched the room in an attempt to figure out if he’d actually left or if it had been a strange dream.

  “It was a dream,” he whispered. It had to have been a dream. He’d drunk too much and paid for it with a nightmare.

  Amazingly, his headache was gone, so he got up and went to the door, hoping to arrive at first meal early and then seek out his family.

  Just as he was about to walk out, he stopped in his tracks.

  Beside the door on the floor was the lantern.

  Chapter Four

  Bree woke and hurriedly got the children up. With luck, they’d leave before being seen and asked to remain longer. As she hurried the sleepy duo past the kitchens, Moira came to her with a basket. “I knew ye would wish to leave early. Take this.” The kind woman pushed the basket into her hands.

  Moments later, she managed to get the horse hitched to their wagon and, before long, they were on the way to their home. There was much to do. She had chickens to feed and with the coins Naill had given her, she’d go to the merchant’s stall and purchase fabric to make Cairon a pair of tunics and breeches. Millie wasn’t so much in need since she’d recently made her a few things from one of her old dresses.

  She, however, was in dire need of a dress, some stockings and new shoes. Her serviceable shoes had fallen apart and had to be tied with a twine when she did work or had to walk to the village square.

  Although she’d been too proud to allow anyone to see how bad things had become, she knew people suspected. Often, she’d catch long glimpses traveling over her and the children. Each time, her stomach had tightened with an uncomfortable feeling she’d become much too familiar with.

  They arrived at home and, once she hurried the still groggy children into the house, she took the horse to the small stable, unhitched it and then guided it to a small corral. To keep it warm, she placed a tattered blanket over its back and ensured it had water and hay. Later, she’d put the animal into the barn.

  Inside the house, Cairon had built a fire in the fireplace and Millie huddled in front of it in a blanket. Already, her eyes drooped, and Bree placed a pillow on the floor for her. “Sleep, little one.”

  With newly acquired oil, the house was soon bright with light from two lanterns. Bree then went to the kitchen to find a market basket.

  She’d go to the merchant and the butcher shop before too many people were out and about. The shoemaker had shoes he’d put on hold for her. She could pick them up that morning.

  After wrapping a warm fur around her shoulders, Bree looked to Cairon. “Lock the door behind me. I will return shortly.”

  The day was colder than usual. By the time Bree left the shoemaker’s, her teeth chattered and she decided to hurry home. She’d yet to purchase any flour, but the walk to the miller was just a bit too far at that moment.

  As she approached home, she noted Naill’s large warhorse in the corral with her smaller mare. Bree closed her eyes to fortify herself against making a scene in front of the children.

  She hurried into the house, placed the overburdened basket on the floor and went to the fireplace.

  The children sat at the table, each with a bowl in front of them. Millie smiled widely. “Da made soup.”

  She looked to the kitchen where Naill was refilling a bowl for Cairon who accepted it and looked to her.

  “I could have gone to the market for ye, Mum.”

  It was hard not to love her son so much more for his wonderful heart. “I do not mind, Cairon. Ye do more than enough for me.” She held her hands up to the fire, annoyed when her stomach grumbled at the smell of chicken stew.

  Naill came to her. “I saved plenty for ye.”

  “I hope ye did not kill one of our chickens. They kept us fed for the last season with their eggs.”

  “I did not.”

  “Come sit,” Millie called out happily. Reluctantly, Bree went to the kitchen.

  Naill pushed her to a chair. “I will fill yer bowl. Sit.”

  Whatever he was doing perplexed her. Never in their entire marriage had he cooked or served her. Even after giving birth, he’d paid someone to prepare food and bring it. She peered into the bowl. In it were crudely cut chunks of potatoes and carrots along with the chicken. It was flavorful and she was surprised at enjoying it.

  “I wasn’t aware ye knew how to cook,” Bree said.

  He’d lowered to a chair across the table from her to eat. “I often help the cook at the northern post. The men say my chicken stew is their favorite.”

  Admittedly, it was nice to see her family gathered around the table. However, her husband’s presence brought feelings of bitterness and anger at how hard things had been for her and the children.

  “Da, are ye leaving again?” Millie asked. “I hope not.”

  Naill looked to Bree before replying. “I hope not as well, wee one.”

  The children finished eating and, soon, Millie ran about the main room, playing with imaginary playmates, while Cairon, ever so serious, looked out the window.

