O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Malcolm motioned for a stable lad to come closer. “See about his horse. Ensure the animal is brushed, fed and watered. Allow him in the warmest stall.”

  “Ye will have to remain the night,” Malcolm said. “Unless ye wish to take another horse, which ye are welcome to.”

  Naill considered it. “I will wait and leave first thing in the morning.”

  “Moira will be glad to see ye,” the laird said, referring to the cook, as they walked into the house.

  Naill could barely wait to eat. The fare at Dun Airgid was the best in the region thanks to Moira’s amazing cooking.

  Once he entered the main house, Naill was able to release a breath. He went to one of the huge hearths and stood before it so that the warmth would seep into his body slowly. Standing too close to the fire would be painful, so along with several others, they stood where the warmth was barely felt. They would move closer and closer once they became adjusted.

  Malcolm’s wife, Elspeth, hurried to where he stood. “Naill, it is so nice to see ye have returned. I know Bree will be glad for yer return.” Her eyes sparkled with warmth and she looked to the fire. “It has been hard for yer wee ones for ye to be gone so long.”

  He’d volunteered and now wondered if it had not been fair to the children. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, just yer son, Cairon, is often wandering about attempting to teach himself to shoot with a bow and arrow. Bree brought him here so that he could spend time with the archers. She was worried about him getting into trouble.”

  So that was how he and Craig had become friends. He listened as Elspeth told him about a small competition they’d held for young boys. With every recount of how Cairon had done, he became more anxious to see his son.

  Just then, a young guard appeared. “Our laird would like to see ye in his study.”

  It would be several hours before he would be released. By then, it would be time for last meal and some much-needed rest.

  Chapter Two

  “I am surprised to see ye up so early,” the miller’s wife exclaimed with a knowing wink. “One would think the last thing on yer mind would be baking today.”

  Perplexed, Bree Hay waited for the woman to weigh and place the flour into her wooden bowl. “Where else would I be, Maise?”

  The woman’s eyes rounded and her lips pressed together. “The men returned from the northern border yesterday eve. Was Naill not with them?”

  Her stomach tightened and she fought not to show any emotion. Despite the sudden urge to cry, she let out a fortifying breath. “He did not return to our home as yet. Perhaps he remained behind. I am sure news will be brought to me soon by one of the guards.”

  Upon accepting the bowl overfilled with flour, her hands shook. Maise pretended not to notice and, for it, Bree was glad.

  “Mama, what did the lady say about Da?” her youngest child, four-year-old Millie, skipped beside her. “Is he back?” Her happy expression made Bree’s heart squeeze.

  “I do not know wee one. Let us stop and ask.”

  They went to where a young guard named Bruce lived. Upon seeing him, Bree’s heart raced. Could it be something bad had happened to her husband?

  “Up early and ready for the day, I see,” Bruce said by way of greeting. He raced to a delighted Millie, lifted her up and turned in a circle. The little girl laughed happily, her cheeks already reddened by the cold air turning even brighter.

  “Again. Again,” she cried out, jumping from one foot to the other.

  Bruce met Bree’s gaze. “He shall be home any moment now. He had to go report to the laird last night.” He picked up Millie and, once again, turned while holding her up so that she looked to be flying.

  “Why did he not allow someone else to report in his stead?” Bree was well aware that married guards often asked a single one to report for them. Most married men were anxious to see their families and be home.

  Bruce’s face flushed and he looked away. “I do not know.”

  “I suppose ye do not.” She balanced the bowl with her left hand and grabbed Millie’s with the other. “Come along, dear. We have much to do.”

  Her heart thundered with anger, but she had to maintain calm for her daughter’s sake. If it was not for her children, she would throw every one of Naill’s belongings out into the snow and bolt the door shut.

  When she entered the small cottage and attempted to close the door, it would not remain shut. It had been broken for weeks, but she’d been too proud to ask someone to fix it, especially as there was no way to pay. Again, she pushed with all her might and latched it. Usually it took both she and Cairon together to get it closed. It was becoming a bother. At least that was something Naill could fix, if he deemed it important enough.

  As the hours passed, she became too furious to remain indoors. After warming goat’s milk for Millie, Bree then went outside to chop wood. They were short on supply and although Cairon did his best, at ten years old, he could barely lift the ax. Without knowing if her husband would indeed return this day, it was best to be prepared and chop wood that would last for at least another two days.

  It was a long time later, her hands aching and her back sore, that she finally finished. As she began to load wood into the wheelbarrow, a horseman approached.

  Immediately, she knew who it was. Her husband dismounted, pulled the horse behind him and then tethered it to a gate.

  He’d not been in a hurry to leave the keep as it was late morning by then. He gave her a once over, his gaze neither warm nor cold. She would describe it as indifferent. “Why are ye chopping wood? Ye should have hired someone to do it.”

  Instead of a reply, she lifted two more blocks and placed them onto the wheelbarrow.

  “Bree, I am speaking to ye,” Naill said and moved to stand between her and the wood she’d chopped.

  “I have not had any coin since ye left. I went to the keep asking for money, but they informed me ye did not leave instructions. The laird felt bad and gave me a few coins and some food. There has been barely enough to eat. For the last few weeks, we’ve only been eating eggs and drinking the goat’s milk.”

