All Things Merry and Bright: A Very Special Christmas Tale Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “He’s making up for lost time,” Jane said primly. “This year, I took him to the Exeter Exchange—”

  “How was the menagerie?” Daphne asked.

  Jane’s eyes widened. “The roar of the lions frightened horses passing in the street!”

  “She means it frightened her,” Xavier said with a grin. “I told you it was safe.”

  Jane shivered. “I much preferred the kangaroo. It never once roared at me.”

  “Go on,” Xavier prompted. “Or I’ll roar at you.”

  “Right.” She tilted her head in thought. “And last, I treated him to… ecstasy.”

  “My turn,” Xavier announced before any of the laughing friends could ask for clarification. “I love my love with a J, because she is joyful.”

  “Is that poetic license for ‘incorrigible?’” Kate asked.

  “I’ll allow it,” Ravenwood said. “Jane is incorrigible, with a silent J.”

  “Janecorrigible,” she said with a nod. “I like it.”

  Xavier tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. “I hate Jane because… she’s a genius.”

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t start with J.”

  “See?” He tickled her side. “She always has to be right.”

  “Ravenwood?” Jane demanded. “A ruling, please?”

  “I’ll allow it,” he said again, unable to stop his mouth from curving. “What’s next?”

  Xavier straightened. “Every year, I take her to every subscription library in London—”

  “None of that starts with J!” Jane protested.

  “You only visit libraries,” he pointed out.

  She conceded the point. “Fair enough.”

  “And this year, I treated her to a gift from… John Arpthorp’s shop.”

  Jane placed a hand to her chest and gave a meaningful look to the ladies. “Arpthorp’s corsets and unmentionables are divine.”

  “You just mentioned them,” Xavier whispered. “You promised.”

  “Well done.” Sarah pointed to the tree. “Candles!”

  While Jane and Xavier hunted the perfect bough for their tapers, Kate leaned over to Ravenwood to whisper, “Shall we plan a visit to John Arpthorp?”

  “Definitely,” he whispered back. “I cannot wait to strip you of whatever we’re about to buy.”

  “My turn,” Daphne announced with a soft smile at her husband. “I love my love with a B, because he is brilliant.”

  “A wise man never argues with his wife,” Bartholomew agreed solemnly.

  Daphne continued, “I hate him because he is… brawny.”

  “What?” everyone choked out. “What’s wrong with muscles?”

  “All the women stare at him!” Daphne said, affecting the mien of a woman incensed by jealousy. “He’s mine!”

  “They weren’t staring at my brawn,” Bartholomew consoled her. “They were trying to figure out why my leg kept applauding them.”

  “Lies,” she said immediately. “They still stare, even with the new leg. But they shan’t have you. That’s why I take you to bed and treat you to bliss and intend to keep you very, very busy—”

  Bartholomew cut off her tirade with a kiss. “I love my love with a D, because she is both daffy and devoted.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “You say the sweetest things.”

  “It’s true,” he said. “I have never met anyone more passionate about helping people in need. Oftentimes, your sense of humor is the only light in their lives.”

  “That… is incredibly sweet,” Daphne admitted. “I love you, too.”

  Bartholomew continued, “I hate her because she is… determined.”

  “I thought you liked my determination,” she protested.

  “You bullied me into becoming your fiancé,” he reminded her.

  “Only the first time,” she said with a straight face. “I turned you down the second time, which makes you the determined one.”

  “True,” he conceded. “This year, I took Daphne to… dinner.”

  Grace arched her eyebrows. “Dinner?”

  Daphne nodded. “We’re gone most of the year. By now, we’ve been to every hotel and pub in England. I’ll write a guidebook if I ever run out of charities.”

  “Which means no guidebook,” Bartholomew said. “Which is too bad, because I always treat Daphne to dessert.”

  “Excellent.” Kate clapped her hands. “To the tree with you and your candles.”

  “Last couple,” Ravenwood said gruffly. His heart warmed. The evening was turning out perfectly after all. “Grace, are you ready?”

  “I think so.” She took a deep breath and turned to Oliver. “I love my love with an O, because he is observant.”

  Oliver raised his brows. “Bartholomew gets ‘brawny,’ and I get ‘observant?’”

  She nodded shyly. “Whenever you see someone in trouble, you rush in to help. It’s why I fell in love with you.”

  “I’ll take it,” he said quickly, and kissed her on her forehead.

  Grace continued, “I hate Oliver because he is… organized.”

  “You should see my sister,” Ravenwood murmured.

  “What’s wrong with putting things in order?” Oliver protested.

  “When you tidy my things, I can’t find them anymore,” she shot back. “This year, I took Oliver to the Opera House—”

  “I took you,” he said between laughter. “It’s my box.”

  “‘Our’ box,” she allowed. “And then I treated him to… er… orgeat?”

  Edmund frowned. “I thought Oliver didn’t like orgeat.”

  “Oliver does not,” Oliver agreed. “It’s rubbish.”