  “Can ye go feed the chickens, please, darling?” Bree asked Cairon, knowing he was looking for any excuse to go out and meet with some of his friends. “After, ye can take the m
ending to Brice’s mother for me.”

  When Cairon walked out, Naill studied her. “Ye do mending for others?”

  “I needed to find ways to pay for necessities.”

  He bowed his head. “I cannot begin to find words to tell ye how terrible I feel for the way I’ve neglected ye.”

  Unsure what to say, Bree remained quiet. She studied her hands. Once, they’d been smooth. Now, they were cut and scarred. Too many times, she’d broken her nails while doing repairs around the house in the years he’d been gone.

  “I accept yer apology, Naill. However, I remain firm in my decision. The children and I must learn to take care of ourselves. Ye coming and disrupting things only to leave again, only makes it harder for me.” She wiped away a tear. “I am not naïve. I know ye no longer love me. But I expected that ye would at least keep yer vows to me.”

  “I do love ye, Bree.” He tried to take her hand, but she moved it out of reach. “I beg that ye give me time to prove that I can change and, once again, be the man ye married.”

  She couldn’t help but be surprised at his words. “What do ye mean?”

  “When we lived in the cottage over by the mill, I promised to always care for ye and our family. I told ye that I would ensure ye would always feel protected and secure. I failed and did not keep my word.”

  Bree turned to watch Millie pretending to scold her doll for not listening. The little girl looked to her with a toothy smile. “She is quite unruly.”

  Bree nodded. “Take her to yer bedroom. Perhaps she needs to lie down.”

  Her daughter hurried from the room and she knew that, soon, the little girl would be fast asleep.

  “Naill, I wish for nothing more than for us to be a family. I also wish that I could believe ye. But for years, ye have not been that man, the one who loved me so deeply that he’d convinced the laird to allow him to remain behind.”

  “What ye say is true. But know that I have never stopped loving ye. It is only that I have been blinded by my ego and the need to be the best at what I do.”

  His green gaze met hers and her breath caught at the sincerity in his eyes.

  That night when they went to bed, Bree allowed herself to enjoy making love with her husband. Although in the back of her mind, resentment reared, she tried not to give it free rein. She loved Naill, but each day that she’d felt alone and without enough had chipped away at the depth.

  While he slept, she watched over him for a long time, wondering if what he’d said was true. That he would do anything to convince her to allow him to live there. Cairon and Millie deserved to have their father more and it wasn’t fair to her children that she keep him away. However, when the next battle came or the next call for guards at one of the borders, Naill would leave and, once again, for long months, they would be forced to make it on their own.

  Morning came and Bree woke to the smell of food cooking. She sat up to the sound of Millie laughing. “Da, ye do not know how to make porridge.”

  Was he cooking again? Bree lay back onto the bed, unsure how to handle what was happening. Surely her husband did not plan to cook every meal. She rolled to her side, enjoying being able to remain in bed a few minutes longer.

  Millie hurried into the room. “Mum, Da said to bring ye this.”

  The little girl held up a cup of hot cider. “It is good, I tasted it.”

  Bree laughed. There was only about half the liquid left. “Thank ye, little one.” She sipped the honey-sweetened liquid, enjoying it.

  Not wishing to have to speak to Naill just yet, she lingered in the bedroom. Her emotions were stripped raw. It seemed as if every inch were exposed and sensitive to the touch.

  Finally, unable to keep from it, she went downstairs. The children were at the table eating, but Naill was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where is yer da?” she asked.

  Cairon motioned to the door. “A man came from the keep for him.”

  Her heart plummeted. Of course. He’d be gone again. No doubt, whoever had come was here to fetch him for some duty or another.

  Grabbing her shawl, she spoke to the children in what she hoped sounded like a cheerful tone. “I’ll go feed the chickens. Finish yer meal and wash out the bowls.”

  The cold morning air took her breath as she continued toward the chicken coop. Naill stood with a guard, who instantly greeted her.

  “Ye are here early,” she told the young man.

  “I have to return in time for archery practice,” he informed her.

  She fed the chickens and collected eggs while trying to hear what the men spoke of. Whatever it was seemed serious by the low tones they spoke in.

  When she walked to the door, Naill stood alone, waiting for her. “I would have done that. Ye should go in. It is cold outside.”

