The Midwinter Mail-Order Bride: A Fantasy Holiday Romance

by Kati Wilde

  Her face colored prettily. Unable to resist, he caught her chin and claimed a kiss, her lips like a fire beneath his. She leaned into him, bracing her hand against his chest, her fingers a burning brand upon his icy skin. With a lick, he tasted the sweetness of her mouth, and her soft moan in response lay her arousal as naked as his. Satisfied for the moment, he drew back. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed.

  Then, with a heavy sigh, she turned her head and cast her gaze up to the palace spires. “I suppose I should go and find out if my parents survived.”

  “No.” His hard reply brought her gaze swinging back to his. “You are Anja, Queen of the Four Kingdoms. You do not go to them. They come to you.”

  Her brows arched. She tilted her head, studying his face. Then she shrugged. “Very well. Though they probably won’t bother to come.”

  If they did not, this spider would not be the last thing Kael destroyed today. Bracing his hand on the edge of the fountain, he surged from the pool in a cascade of bloodied water, then caught a glimpse of purple from the corner of his eye. At the edge of the courtyard, a tall man gaped at the massacred spider.

  “You there!” Kael called. “Send word to the palace! It is Midwinter’s Day and the Scalewood wards have failed. The call throughout the city for the replenishing ritual must be made now.”

  Now the man gaped at him.

  “Also tell your king and queen that Queen Anja awaits them here, upon her throne.”

  The man gaped at Anja.

  “And I left a black horse and cloak near the city gate. See they are brought to me.”

  The man gaped at Kael’s cock.

  “Run!” Kael bellowed. “Or the next sword you see will be the blade that felled the Child-Eater!”

  The man fled.

  Bemused, Anja asked, “My throne?”

  “Anywhere you sit will be your throne.” He swept up his bloodied sword and the wet tunic, began cleaning his blade. “I pray my cock will be your favorite.”

  Her giggle left a smile that lasted only a few moments, and her gaze rose to the spires again. Kael forced himself to patience, for a king and queen just released from an ensorcellment that had taken over their realm could not immediately attend to anyone without first knowing what damage had been done. As there had been, judging by the grieving wails that found their way to the courtyard. Anja closed her eyes at each one, as if she felt that grief, too. But there was more than grief that he saw rising beneath her skin. Rage. It filled her as rage had once filled him, and he thought that the king and queen of Ivermere would be very smart to come before the fire of it built too much higher in their daughter.

  The courtyard had filled with gawkers. Some ventured close to Anja and Kael, and he gladly shared the tale of how Anja had demanded Kael the Conqueror’s help at the point of her sword and insisted upon returning to Ivermere to slay the spider. How Anja had fought and defeated the bandit who’d tried to stop her from her quest. How Anja had boldly won the Butcherer’s heart and had been named Queen of the Four Kingdoms upon Midwinter’s Eve. How Anja had bravely guided him through the wardless forest. How Anja had been the only person with clear eyes to see the horror that had lain waste to Ivermere, how she had pointed him toward the killing blow. By the time he had told it several times over, the tall man in purple finally returned with his horse, his cloak, and a blanket.

  Kael tied the blanket around his waist, though he was still too overheated for a cloak. He looked to Anja and decided they had waited long enough. He reached for his sword and axe.

  A clatter of hooves drew his gaze. A procession of riders wearing gray wolfskin coats followed a golden carriage.

  At his side, Anja gracefully rose to her feet. Blood streaked her cheek. Her braids had come partially undone, strands falling in a loose array around her face. The grime of two weeks of travel had collected on her boots and the hem of her coat. From the first time he’d seen her to now, there had been a hardening within her, like steel heated and cooled and tested. Yet she also burned brighter, so much brighter.

  Her mother alighted from the carriage in golden crown and sleek gown. She wrinkled a delicately thin nose at the spider, then turned rounded eyes on Anja. The smile she had pasted onto her spell-reddened lips faltered.

  Because she could not help but see what Kael did. What anyone with eyes must see. Even disheveled and dirty, wearing only her white hair as a crown, Anja was many times greater the queen that her mother was.

