O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales

by Kathryn Le Veque

  The only thing Alexander, the youngest of the trio, had wanted was his own ship—a real ship to sail inside their bay, he’d said. A tall order for a lad of just four years, but Tait had commissioned his shipbuilder to fashion a wee sloop big enough so all the children could sail with young Alexander as captain. The tiny vessel was safe in dry dock.

  Tait slammed his fist atop the windowsill. Damn it all to hell and back. This was to have been the finest Yuletide yet. He’d so looked forward to seeing the looks on the children’s faces when they spied their gifts. Those three wild hellions were the closest he had to children of his own. If his worries played out, they’d be the only bairns to bring him joy.

  Shouts and laughter roared louder from down below. Drums, pipes, and singing added to the din. At this rate, the bloody fools would soon shake the fortress from its foundation.

  “Hobbs!” He spun around and watched the door. Feet planted a mite too far apart, he stumbled to the right. Damned floor. Trying to throw him off balance. Couldn’t be all the whisky. He’d not had nearly enough. He grabbed a pistol from a table and fired into the air. That should get his quartermaster’s attention. “Hobbs!” he roared again as he fumbled with the weapon in a drunken attempt to reload it.

  The door opened, and a tall man, his weathered face framed with a set of snowy mutton chops, stuck his head inside. “Aye, Cap’n?”

  “Tell those caterwaulin’ bastards they best be ready to clear ice from all the decks and ropes soon as the sun cracks the sky.” That should make the revelers think twice and finally grant him some peace and quiet. “And I’ll hang any man that fails to show at dawn! Hang’m from the highest yardarm! Haul yer arse down there and give the order!”

  “Now, Cap’n Tait.” Josiah Hobbs, quartermaster, best friend, and confidante for too many years to count, assumed the tone of a mother scolding a child. Only in private would the man dare do so. One of his bushy brows twitched a notch higher. “It be Christmas Eve, Cap’n. The lads are just having a bit a fun. Ye know that as well as I.” Slipping inside the room, he closed the door and leaned back against it with his arms folded. “And tomorrow’s Christmas Day. Maddie and the girls done promised them all a fine pudding and as many songs as they like. Free of charge.”

  That announcement irked him even more. Maddie and her girls at the brothel could celebrate the holiday any way they wished, but they best be leaving his men out of it. “I forbid it.” He gave up attempting to reload the pistol and threw it back to the table. “Tell them I forbid it. Hie yerself down there at once.” He washed down the order with another swig, then glared at the man who still hadn’t moved. “Why the hell ye still standin’ there, man?”

  Hobbs scrubbed a hand down his face. “Ye know ye dinna mean such an order, Cap’n.”

  “The devil I don’t.” He attempted another hard pull off his bottle only to discover it empty. “Dammit!” A raw growl improved his aim as he lobbed the spent vessel at the hearth. Empty satisfaction filled him as it shattered. He turned back to the quartermaster. “What the hell happened to my order to keep the captain’s quarters stocked and at the ready? Do all in this keep need a reminder of who I am and what I expect?”

  “Ye’ve already gone through all of it?” Hobbs stared at him in wonder, then maneuvered his way deeper into the cluttered room filled with nothing but the best of stolen goods. He kicked aside several empties with the toe of his boot. “Ye’ve been holed up here near on three days now. My guess is they’re afeared to enter. Young Kip said ye tossed him out on his arse the last time he brought wood for yer fire. Ye know not a one of’m dares cross ye.”

  “Ye’re always making excuses for them!” Tait dropped himself into a chair in front of the hearth. The unshakeable bleakness, dark with ominous whispers, threatened to choke him. Head propped in one hand, he stared into the flames. “Always making excuses for’m,” he mumbled. Fool Hobbs. Too damned soft to be a proper quartermaster. Times like this, he wondered why he even kept the man around. “Always making excuses!” he repeated louder for Hobbs’s benefit.

  “As I often do for yerself,” the quartermaster said quietly. He pulled up a chair and sat beside him. “Yer mood is blacker than I’ve ever seen it. Ye’ve spent Christmas here at the Cove before when the weather’s been foul. What ails ye, Cap’n?” A kindly smile softened the man’s scowl. “I know ye miss yer cousin’s wee scalawags, but ye’ll see’m come spring. What is it, man? Tell old Hobbs yer troubles.”

