The Nutcracker Reimagined: A Collection of Christmas Tales

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “No’ any more,” Aggie said with a smile. “But it used to be so bad, I did no’ speak fer many years.”

  Muriel thought that an awful thing, but said nothing.

  “Fredrick helped me find me voice,” Aggie told her.

  Muriel wiped her tears on her sleeve. “Rodrick asked me to marry him,” she said.

  Aggie lifted a pretty brow. “And that is what upset ye so?”

  “Aye,” Muriel whisper.

  “Ours was an arranged marriage of sorts, Fredrick’s and mine. We did no’ love each other at first.”

  Muriel stared in wide-eyed curiosity. “’Twas no’ a love match?”

  Aggie giggled. “The furthest thing from a love match,” she said. “’Twas months before we even consummated our marriage.”

  Truth be told that was also a fear of Muriel’s. How could she give herself freely to Rodrick? Or any man for that matter?

  “Fer ten long years after I was raped, I lived in constant fear, ye ken. The fear was always with me. But something happened months after I married Fredrick. He showed me I no longer had to be afraid, ye see. And I finally decided that I had given far too many years to me rapist. I decided that I was no’ going to give him any more of meself than what he took—and he took everything.”

  “Fredrick never insisted or demanded more?” Muriel asked.

  “Nay, he did no’. He knew, ye ken, about what had happened to me. Fredrick be more than just a kind man, ye see. He be honorable and patient. Even if we had never joined as a man and wife do, he would still love me and he would still be a good father to Ailrig.”

  Honorable. In her heart she knew Rodrick was an honorable man. But could he be as patient with her as Fredrick had been with Aggie?

  Sensing what she was thinking, Aggie smiled warmly. “I think Rodrick be a good man, Muriel. But the only way ye’ll ken if he would wait until ye are ready is to ask.”

  Muriel felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. “I think I hurt him too much,” she said. “I screamed at him and told him nay, that I could no’ marry him or any other man.”

  “I think Rodrick will understand. But ye have to talk to him. If he is the kind of man I think he is, then he will.”

  Muriel was filled with doubt on that matter.

  Her thoughts soon turned to her babe. Aggie was right in that half this babe was her own. Could she ignore the other half that helped make it?

  “God has a plan fer ye, Muriel. I do no’ ken what that plan be, but I do believe everythin’ will turn out as it is meant to. Ye simply have to open yer heart to all that could be and no’ dwell on what has been.”

  The more Rodrick thought on the matter, the angrier he became. He was not angry with himself or even with Muriel. Nay, he was angry with Fergus MacDonald.

  He’ stayed by the stream for a long while, pacing and thinking.

  Muriel had not been upset because he had proposed. She was upset because of what Fergus had done to her. ’Twas all still too raw and fresh in her mind. Rodrick had been a fool for asking so soon. Had he thought it out more clearly, he would have waited to ask for Muriel’s hand. Such as after he killed Fergus MacDonald and brought his head in a basket and presented it to her. Mayhap then she would realize she never had to fear the man again.

  Rodrick was not a man to mince words or to flower them to help break a fall, so to speak. Nay, they did not call him Rodrick the Bold for those reasons. He was Rodrick the Bold because he was as fierce on the battlefield as he was off of it.

  But he knew he had to apologize to Muriel. He could count on one hand the number of times he had apologized in his lifetime. And he’d still have five fingers left.

  Still, he raised his head high, put his shoulders back and headed to Muriel’s hut. First he would apologize for his proposal. Then he would make her a promise: he’d bring Fergus MacDonald’s head to her either in a basket or on a pike. The choice was hers.

  He rapped gently on the door and held his breath. As soon as she opened it, his heart fluttered in his chest. ’Twas more than just his deep-seated need to help her, to make her feel safe. He truly liked the young woman. He also thought her quite beautiful.

  Her eyes were red and puffy, but she did not slam the door in his face. Nay, she did something quite odd considering the state she had been in an hour before. She smiled a bright, beautiful smile and looked quite relieved to see him. “Rodrick,” she said as she let him in.