  And this only her first day.

  Her father emerged from the carriage after the queen. With features similar to his wife’s, he looked nothing like Anja. Neither of them did. He turned a broad smile on Kael, gaze flickering only briefly to his bare chest. “We heard the King of the Four Kingdoms had arrived and slayed a monster in our midst. That is a fine introduction. Welcome to Ivermere, your majesty.”

  Still holding his axe, Kael commanded flatly, “Welcome my queen, first. It was she who demanded we travel here to kill this spider—and in doing so, saved all of our kingdoms.”

  The queen’s smile returned in full and she looked in wonder at Anja. “This is the spider you spoke of before? I wonder how it passed through the wards—”

  “It didn’t, Mother,” Anja said tightly. “It didn’t come from Scalewood. You created it when you made the kissing potion.”

  Genuine disbelief crossed the queen’s face. “That can’t be—”

  “It is. The spell you used to create the potion scaled, and it did this to a common spider. The potion was intended to make my body helpless in sleep. The spider’s webs did the same but kept everyone in a nightmare of unmoving wakefulness. You tailored the potion to me, the magic was intended for me. And the spider’s concealment was intended for everyone but me.” Her voice hardened. “You have done this. Ivermere helpless. The wards gone. All the world at risk from the creatures in Scalewood. Because of your potion.”

  “I…” Her mother swallowed. “I only meant well. And you and your husband”—her gaze flickered to Kael’s glowering face; she paled with fear and looked away—“seem to be getting on well. The spider is dead, and the wards are replenished. All is well again. There is no need for this anger or this unguarded speech.”

  “All is well?” Openly seething, Anja stalked closer to the queen. “People are dead, Mother. Your potion killed them. Your decision not to believe me when I said a spider lurked in your bedchamber killed them. Drugging me with the potion and sending me away killed them. All of these choices you made, you killed them, simply because you wanted to cast me out in the manner most convenient for you and for Father. Do you not see this?”

  Bewildered, hurt, angry, the queen’s cheeks stained with color as she looked to her husband, who was sighing and shaking his head. She looked back at Anja. “The scaling corrupted the spider, Anja—and it killed them. Do you not see that?”

  Her mouth in a flat line, Anja simply regarded her for a long moment. Then she quietly turned to Kael and said, “Nothing I say will make a difference. Let us go.”

  He lifted her into the saddle, swung up behind her. A courtyard full of round-eyed, thin-nosed spellcasters stared back at them—some looking uncomfortable, others outraged, others ashamed.

  His gaze settled on the king and queen, and he thought that only kindness could have brought Anja here, braving the Butcherer and bandits and Scalewood, simply in hopes of saving her mother. It must have been kindness, because surely there was nothing here to love. “I will tell you what else has been affected by the scaling of that spell. You have lost a daughter, whose worth you were blind to. I have won a wife, whose value is all I see. She wields powerful magic, pure magic, though she is only just beginning to know the extent of her power. You would do well to send some of your people to Grimhold to learn with her, and learn from her.”

  Her parents exchanged a weary glance. Her father said, “Forgive me, your majesty. Anja has an unguarded tongue. If she has lied to you and said—”

  “Do not disparage my qu
een!” His thundering roar echoed through the courtyard. “I have told you what she is. And if I ever hear word that you do not speak of Anja with the respect she deserves, then all of Ivermere will soon afterward discover exactly why I am called Kael the Conqueror.”

  And that was all that needed to be said. Kael touched his heels to the warhorse’s sides and pushed him into a quick pace out of the courtyard and onto one of the main streets, ready to see no more of Ivermere.

  Just beyond the city gate, a rumble of hoof beats came up behind them. The hunters, in their gray wolfskins. A tall, wiry woman with gray-streaked hair drew up beside Kael’s horse—though careful to remain at a position lower than his.

  “Princess Anja,” she said.

  Kael growled, and the hunter hastily amended it.

  “Queen Anja.”