  “I’m going to die alone, and when I am gone, there’ll be nary a thing on this earth to show I was once here.” His greatest fear escaped him before he could stop it. He stared into the hearth, losing himself in the shimmer of the glowing coals. Slowly, he shifted and locked eyes with his friend. “I’m getting older, Hobbs, and I fear it. Fear the loneliness of no one giving a damn nor weeping o’er my bones once I’m dead.”

  “Alone? Why, the Cove’s full o’ yer men. And ye’ll be remembered as Captain Tait Mackenzie, pirate lord of the seven seas!” The quartermaster tilted his head toward the window. “A fleet of ships awaits yer command, and all fear the Demon Mackenzie’s wrath.” He snorted and gave Tait a pointed look. “Especially in yer current mood. And how many nights—other than the past few where the devil himself couldna get along with ye—how many nights have ye ever spent alone in that bed? In any bed, for that matter? Maddie and every one of her girls would laugh to hear ye say such. I could call any one of them right now, and they’d come a runnin’.”

  But Hobbs’s heart wasn’t in the reassurance. Even as drunk as he was, Tait could see it in his friend’s eyes. He slowly shook his head and slumped deeper into the chair. “Aye, and in the blink of an eye, every last one of them would leave me. Ye know that. Always other pirates and better fortunes to follow. None of them have any real ties to me. Gold and prosperity are the only bonds that hold them.”

  Hobbs pushed up from his seat with a slow shake of his head. “What about Mistress Tilda? The bairns. Even her husband, Duncan. He’s as good as a brother to ye now. Ye dinna think they’ll mourn for ye once ye’ve passed?”

  “Ye’ll never understand. Ye’ve got Ellie.” Tait leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. None of them understood. None of them knew his fears. And then there was the matter of Ellie. Tait closed his eyes tighter, doing his best to drive thoughts of that sweet woman out of his mind. Not for him. She was far too precious and pure to be sullied by the likes of him.

  “Aye, ye’ve got the right of it there. God indeed blessed me when he gave me back my daughter.” Hobbs kicked bottles and tankards out of his path as he made his way to an opulent sideboard, opened all its gilt-trimmed doors, and searched every shelf. “I canna believe ye’ve drank every drop. How is it ye’re still upright?”

  “I handle my whisky like I handle my women—with the greatest of care and pacing.” Tait forced himself to his feet, planted both hands on the mantelpiece and willed himself not to veer off balance. “Get out, Josiah. Leave me to my pain, aye?”

  “Ye never call me Josiah.”

  “Forgive me.” Head still bowed, Tait started to turn and face the man, then thought better of it. Nay. Not just yet. The movement would surely scuttle his balance. Thankfully, three days of drinking was finally taking its toll and about to render him dead to the world. “Leave me, Hobbs. Now.”

  “I’ll nay leave until ye say ye’ll come and eat with Ellie and me tomorrow. She’s commandeered one of the kitchens and been working on a wondrous meal. Been cooking for days, she has.” Hobbs gave an affectionate chuckle. “Ye should see how she’s fancied up our place. There’s nary a crack nor cranny that’s not covered with every bit a greenery she could find and all manner of ribbons and bows. ’Tis sure to be a fine Christmas Day.” He cleared his throat. “I know she’d love to have ye join us. ’Twould pain her something fierce to see ye suffering like this. ’Specially during Yuletide.”

  Tait found the fortitude to straighten and turn. Hobbs didn’t understand. Christmas Da
y with the man and his lovely daughter would be unbearable. “No. Now get out. That’s an order.”

  Hobbs didn’t move. “Ellie wants ye there. It would make her happier than ye could know.”

  Hobbs was a good man. Always did best for his daughter. And who could blame him? A respectable lass and the Cove’s greatest treasure. For the life of him, Tait couldn’t understand why his quartermaster hadn’t whisked her away from this den of thieves and found her a good husband. In fact, it pained him that the man hadn’t done so, pained him more than he cared to admit. Such a fine woman. Hair dark as good brandy. Amber eyes brighter than fire. She was a mite on the wispy side when it came to curves but fetching just the same. Much too good for the likes of anyone here at the Cove—especially Tait. He’d decided long ago ’twas best if he followed his own orders and gave Mistress Ellie a wide berth for her own good and for his. “Why do ye keep her here? ’Tis selfish of ye, ye ken?”