  Surprised, he could only stare at her in muted silence. What had caused this turn around in behavior?

  She sat down at the little table and offered him a seat. “I do no’ want ye to think that I could no’ marry ye in particular,” she told him.

  That was good to hear and he told her so. “I, too, wish to apologize,” he said. “I think mayhap me proposal was too soon. I did no’ mean to hurt ye.”

  “Ye did no’ hurt me,” she replied softly. “But I ken that I hurt ye. And fer that, I be truly sorry.”

  Aye, her initial response had stung. But after he had thought about it, he could not fault her for her reaction. “I can assure ye, me feelin’s are quite intact,” he said.

  They sat in silence for a little while Muriel puzzled over just how to broach the one thing weighing heavily on her mind.

  After Aggie left, Muriel had plenty to think about. God has a plan fer ye, Aggie had insisted. But just what that plan was, Muriel had no earthly idea. However, she was now quite willing to consider the possibility that she might not be meant to live all the rest of her days alone, terrified, and consumed with guilt.

  “Rodrick, I have to ask ye a question. One that I find a bit embarrassin’.”

  Curious, he said, “Lass, ye can ask me anythin’. I will no’ make light or fun of ye.”

  He watched as she took in a breath and lowered her gaze. “If we were to marry,” she began in a soft whisper. “I do no’ ken when, or if ever, I could be a true wife to ye.”

  There was no doubt to what she was referring. Rodrick had thought about that long and hard before asking. “More than anything, I want a wife, a family,” he told her honestly. “I want to be a good husband to ye, Muriel. And a good da to yer babe. As fer the rest of it, well, that can wait until ye be ready.”

  “But what if I am never ready?” she asked.

  Then I would have failed in me duty to always make ye feel safe, protected, and important, he said to himself. ’Twas his firm belief that once she was no longer afraid or ashamed of what had happened, she would be able to come to him as his wife. “I would be willin’ to wait.”

  After a long moment, she lifted her gaze and looked him in the eye. “But what if I am never ready?”

  Rodrick could not resist smiling. “Then I would have lived a good long life, with a wife, a child to call me own, and I would die a happy man.”

  ’Twas nothing short of the truth.

  His words touched her deeply. The genuineness in them as well as his tone meant much more than she could ever put to words. It even sent a fluttering sensation through her heart. Muriel studied him closely for a long moment. “If ye be certain of that, then aye, Rodrick, I will marry ye.”

  Epilogue

  They had decided to wait and get to know one another better before exchanging those all-important vows. Neither of them wanted to make any promises they might not be able to keep.

  After months of courtship, and a few rocky moments where not a kiss or flowery word was exchanged betwixt them, Rodrick and Muriel were married on a bright. ‘Twas a crisp winter’s day, just a week before the Christmas Tide celebrations were to begin.

  The ceremony took place in front of the hearth in the Mackintosh and McLaren Keep. Evergreens and holly hung overhead as a great fire burned in the hearth. Every clansmember was in attendance, to witness Rodrick the Bold marry the lass from Edinburgh, the traitor’s sister, Muriel McFarland.

  Rodrick and Muriel each promised to honor and cherish one another, to always be honest and kind, and to take each day as a gift
.

  Rodrick promised to protect her unto his dying breath if needed.

  Muriel promised to be a good wife to him in any way she was able.

  Rodrick made a silent promise to one day bring Fergus MacDonald’s head to Muriel.

  Muriel made a silent promise to try to love this kind, honorable man, and to at least keep an open mind about someday joining with him as a true wife.

  Even if she never came to him that way, Rodrick knew he would have everything his warrior’s heart ever wanted. Everything he had wished for since he was a lad: A wife, a bairn, and a home of his very own. And a family with whom he could celebrate Christmas Tide.