  Her gaze wary, Anja leaned forward to regard the other woman. “Mistress.”

  “We are riding ahead to make certain that no monsters breached the wards, so you will have safe passage through Scalewood.” The Mistress of the Hunt’s steady gaze didn’t waver as she added, “Would you like to ride with us again?”

  Anja’s lips trembled before firming. “Not this day. Perhaps in the spring, however, you can journey to Grimhold, and we can speak about training hunters there. Scalewood does not hold the only dangers to our peoples, and the Four Kingdoms might need a Mistress of the Hunt.”

  “I think it already has a fine candidate.” The woman grinned. “Queen Anja, who passed through the Scalewood unharmed. You will be a legend.” She glanced at Kael, tipped her chin. “Your majesty.”

  He nodded in return, and taking the gesture for the dismissal it was, she whistled and the hunters rode forward, cheering for Anja the Unharmed as they galloped past.

  Though she hadn’t been completely unharmed. She had raged at her parents, but also been disappointed in their utter unwillingness to listen to her.

  “You are well?” he asked her softly.

  “Yes.” There was a hitch in her breath, but he recognized her happy tears. “It is just…there is truly a place for me. Here with you. And in our kingdoms.”

  Emotion tightened his throat. “There is.”

  Reaching back, she angled her head for his kiss—then huffed out a laugh. “My coat is bunched between us.”

  “That is not your coat,” he said against her neck.

  Her giggle shook her sweetly against him. “Yes, it is. Lift me up. I will show you how a queen rides double.”

  The gentle demand shot fire through his blood. With his hands spanning her waist, he raised her straight up. Her coat fell between them, curtaining her from his sight.

  “Now turn me to face you,” she said huskily.

  Slowly he lowered her back to his lap, her legs spreading wide to straddle him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled in close.

  “The blanket.” It was a breathless command. “Untie it.”

  He ripped open the knot at his hip and his cock sprang up between them. With a soft groan, Anja reached down and gripped his length, fitting him to her sultry entrance. Kael gritted his teeth against a shout as she pushed down, her luscious hot sheath clasping his shaft in the sweetest embrace.

  “Now,” she panted against his lips. “I’ve claimed my favorite throne. Now ride.”

  He would always obey his queen. So after a kiss, Kael the Conqueror claimed his bride.

  Epilogue

  The Midwinter Bride

  Grimhold

  Here we are again at Kael the Conqueror’s mountain stronghold. A year has passed, and on this day, another Midwinter has come around. Within the great hall, trestle tables are laden with roasted meats and sweet pastries, and benches are filled with celebrants from all corners of the four kingdoms. But the merry conversation between them abruptly falls silent when, from the dais, a great crash and clattering sounds as the king sweeps platters to the floor—then lifts his queen from her golden throne and seats her on the table before him.

  A sigh rises from many of those who sup, for this has happened before: the king will roar for them all to begone, because he has a royal feast to eat. But this time, no roar comes. The king is silent, staring up at his wife’s face in awe and adoration, his great palm flattened over her belly…which is very slightly rounder than it was the year before. And suddenly, everyone within the room understands.

  The queen has just given the king his Midwinter gift.

  But such a gift from a queen is not only for the king, but also for a kingdom—or even four kingdoms. Cheers fill the great hall, along with the knowing nods from the maids who had not had to clean the queen’s monthly rags since the harvest moon, and from the ladies of the court who had whispered behind their hands about how many naps the queen was taking of late. And amidst the noise the king’s eyes grow hotter and hotter, and he opens his mouth—but before he can roar for them all to begone, the queen leans forward and puts her soft lips against his ear, perhaps suggesting that, on this day, the guests might be allowed to finish their meals. Without a word he rises and sweeps her into his arms—and the last sound that is heard from the king and queen that eve is her merry laugh as he carries her from the hall.

  After they depart, a toast is raised to the man sitting beside the king’s giant wooden throne—a toast that is raised every night after the king and queen retire to sleep (every night they are not tossed out of the great hall, that is.) There, all of the representatives of the four kingdoms salute Lord Minam, the royal chamberlain, for the wisdom and courage of posting messages to every kingdom near and far, searching for a bride—for he had brought to them the perfect one.