  “Maybe so.” Hobbs stepped closer. “But I have a great deal of lost time to make up for, ye understand? Didn’t even know about her ’til she was all grown.” He shifted in place like a lad due a scolding. “And ’tis my fault she ended up in that cesspit of a workhouse when her mam died. I shouldha done better by Agnes. Shouldha brought her here. She couldha worked in the kitchens or done some such chore, and then I wouldha known about my daughter sooner.”

  Tait moved back to his chair without hitting the floor. If his balance was still intact, that was a sure sign he’d not had enough whisky. He needed more. Enough to knock him out. If such an amount existed. “Ye need to find her a good husband and get her away from here.” The sooner, the better.

  “She likes it here.” The quartermaster returned to the chair beside Tait. “She doesna want to leave, and I’ll nay be forcing her to do anything she doesna wish to do.” He thumped the arm of Tait’s chair. “Say ye’ll come to Christmas dinner so I can tell Ellie. I’ve worked out a new song on my fiddle, and Ellie sings along.” He beamed proudly. “Sings like an angel, she does, if I do say so myself.”

  “I thought I told ye to get out?” Tait glared at the man.

  “I said I’d leave once ye promised to come and celebrate Christmas with Ellie and me.”

  “Christmas is for fools!” Tait immediately regretted the outburst. Shouting pained his throbbing head. Why couldn’t Hobbs understand that the last thing he needed right now was to eat a meal with a woman he could never have? A meal that would only make his fear of dying alone worse? “Get out! Now!”

  “Fine.” Hobbs stood, his expression tight and dark. He pointed at Tait, then shook his finger. “But ye best take care, Cap’n. Spirits walk the earth on this holiest of nights. Walk it looking for miserable folk just like yerself—folk who willna listen to reason. Ye best realize all ye’ve got to be thankful for before a fearsome ghostie decides to step in and teach ye a lesson ye’ll never forget. If ye dinna like the course ye’ve charted for yer life, then change it. It’s yer choice, ye ken?” He poked the air again as he strode toward the door. “Mark my words! This be a blessed time and charged with a higher power ye’d be wise not to challenge.”

  “Ye’re a damned fool!” Tait bellowed. “And send more whisky!” he yelled even louder as the door closed. Ghosts walking the earth. Higher powers. He’d never heard such foolishness. Sounded like Hobbs had been sampling too much drink as well.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, Ellie slowly circled the worktable. Cook had promised her the use of this smaller kitchen for as long as she liked. Even told her she could see to the running of it from now on since it connected to the quarters Ellie shared with her father. After all, Cook had two other massive kitchens, one of them outside for smoking meats and the main kitchen inside.

  Ellie ticked off everything she needed for tomorrow’s special meal as she spied it on the table. A fine goose already plucked, hung in the larder. Salted cod waited in a small barrel. Carrots and potatoes. Suet, currants, and raisins for the best-boiled pudding she ever hoped to make. She’d already baked the loaves of bread and other treats.

  Boatswain Mabry had even given her a lovely brandy for lighting the pudding. Aye, she was ready. Excitement and hope steadily strengthened like a wind filling a sail. She hoped Da had managed to convince Tait to join them. Maybe once he tasted her cooking, he’d give her more than a passing smile.

  A deep sigh escaped her as she sent up the same wish and prayer she had made since they met. Three years she’d tried to attract that stubborn man’s attention. Loved him for three long years. But this was the first time since she had become a resident of the Cove that he’d been here for Christmas, the most blessed and magical time of year. Surely, her wishes on the North Star would grant her his love at last. She’d make him such a good wife. Truly, she would. He so deserved a woman’s loving care.

  “Here ye be.”

  She whirled about with her hands pressed to her throat. “Ye gave me a start, Da! Caught me wool-gathering.” After a quick kiss to her father’s cheek, she laughed and pulled him forward. “Have ye ever seen the makings of such a feast? Look at all this food. Cook sent everything I asked for. Oh, my goodness, we shall eat like kings tomorrow.”

  “Aye, daughter,” he said. “’Twill be a fine Christmas dinner indeed. Finer than any by far.” Hobbs fidgeted a step away from the table. “But I fear it will just be the two of us unless ye have anyone else ye’d like to invite to our table.”