  He was struck silent. “I did not think.”

  “Aye, I know. Why would ye think about us, yer wife and children?” Too angry to continue the conversation, she rounded him and stalked into the house. When the door stuck, refusing to close, she kicked it hard.

  Moments later, Naill entered.

  “Da!” Millie exclaimed and ran to him. Naill hugged his daughter close, kissed her cheeks and tickled the little one until she began to hiccup. Moments later, Cairon rushed in through the doorway and stopped to stare at his father. Much shyer than his sister, he waited for Naill come near before hugging his father.

  Bree turned away. She broke four eggs into the flour on the table and began making dough for bread. They would have bread, butter and eggs for the meal.

  Cairon held out a couple of coins to Bree. “I got paid today.” He puffed out his chest and looked to Naill. “I help out at the mill, Da. They pay me with flour for bread and a couple coins.”

  Naill looked to Bree. She ignored him. They’d made do without him, there was no need to make him feel better about a situation he’d put them in.

  “I will go get meat from the butcher. Is there anything else ye require?” he asked her in a low voice.

  “No, we do not need anything.” Bree rolled the dough into a small ball and plopped it into a bowl. Soon, she’d bake it and then beat eggs.

  While she continued to cook, Naill sat in a chair with a child on each leg and recounted stories of his time away. The man had always been able to spin the most boring of stories so that it seemed as if he lived the most wondrous of adventures.

  It broke her heart to see how easily their children forgave his long absence, too innocent to know he’d preferred to spend the first night back away from them.

  “Millie, Cairon, time to eat. Wash up.”

  Obediently, the children went to a basin that
she’d filled with warmed water and washed their faces and hands.

  She placed a bowl with beaten eggs, a chunk of bread and fresh butter in front of each of her family members. Having run out of eggs, she only had bread and butter left for herself.

  Naill stared at his bowl for a long time. “How long has this been all ye’ve eaten?”

  “Every day for a long time,” Cairon grumbled good-naturedly. “But I love eggs,” he added, smiling at his mother.

  Bree smiled back. “Aye, ye do.”

  “Why did ye not…” Naill started, but she shook her head to quiet him.

  They continued eating in silence. Naill traded bowls with her, but she was much too upset to eat. Instead, she nibbled at her bread that tasted like dirt in her dry mouth.

  When the meal was finished, the children demanded Naill tell them more stories. They were desperate for their father’s attention, so Bree did not interfere to let them know it was well past time for them to go to bed. First, little Millie and then, finally, Cairon fell asleep while listening to Naill’s tales.

  Naill carried one child and then the other to their beds and then sat at the table where Bree had remained. There had been no money for oil, so she sewed by candlelight.

  “Forgive me for not ensuring ye and the children had enough food and…” he said, stopping to study the candle. “Are ye out of oil as well?”

  “I am out of everything, Naill,” Bree said, knowing he understood the full meaning of her statement. “I trust the meal at the keep last night was quite filling.”

  “Ye could have gone to eat there. They always welcome…”

  “I am not a beggar,” she interrupted. “We’ve gone when invited, but we did not remain more than one day.”

  He studied her for a long time. “I apologize. In the future, I will ensure ye have enough.”

  Of course, he would. If nothing else, he was a man of his word. It was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love and married him.

  With light brown hair and beautiful green eyes, he remained as handsome as when they’d first met over twelve years earlier. He was tall and built like a warrior and extremely serious. Although he’d been softer when they were younger, Naill often made her laugh by joking in a way that made her insides melt.

  Now, she felt more contempt for her husband than caring. It was hard to tell exactly what she felt. Perhaps a mixture of hurt and resentment that he’d leave them in such dire circumstances.

  Just then, the door flew open. Before he could react, she grabbed a chair and dragged it to the door. Then she shoved it closed and placed the chair against it.

  They did not speak for the rest of the evening. As she continued mending, he worked on the door, managing to fix it without making too much noise and wake the children.

  “I will replace it in the morning.”

  He poured water from the kettle over the fire into the basin and then removed his clothing. Despite her anger, she could not help but admire his physique. His body was toned. Familiar scars from battle took her attention for a moment.

  When he turned to look at her, she rose from the table and went to bed. A part of her considered finding another place to sleep. However, she was a private person and would never give the villagers anything to gossip about.

  Although people had to have known about their situation, it was not spoken about. Everyone respected Naill and had a hard time believing he would leave them without resources on purpose.

  When her husband slipped into the bed, Bree wished it was larger and she could lay without touching him. He climbed over her, pulling her night gown up so he could settle between her legs.

  Her body reacted when his callused hands slid up and down her sides, his mouth taking hers.

  They made love in silence, a physical connection that, for her, felt empty. They did not speak, the only noises were the sounds of their breathing, flesh against flesh and, every so often, a moan. Each motion and caress was a double-edged sword.

  As he moved faster, each thrust bringing them closer to completion, her body reacted, a soft release that brought satisfaction instead of excitement. Within moments, Naill shuddered, his crest seeming harder.