  “When do ye leave?”

  “Bree, we will discuss…”

  “Tell me now. I deserve to know.” She hated that her eyes welled up. “When are ye leaving?”

  “I am not going back.”

  The words made little sense. “What do ye mean?”

  “Before coming here yesterday, I informed the laird that I was considering no longer working as part of the guard.”

  “Why was the archer here?”

  “To know my final decision and inform Malcolm.”

  She looked up at him. “Ye are quitting? How will we live? Do ye have work planned?”

  It was as if she’d hit him by the way he exhaled. “We have enough money to live comfortably for a long time. I do plan to teach archery and make bows.”

  It couldn’t possibly be true. Bree took a step back. “Why?”

  “Because I do not wish to leave again. I do not want to lose ye, to continue to live in a way that violates my vows and promises to ye.”

  When her husband pulled her into an embrace, she was without words. The strength of his large body and protection in his arms had been missing from her life for so long, a sob escaped.

  “I have not been a good husband to ye, Bree. I want to do better, to give ye the good life I promised.” It took a few moments before she realized he was crying.

  The basket of eggs fell to the ground as she wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Naill.”

  “Please tell me ye will try to love me again,” Naill said.

  Bree let out a sigh, sliding her hands down his wide back. “I never stopped loving ye. But I will need time to trust ye.”

  He straightened and met her gaze, seeming embarrassed at his showing of emotion. “Then I will fight to gain it.”

  For a long moment, they stood outside their home, arms around each other, until Cairon came out. “Are ye not cold out here?”

  “I cannot wait to show off,” Millie said, skipping in a circle.

  It was Yule’s Eve and the family was to go celebrate at the keep. Naill came up behind Bree and helped tie the fastenings of her new gown. The dress was much too elaborate, but he’d insisted that the dressmaker spare no detail.

  She had to admit to feeling beautiful in it.

  The way her husband looked at her confirmed that she looked as pretty as she felt. He pressed a kiss to her neck. “I cannot wait to get ye out of it.”

  “Move away! Ye will ruin my hair,” she protested weakly.

  The entire way to the keep, she taught the children words to songs that would be sang that night. When Naill joined in, his deep voice slightly off key, her heart melted at the sound of the family singing.

  The keep gates opened upon their arrival and, immediately, she felt the awe that came from the great house filled with people, lights and food.

  It was her clan, the place she’d always felt part of. That night, however, was even more special. Bree would celebrate without resentment or bitterness.

  It was late when they finally climbed into bed. Naill kissed her, his lips tasting of ale and merriment.

  “Are ye happy, Wife?”

  “I am.”

  “May I remain yer husband and love ye for many Yules to
come?”

  “Yes.”

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Hildie McQueen

  Clan Ross Series

  A Heartless Laird

  A Hardened Warrior

  A Hellish Highlander

  A Flawed Scotsman

  The Lyon’s Den Connected World

  The Lyon’s Laird

  About the Author

  Most days USA Today Bestseller Hildie McQueen can be found in her overly tight leggings and green hoodie, holding a cup of British black tea while stalking her hunky lawn guy. Author of Medieval Highlander and American Historical romance, she writes something every reader can enjoy.

  Hildie’s favorite past-times are reader conventions, traveling, shopping and reading.

  She resides in beautiful small town Georgia with her super-hero husband Kurt and three little doggies.

  Visit her website at www.hildiemcqueen.com

  Facebook: HildieMcQueen

  Twitter: @HildieMcQueen

  Instagram: hildiemcqueenwriter

  Never Keep a Secret at Christmas

  Maggi Andersen

  When her father suffers an attack of gout, Alice Dountry must spend Christmas with her sister, Marian and her husband Viscount Belfries. Their neighbor, the gruff, bad-tempered Earl of Hawkinge, has refused Marian’s invitation to Christmas dinner. When Alice chats with him over the garden wall she suspects something deeper lies beneath his humbug opinion of Christmas. Hawkinge and his grandson, Hugh Gifford, have argued. Alice writes to Hugh to tell him of his grandfather’s loneliness but must keep it a secret from her sister. When the handsome Lord Gifford arrives, there is an immediate spark between him and Alice. But Lord Hawkinge is barely civil to his grandson. And Marian and her husband argue over the secret letter.