  None knew that, among them, supped another who had answered those missives. Desperation had given her courage, but her journey had gone astray, and she had arrived far too late—but thought it was for the best, because never could she imagine being loved by Kael as he so clearly loved his Anja. So tomorrow she would continue on, whilst she still had the courage to go, and eventually find magic of her own.

  But that is a tale of anotherwhere and anotherwhen…and, sadly, this Midwinter tale must come to an end.

  The Alien’s Mail-Order Bride

  by Ruby Dixon

  The Wolf’s Mail-Order Bride

  by Ella Goode

  The Runaway Mail-Order Bride

  by Alexa Riley

  The Midwinter Mail-Order Bride

  by Kati Wilde

  Also by Kati Wilde

  Contemporary Romance

  Going Nowhere Fast

  (a new adult romance)

  Secret Santa

  (a holiday novella)

  Beauty In Spring

  (a short Beauty & the Beast romance)

  The Hellfire Riders Motorcycle Club

  The Hellfire Riders, Volumes 1-3: Saxon & Jenny

  (includes: Wanting It All, Taking It All, Having It All)

  The Hellfire Riders, Volumes 4-6: Jack & Lily

  (includes: Betting It All, Risking It All, Burning It All)

  Breaking It All

  (Gunner & Anna)

  Giving It All

  (Saxon & Jenny)

  Craving It All

  (Bull & Sara)

  Faking It All

  (Duke & Olivia)

  Coming Soon

  Losing It All

  (Stone’s book)

  She’s always been on the outside of love, looking in…

  After years of struggling to make ends meet, Emma Williams finally lands a job that suits her perfectly—she enjoys her work, likes her new boss, and especially loves knowing her first paycheck is coming just after Christmas. That is, if she lasts that long. Because Logan Crenshaw, the creative force behind the company, doesn’t seem to want her there.

  Not being wanted is nothing new for Emma…but she doesn’t know what she’s done to make Logan stalk around the office, growling every command as if her very presence infuriates him. She can’t afford to lose this job, so her plan is to keep her head down and try to a
void any contact with him—no matter how big and sexy and unavoidable he is.

  But a Santa hat full of names, an office gift exchange, and one unexpected knock at her door are about to shake up all of her plans…

  Warning: This super-hot holiday romance contains Santa hats, red satin blindfolds, and an obsessed alpha male who knows exactly what to do with his big hands. Lots of swearing. No cheating, no cliffhangers.

  1

  Emma

  “Well, look at that.” My new boss’s bemused voice pulls my attention from the spreadsheet laid out on my computer screen. He’s standing by the Christmas tree in front of the big window overlooking the office parking lot, his ever-present World’s #1 Dad mug in hand. “It’s snowing.”

  Dread tightens my stomach as I look out into the dark. It’s the middle of December, so night comes early, and huge flakes are swirling through the halos of the streetlights. The pavement in the lot is already covered in white.

  “Isn’t that lovely!” Her huge belly leading the way, Marianne bustles in carrying a bright red Santa hat. “We might have a white Christmas after all.”

  A white, freezing Christmas. Oh joy.

  “Maybe you better hold off on hoping for that,” my boss says with a significant glance at her stomach. “You don’t want to be driving to the hospital in a blizzard.”

  “And that’s just like him, Emma.” Marianne’s pretty face is wreathed in a smile as she turns in my direction, so I drum up a weak smile in answer. “You’ll say ‘snow,’ and a moment later, Bruce’ll be thinking ‘blizzard.’ Or we’ll run out of coffee pods, and a moment later he’s dying of thirst. So you keep his head out of the doomsday clouds and you’ll get on just fine.”

  My smile becomes more genuine then. I’ve only been working for Bruce Crenshaw for two weeks, but I’ve seen the older man’s tendency to leap from the mundane to the dramatic in the space of a breath.