  The End

  Prelude to The Highlander’s Gift

  A Stolen Bride Story

  Eliza Knight

  The Highlander’s Gift

  Sir Niall Oliphant was betrothed to the Bruce’s daughter, Princess Elizabeth, until she declares that his wound in battle has incapacitated him as a man. Because he does not wish to marry the spoiled royal, he is glad to pass her off to his brother Sir Walter. He’s more than content to fade into the background with his injuries and remain a bachelor forever. Until he is presented with an offer from the Earl of Sutherland to marry his only daughter, a lass more beautiful than any other, who makes him want to stand up and fight again.

  Bella Sutherland, daughter of one of the most powerful earls and Highland chieftains in Scotland, can marry anyone she wants—but she wants no one. When she spies the injured warrior at the Yule festival who has been shunned by the Bruce’s own daughter, she makes her choice. What is better than no husband? A husband who cannot truly be husband at all. But she won’t be satisfied with letting him languish. If there’s one thing she’s learned, its not to give up.

  With them both satisfied that they are gaining a marriage in name only, imagine their surprise when love blossoms and passion ignites?

  Dear Reader,

  I’m thrilled to be writing in the Stolen Bride series again. And even more excited to be writing Arbella and Magnus’s (The Highlander’s Reward) daughter’s story!

  My hero in this story, Sir Niall Oliphant, is the fictional son of Sir William Oliphant. His brother Walter Oliphant did marry Princess Elizabeth in real life.

  In the original Nutcracker story, there was a princess who scorned a wounded/deformed soldier as her husband, tossing him aside. This was the basis I used for my story, in this collection. You’ll find that my contribution to the collection is more of a prelude to my story, The Highlander’s Gift, which will be released in its full form in 2018.

  Best wishes and happy reading!

  Eliza

  Chapter One

  Dunrobin Castle

  Scottish Highlands

  December 1319

  Bella Sutherland, daughter of the Earl of Sutherland and Chieftain of the Sutherland Clan, had never seen the castle so filled with people. They took up every corner of the great hall, sitting on the wooden benches, and lounging against the tapestry-covered stone walls. Extra chairs and stools had been brought in, and fur rugs to line the floors. Her mother’s solar was also packed with ladies, and men covered the bailey like flies on overripe fruit.

  Invitations for the greatest Yule gathering ever to have been hosted were issued to the surrounding clans, the Sutherland allies, and King Robert Bruce himself.

  Bella’s father and mother had not expected everyone to accept their invitation, and furthermore, judging by the unseasonably warm months leading up to this point, they’d not expected a massive snowstorm to keep their guests stranded at Dunrobin Castle for the foreseeable future. Well, at least it felt that way to Bella. Interminably long.

  Two days had passed since the first horses and carts arrived, but already Bella was willing to beg her father to send everyone on their way.

  There seemed to be music and games at all hours, which interfered with her desire to remain aloof and quiet in the lady’s solar which had been outfitted with all the things she was partial to—but were now in constant use by others. Three extra hands would be required if she were to count on her fingers the number of times she’d gone to the solar to read and found that every inch of space was covered by a lady other than herself.

  It was only by chance that she’d found her bedchamber empty in order to take just the briefest repose, as with all their guests she’d been forced to share it with her two sisters. She let the fur covering over her window drop, muffling the sounds from outside.

  Was she a spoiled lass? Some may say, but she was also exceedingly kind and generous. For a woman to be as thoughtful and bighearted as Lady Bella Sutherland, than there could be no comparison to one thought overindulged.

  Bella had a tender, encouraging word for anyone who spoke to her. She helped her mother, Lady Arbella, with the household chores without balking, assisted her father in any duty he may request of her, and even helped her brothers and sisters to succeed at whatever task they struggled with—including flirting with the lassies. In addition, Bella had brought together a number of lasses and lads, as she seemed to have an eye for matchmaking, which her mother said was because she spent so much time with the minstrels and bards who passed through Sutherland. Bella copied down their stories and songs, embellishing them, creating her own tales, which she regaled the clan with daily. Every one of the legends she wove had a love story entwined, though most of them were tragic.

  And that was Bella’s, perhaps not so subtle, way of informing her parents know she was not interested in marriage. Ever. Unless, of course, it ended in her spouse succumbing to an untimely death. Aye, a tragedy to call her own.