  “It starts with O,” Grace said.

  “So does ‘orange marzipan,’” he pointed out. “And ‘oats.’ And ‘olives.’”

  “And ‘outrageously arrogant about the letter O during his wife’s first game-play,’” Grace added, and stuck out her tongue.

  “I promise to make it up to you later.” He whispered something into her ear that made her cheeks flush bright red.

  “Deal,” she said faintly.

  “I wish we’d had a Whispering Gallery for that one,” Kate murmured to Ravenwood.

  He rather agreed.

  Oliver straightened and began his turn. “I love my love with a G, because she is gifted. Grace makes her loved ones feel very loved.”

  She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you.” He squeezed her hand. “I hate her because… Grace is grouchy whenever she’s hungry.”

  Bartholomew leaned forward. “How grouchy is grouchy?”

  “You should hear the rude things she says when her stomach starts growling.” Oliver widened his eyes in shock. “I fear for my safety. This is my cry for help.”

  Grace swatted him with a sofa pillow. “You cad, I’m growing a baby in there!”

  “You are?” All the friends jumped up to embrace them at once. “Congratulations!”

  “I took her to Gunter’s Tea shop,” Oliver managed, from somewhere deep within the pile, “and treated Grace to great quantities of everything.”

  “I said I’m expecting!” came Grace’s muffled protest.

  “Expecting twins?” Sarah asked slyly as they all resumed their seats.

  Grace covered her ears. “Can’t hear you.”

  “Triplets?”

  Ravenwood tapped a spoon against his wine glass to stop the commotion.

  When he had everyone’s attention, he grinned. “Shall we do this again next year?”

  “Absolutely,” Sarah said. “I can’t wait to meet Grace’s quintuplets.”

  Grace tossed a pillow at her. “There’s just one.”

  “Which makes six so far for the new generation.” Jane’s eyes turned dreamy. “Do you think they’ll be proper, or will they turn out just like us?”

  “Proper,” Ravenwood said, at the same time Kate said, “Just like us.”

  He grinned at his wife. “We’ll h
ave to wait and see.”

  And with that, the First Annual Ravenwood Tree Party was born.

  The End

  Thank You for Reading

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  Acknowledgments

  As always, I could not have written this book without the invaluable support of my critique partners. Huge thanks go out to Erica Monroe and Darcy Burke. You are the best!

  Lastly, I want to thank the Dukes of War facebook group, my Historical Romance Book Club, and my fabulous street team. Your enthusiasm makes the romance happen.

  Thank you so much!

  About the Author

  Erica Ridley is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author of historical romance novels.

  In the new 12 Dukes of Christmas series, enjoy witty, heartwarming Regency romps nestled in a picturesque snow-covered village. After all, nothing heats up a winter night quite like finding oneself in the arms of a duke!

  Her two most popular series, the Dukes of War and Rogues to Riches, feature roguish peers and dashing war heroes who find love amongst the splendor and madness of Regency England.

  When not reading or writing romances, Erica can be found riding camels in Africa, zip-lining through rainforests in Central America, or getting hopelessly lost in the middle of Budapest.

  A Very Special Gift

  An Extended Epilogue for The Highlander’s Gift

  Eliza Knight

  The Sutherlands are back with A Very Special Gift in this extended epilogue of Bella and Niall’s story.

  The Highlander’s Gift Info

  The bestselling Stolen Bride series continues in this spin-off of our favorite hero and heroine’s children!

  Betrothed to a princess until she declares his battle wound has incapacitated him as a man, Sir Niall Oliphant is glad to step aside and let the spoiled royal marry his brother. He’s more than content to fade into the background with his injuries and remain a bachelor forever, until he meets the Earl of Sutherland’s daughter, a lass more beautiful than any other, a lass who makes him want to stand up and fight again.

  As daughter of one of the most powerful earls and Highland chieftains in Scotland, Bella Sutherland can marry anyone she wants—but she doesn’t want a husband. When she spies an injured warrior at the Yule festival who has been shunned by the Bruce’s own daughter, she decides a husband in name only might be her best solution.

  They both think they’re agreeing to a marriage of convenience, but love and fate has other plans…

  The Highlander’s Gift

  Dupplin Castle

  Scottish Highlands

  In the verra wee hours, just before dawn… December 24, 1320

  “THIS ISNA GOING to work.” Bella scowled down at Niall who lay beneath her, but she could barely see him for all the bulk of her belly.

  The dim light of a candle lit their bedchamber. The one they’d so happily romped in over the last nine months, which had led her to this very pregnant state. The situation was not helped by the fact that while she felt as large as the cows in the field, her husband seemed to be more fit than ever. Muscles rippled over his chest and abdomen, and his arms flexed and bulged. While she felt her face was poofy and her eyes sleepy, he appeared merry and bright. If she didn’t want to kiss him so badly, she might have slapped him instead, just to see if doing so would give her a little relief. Then again, she felt quite guilty for being so out of sorts. After all, the child within her womb was a miracle.