  Their harsh breaths intermingled. Naill attempted to kiss her again. But unsure how she truly felt at this moment, she turned her head away.

  Naill and Cairon rode to Ross Keep the next afternoon. He’d tried without success to convince Bree to accompany him to the first Yuletide celebration. When she’d resisted, he’d gone to the merchant’s shop and purchased enough foodstuffs to ensure she could cook anything she desired. He’d then gone to the butcher and also purchased enough meat for plentiful meals.

  Upon finding Cairon on his way to work at the mill, he’d stopped his young son. “Come to the keep with me. Ye do not have to work today.”

  His obviously delighted son had raced into the house to fetch his bow and arrow. “I can see Craig,” he’d informed Naill, who decided not to comment.

  The festival was in full swing. Many villagers were at the keep. Musicians went from one bonfire to the next, playing lively music for the people who shared food and drink that had been prepared by clan’s women.

  Boars had been slaughtered and now turned over a spit, the juicy meat enough for everyone to have their fill.

  Even the guards who walked atop the walls were in good spirits, calling down to people who enjoyed the events. Several groups of women danced while others were content to drink ale and talk.

  Upon dismounting, Cairon asked if he could go in search of Craig.

  “Aye, but ensure to remain where I can see ye.” Naill frowned as the boy hurried to a group of archers standing around a bonfire. He led his horse to the stables and left it in the care of the lads. Then he walked to where his son and the archers were.

  Craig was shorter and a bit younger than him. The man had a gruff manner about him but smiled as he listened to Cairon. When his gaze landed on Naill, his expression turned hard. Obviously, the man did not have a good opinion of him. Either that, or he had become accustomed to the idea he was gone and his family was ripe for the picking.

  “Ye did not expect to see me?” Naill asked.

  Craig gave him a flat look. “I saw ye yesterday. Ye were here for last meal and stayed the night.”

  “I did not know I was being watched so closely.”

  “Da, do ye wish to see me shoot?” Cairon interrupted, not at all noticing that the men were not exactly exchanging pleasantries.

  He looked at his son’s bright face. “Aye, I would.”

  Cairon turned to Craig. “Ye should come as well. Da can see how much ye taught me.”

  “Perhaps Craig should seek his own family,” Naill said. “Come, Cairon, the sun is setting. We must hurry.” As he walked toward his son, he purposely bumped against Craig. It only served to annoy him since the man chuckled under his breath.

  Last meal was once again above reproach. Since he was part of the main guard unit, he and Cairon were able to eat inside the great room.

  The boy sat next to him, his thin body against Naill as if he were afraid his father would disappear at any moment.

  When two boys came to ask Cairon to come with them to the courtyard, his son looked to him as if he were not sure whether to go or not.

  “Go on, Son. I will come fetch ye in a bit so we can return home.”

  Only then did Cairon relax and run out to catch up with the boys.

  “Tis nice to see ye with yer son,” Tristan, the laird’s brother, said as he lowered to the bench next to Naill. “It has been nice to see him here regularly. He is growing quite fast, is he not?”

  “Aye, I was surprised to see him. I almost did not recognize him,” Naill replied. “It seems Craig has taken to teaching him archery. I am impressed at his skill.”

  “Aye, yer wife brought him here after he got into a bit of trouble at the village.”

  Once again, someone mentioned his son getting into trouble. “What kind of trouble?”r />
  Tristan shrugged. “Ye know the usual things boys try to get away with. He was stealing fruit from the merchant, so they brought him to Bree. She is a good mother, had him work at the merchant’s shop until Fergus considered he’d been paid in full. Then she brought him up here to Craig to teach him a skill.”

  Naill’s stomach sank. Had his son been stealing to feed his mother and sister? Guilt assaulted him until Craig walked into the room and sat at a nearby table. If the man and his wife had been intimate, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

  “I was not aware Bree and Craig knew each other. She’s never mentioned him.”

  Tristan was distracted as people began dancing and his wife was in the center. “Oh, aye, I do not know. You will have to ask him.” Tristan stood and went to sit closer to watch the dancing.

  With her arms over her head, Tristan’s wife, Merida, danced for him, a wide smile on her lips. Next to her were several other women who were obviously performing for their husbands. The men who were not married looked on with a mixture of envy and warmth.

  Just then, Moira, the cook, walked past his table and he decided he’d had enough of watching the dance.

  He followed the cook into the kitchen. Moira was a kind woman and mother to Ian, one of the head guards. It was well known that Moira was the best cook in the region and the best advisor.

  Upon his entering, her keen gaze pinned him. “For someone just returned, ye do not look at all joyful. It is Yule, ye know.”

  “I had hoped Bree would accompany me, but she refused. She barely speaks to me,” he grumbled. “Has she spoken to ye?”

  Moira motioned to a chair. Once he sat, she lowered across from him. “Bree is a brave, strong woman. But no matter how hard a woman tries to do for herself, it is a hard world. Ye should have provided better for her and yer bairns.”

  “I did not know she would not receive coin.” He knew the excuse was feeble. It was up to him to leave enough money for her to provide for the family. He’d given little thought to it before leaving.