  Until two days ago, Lord and Lady Sutherland had not pushed the idea of marriage with their eldest daughter. However, the notion had not gone unexpected by her. Especially when Bella’s older brother, Magnus, named for their father, had been betrothed last month, and even her younger brother Liam, and her two younger sisters, Greer and Blair, were hoping to soon be attached. Aye, Bella was well aware her time was coming. She was not surprised when it had come two days ago, after they’d joined as a family to break their fast. Her father informed her she must choose a husband from the crowds descending upon their castle. Her mother had not been so tame in her demand that Bella, in fact, pick one of the eligible bachelors or they would pick one for her.

  At least they were giving her a choice she tried to remind herself. But even having that choice didn’t make the task any more pleasant.

  Bella did not want to marry. At all.

  Throughout her life, she’d looked upon her parents’ marriage and knew she could never have anything so perfect. They loved each other. Appeared to still desire each other, given the looks and kisses they were not too subtle in sharing, which always brought a round of groans from their five children. Their affection was so rare; Bella couldn’t possibly hope to replicate it. And from the stories she’d heard, and a few things she’d witnessed, she didn’t think it was possible. Of course, whenever she raised these concerns, her parents brought up their various siblings and cousins who all seemed happy, but then Bella was obliged to bring up the late marriage of their oldest enemy, Ina and Marmaduke. And there was of course, Mary and Angus in the village, who were notorious for their screaming matches. Morag and his wife Fiona were forever chasing each other with some sort of sharp implement, and why, just the other day, Bella had been chasing a lad with a dirk herself when he tried to steal a kiss from her.

  Not to mention, the deepest secret she kept buried in her heart of hearts, never shared with any other. In fact, she dared not think it in case the truth of her fears were plainly seen on her face.

  Unlike most of the lassies her age—two and twenty summers—she’d never been interested in the least with kissing lads. For certes in her tales, she always talked about a great kiss between a man and a woman, but not once had she wanted to do the deed herself. Perhaps, if not for her secret, she might actually have desired it. But what was the point when a great love would never be hers?r />
  Lady Arbella, her mother, said it was because the right lad had not yet come along, but her father said he was glad for it, and to keep her lips well away from any of the mongrels that might try to paw at her. Lord and Lady Sutherland did not know her secret. And she could never tell them for fear of disappointing them greatly.

  With a begrudging sigh, Bella pushed off the comfy chair covered with thick cushions her sisters and mother had embroidered for her birthday the previous year and marched toward the door. If she was going to have to choose a husband, she might as well get it over with.

  The march down the stairs was interminably long, the sounds from the great hall deafening. None of the boisterous lads dancing around and clashing their mugs of ale would do for a husband. So outside she went, where great bonfires were lit to warm the bailey as large clumps of white snow fell. She tilted her face up, closed her eyes and let a few of the icy puffs land on her cheeks.

  ’Twas then she heard something most intriguing. An argument. A rather one-sided row. Did that still make it an argument or merely a ranting?

  Curious as always for a new angle to add to a story, Bella crept toward the wall of the keep from where the shrill voice of a young woman sounded around the corner. Her slippers crunched on the newly fallen snow, but whoever was making a ruckus did not cease their squabbling.

  “I will not have ye.” The female speaker was shrill and indignant, and there came no reply. But she must be spouting off to someone. “Ye’re not a man. I am the daughter of a king—the greatest king! And I deserve a whole man.”

  Daughter of the king? Only one royal offspring was in attendance—Princess Elizabeth.

  A whole man? What ever could that mean?

  Bella’s curiosity exploded. Pressing her hands to the cold stone for balance, she peered just slightly around the corner of the keep to see Princess Elizabeth, hands on her hips giving quite the dressing down to a rather handsome warrior. The princess’s elegant fur-lined cloak was pulled up over her hair, but her face was plain to see. The warrior leaned up against the wall, his great plaid slung over his shoulders. He looked whole enough to Bella. And much too handsome for his own good, despite the bored expression on his striking visage.