  Niall glided his palm over her belly, then up to her breast. She gasped as his thumb brushed over her sensitive skin, and the pink, pebbled tip. “’Twill work, love,” he crooned. “Let’s just give it a try.”

  Och, but he was so handsome. And if she wasn’t feeling so… grouchy, she would have melted. Bella crossed her arms over her chest. “I am miserable.”

  “Let me make ye feel better.” His tone was soothing, hinting at the seduction she knew he was so talented with.

  Perhaps… they could try after all. Then a thump from inside reminded her that half a second ago she’d been ready to call off all bed play until after the birthing. Saints, if she wasn’t twice the size of a cow, and hot as Hades to boot, she might have taken him up on the offer.

  “I dinna want to hurt the bairn,” she said, as an excuse.

  “The midwife said ye’d not hurt the bairn. She even said this will aid in getting the labor pains started.”

  Bella let out a long breath. The pains… She didn’t really want them to start. They scared her. There was so much that could happen. So much she wasn’t prepared for. But she didn’t want to voice those fears to Niall. He was already worried enough about her as it was. “Is it not a sin to make love to your wife when she’s three years with child?”

  Niall rolled his eyes and pinched her bare nipple teasingly. “It has been only nine months.”

  Only…

  “Feels like three years.” At first, she’d not even known she was with child. And then it was as if lightning struck, and as soon as she knew, she was ill for days, weeks. Nay, it had been months! When she was finally feeling well enough to move around and participate in normal daily activities, she’d been as big as a house and barely able to do anything. Even her beloved archery had been a difficult task.

  “I’m sorry ye’re so miserable. ’Haps if we just try?” He wriggled beneath her, and the feel of his hard cock swelling between her thighs sent a sharp twinge of desire rocking through Bella.

  She wanted to do more than try. She wanted desperately for him to make love to her. It had been weeks. Every time he came to bed she was either asleep already or sweating as though a fire surrounded her, or complaining about the aches in her back and the swelling in her feet. It was a wonder he even wanted to bed her at all anymore.

  Alas, Niall was more than attentive, and catered to her every whim. She was blessed truly, and couldn’t ask for anything more—save she was. She wanted more. She wanted to make love to her husband—and vigorously. Niall was always more than attentive as a lover. And soon, it would be months before they could make love. If she could just put the thoughts of her bairn out of her mind, and pretend her belly did not sit so generously on his…

  As if to taunt her all the more, the wee bairn in her belly started to do what felt like a jig inside her. Hands and feet pummeled her insides. Bella placed a hand on her belly and shook her head with a rueful smile. “The bairn does not want to give us a moment of privacy. Perhaps if I walk a minute, that will rock him or her to sleep?”

  Niall grinned, placing a palm where their bairn made her belly roll. “I’ll walk with ye.”

  They both stood from bed, completely naked. Thankfully, within a few steps the movement in her belly stopped, because all Bella had to do was take one look at Niall’s raging arousal to feel truly desired. Goodness, but his shaft stood at proud attention. And saints did she want him in return.

  “Dinna look at me like that,” Niall warned. “I’m likely to bend ye over this bed.”

  Bella
raised a single brow, meeting his gaze. “And what’s wrong with that?”

  Niall’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Are ye certain?”

  “I want ye, Niall. And I dinna know when the next chance we’ll have will be.”

  He groaned and closed the short distance between them, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her flush to him. He teased her lips with his teeth and tongue, kissing her deeply before inching away to whisper, “I want ye.”

  Bella turned from him, bracing herself on the bed, her arse pointed toward him. “I’m yours.”

  “But I want ye—”

  “Now, please.”

  Gripping his cock, he slid it along her folds, and then gently eased inside. Bella groaned, rolling her hips back against him. With his hand circling around the front of her, he teased her until she cried out with pleasure, and then he allowed himself to climax.

  As they collapsed back into bed, their bodies slick with sweat and their hearts still pounding with pleasure, Bella was certain she’d never been happier in her life.

  Later that evening…

  A YEAR AGO, Bella Sutherland Oliphant would not have thought it possible that she’d be in the situation she currently found herself.

  However, the pain tearing through her abdomen was sign enough that she’d not been living in a dream state the last nine months.

  Snow blanketed the landscape outside their castle, and the idea of rushing outside and leaping headlong into a pile of it sounded most appealing. She was so hot. Sweat poured from her temples, beaded her lip, and slicked every other part of her skin.

  Beside her, her sister Greer fanned her, and though the slight breeze was refreshing, it wasn’t doing nearly enough for the heat.

  “Oh, heaven help me,” she grumbled, clutching onto her belly, and curling forward where she sat on her bed wearing only a thin chemise, soaked through with perspiration.

  “You’re doing wonderful, my sweet.” Her mother’s voice was soothing beside her. With a gentle hand, she stroked away the soaked hair sticking to Bella’s forehead. The tender ministration was enough to give Bella a brief reprieve, and she drew in a long, ragged breath.