  Her hopes dipped but didn’t fall completely. She hadn’t worked this hard to give up on Tait now. “What did he say? Why won’t he come?”

  Her father slowly shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck as though it ached. “He’s trapped in a dark mood, lass. Best leave him to himself.”

  “But Christmas dinner with us will help him feel better.” She wrung the tail of her apron between her hands. “Goodwill shared makes life brighter and cures all ills, aye?” He had to come. She’d planned it all out to show him how well she could take care of him. “He has to come.” She sounded like a whiny bairn, and she didn’t care. “Why won’t he come?”

  Hobbs shrugged and shook his head. “Said Christmas is for fools.” Her father rested a hand on her arm and gently squeezed. “Give it up, lass. I know what ye’re really trying to do, and it’ll never work.” His kindly look pushed her hopes even lower. “He thinks ye’re too good for everyone here at the Cove—including himself. Even asked me why I hadn’t taken ye off to find ye a husband yet. Said I was being selfish by keeping ye here.” A sad smile followed. “I canna deny that accusation. I am selfish when it comes to ye because I missed so much of yer life. Ye’re a comfort to me, Ellie, and I’m so proud to have ye for a daughter. Cap’n Tait thinks ye too proper…too meek and genteel for the likes of him. A match betwixt the two of ye will never happen.”

  “Meek and genteel?” As a child, she had starved whenever she failed to steal enough to eat. She and Mama had lived in places animals wouldn’t stay. She’d fought for survival at the workhouse, even learned to read and write after working from dusk ’til dawn. “Just because I dinna act the whore or curse the air blue, he thinks me some delicate creature? Some silly female who’ll blush and faint dead away if I hear a bawdy tale?”

  “Now, now. He’s always thought well of ye. Ye know that. That’s why ye’re safe here at the Cove. Not a man alive is brave enough to cross Cap’n and touch ye, and I, for one, am glad of that.” Hobbs went to the cupboard and sorted through several bottles on the shelf. “His stores are gone, but I willna be taking him the best whisky. He’s too drunk to appreciate it.”

  “Give me the bottle.” By the saints, she’d show Tait she wasn’t some delicate flower too precious for his own good. “I’ll make sure he understands that I expect him at my table tomorrow. I’ve worked hard, and willna accept such rude ingratitude from the likes of him.”

  “I dinna think that wise,” her father said, holding the bottle out of reach. “As I said, he’s in a black mood. Old Scratch himself would lock the gates of
hell to keep him out right about now.”

  “The bottle, Da?” She took a step closer, hand still held out. “I willna take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s blessed Yuletide. I’ve goodness and right on my side. Ye watch, I’ll make him see sense.”

  Her father shrugged and headed for the door with the bottle tucked in the crook of his arm. “I willna have ye go alone. Ye can speak yer mind to him if ye must, but I’ll be right there in case he gets more unruly than what ye can handle, understand?”

  “Fine.” She followed him up the back staircase to Tait’s floor, determination increasing with every step. It was high time Captain Tait Mackenzie looked at her as someone other than his quartermaster’s long-lost daughter.

  When they reached his quarters, her father blocked the door with one arm and gave her the sternest look he’d ever given her before. “Remember. He’s drunk. In the foulest of moods. And if he does anything foolish where ye’re concerned, ye know I’ll have to kill him.”

  “I know.” Her father’s love strengthened her. She thanked the good Lord every day for guiding him to her. She took the bottle and hugged it. “I’ll be fine. Ye know he willna hurt me.” Gently, she moved her father’s gnarled hand away from the door and nudged him aside. “Now, let me talk some sense into him, aye?”

  “Good luck with that, daughter.” Hobbs stepped aside. “I’ll be right here.”

  Ellie smiled, rapped on the door, and waited. Nothing but silence came from the room.

  “He’s finally passed out,” her father whispered with an approving nod. “Just as well. I’ve never seen a man drink so much—not even him.”

  “I’m still going to check on him.” She eased open the door and peered inside. “Good heavens,” she whispered.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Why does he need so much? It’s just him in here, aye?” The suite was crammed full of chairs, couches, pillowed benches, and all manner of things. Different styles, fabrics, patterns, but all at a level of gaudiness like she’d never seen before. Shelves and tables overflowed with assorted baubles. The wild mix nearly hurt her eyes.