All Things Merry and Bright: A Very Special Christmas Tale Collection
Page 9
Next came Liana. She said exuberantly, and with great flourish, “I—” Her gaze moved to Elspeth. “I am eternally grateful for my sweet new sister. How very dreary this family has been till your arrival.”
Alex shouted, “Pòg mo thòin!” Kiss my arse!
Everyone laughed.
Next came Glenna. Her gaze narrowed on Alex as she said, “I am most thankful to know where my salt went. I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug!” I’ll give you a slap on the ear.
Alex fidgeted, and his gaze moved to Elspeth. It was her turn now, and she took the bread from Glenna, holding it aloft as the others had, feeling all eyes on her, and wishing she had more eloquent words to speak. “I…” She looked at her husband, and his gaze immediately settled her nerves. She inhaled, then said in a rush, “I am most grateful for my champion, who saved me…” Her voice faltered, because, she was still too emotional over the events of the past year. Furthermore, it was difficult to be so pleased over her own circumstances when she knew her sisters were still in danger. “Well, I am thankful for everyone.” She shrugged, finishing with a hand to her belly, “Especially our babe. I love you, Malcom,” she said, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “And, if my husband will allow it, I should be pleased to bear him into the world in a place so fine, with a family such as you.”
All eyes were shining by the time she was through, including the MacKinnon’s. She took a bite of the bread, dreading the salty taste of it, but surprised and relieved to find it sweet. She gave Glenna a surprised glance, and the old woman winked as she passed the Yule bread along. So then, it was a spell she had cast in the kitchen. Ut dulce sit, she’d said. Make it sweet.
Next came Cora, and the maid said, “I’m thankful to my Lord Aldergh for allowing me to join him and my lady on this journey. “Here’s hoping my Alwin willna be weeping ’cause I’m gone.” She took a great-big tear out of the bread, and passed it along.
Next came Malcom. And his gaze lit upon his wife, lowering to her belly, and then very affectionately moving to his mother, and to his father. “I am thankful for the bounty that is my life,” he said, looking straight at his father. “I will be pleased to stay until after Candlemas, and I, too, will cherish the memory of my old mon with a babe in his arms.” He took a hearty bite, then grinned, and handed the loaf down to his little brother.
“Here, here!” everyone shouted. “Here, here!”
Finally, at long last, it was Alex’s turn, and he looked, for a moment as though he would toss the wreath into the bonfire and flee. His gaze sought out his mother’s; she gave him a nod. His gaze sought his father’s; the MacKinnon arched a dark brow in warning. Then, his gaze sought Elspeth’s, and he began, “I-I am… grateful… to…” His gaze sought Glenna’s, and the old woman shook her head. “Well…” He fidgeted. “Mayhap I’m verra grateful because… now…” He grinned. “There’ll be a younger MacKinnon than me, and here’s hoping he ain’t a lass!”
Everyone laughed.
“I’m not done,” complained Alex. And he said, “But mostly, I am grateful for my new sword…” He peered up at Malcom, smiling. “And my brother.” Then, he, too, ripped into the Yule bread, and with the bread firmly in his hands, he ran into the circle and did a happy dance. Everyone clapped joyfully, and the MacKinnon shouted:
Here’s tae the heath, the hill and the heather,
The bonnet, the plaid, the kilt and the feather!
The End
Happy Yule, everyone! My love to you, and long may your lum reek (may you never be without fuel for your fire). Turn the page for a Yuletide recipe for sun bread.
Yule Bread Recipe
2 tbs honey
2 1/4 tsp dry yeast
1 cup warm water
1 tsp water
1 egg
2 1/3 cups flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 teaspoon caraway seeds.
Cooking spray
Preparation
In a large bowl, dissolve honey and yeast in one cup warm water; let stand about five minutes. Combine one teaspoon water with the egg, and whisk. Place one tablespoon of the egg mixture in a small bowl. Cover and chill. Add remaining egg mixture to yeast mixture.
Add 2 cups all-purpose flour, 1 cup of whole wheat flour, salt, 1 teaspoon caraway seeds to yeast mixture; stir to form a soft dough. Turn dough on a floured surface, kneading until smooth and elastic (about 10 minutes). Add enough of remaining all-purpose flour, 1 tablespoon at a time, to prevent dough from sticking to hands.
Place the dough in a large bowl coated with cooking spray, turning to coat top. Cover and let rise in a warm place (68 degrees), about forty-five minutes or until doubled in size. (Press two fingers into dough. If indentation remains, dough has risen enough.) Punch the dough down; cover and let rest for about five minutes. Divide dough into three equal size shares. Working with one portion at a time, roll each portion into a 12-inch rope on a lightly floured surface. Plait ropes together, and pinch ends to seal in a circle.
Place dough into an 8-inch loaf pan coated with cooking spray. Cover and let rise for 30 minutes or until doubled in size.
Baking
When ready, preheat the oven to 375°f.
Uncover dough. Brush reserved egg mixture over loaf, and sprinkle with remaining caraway seeds. Bake at 375° f for 30 minutes or until loaf is browned on bottom and sounds hollow when tapped. Remove from pan; cool on a wire rack.
About the Author
Tanya Anne Crosby is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty novels. She has been featured in magazines, such as People, Romantic Times and Publisher’s Weekly, and her books have been translated into eight languages. Her first novel was published in 1992 by Avon Books, where Tanya was hailed as “one of Avon’s fastest rising stars.” Her fourth book was chosen to launch the company’s Avon Romantic Treasure imprint.
Known for stories charged with emotion and humor and filled with flawed characters Tanya is an award-winning author, journalist, and editor, and her novels have garnered reader praise and glowing critical reviews. She and her writer husband split their time between Charleston, SC, where she was raised, and northern Michigan, where the couple make their home.
For more information
Website
Email
Newsletter
Want to stay in the know?
Sign up to be the FIRST to learn about new releases. Plus get newsletter only bonus content for FREE.
Click here to sign up.
A Dukes of War Christmas
Erica Ridley
Other Books by Erica Ridley
In order, the 12 Dukes of Christmas:
Once Upon a Duke
Kiss of a Duke
Wish Upon a Duke
Never Say Duke
In order, the Rogues to Riches books are:
Lord of Chance
Lord of Pleasure
Lord of Night
Lord of Temptation
Lord of Secrets
Lord of Vice
In order, the Dukes of War books are:
The Viscount’s Christmas Temptation (FREE!)
The Earl’s Defiant Wallflower
The Captain’s Bluestocking Mistress
The Major’s Faux Fiancée
The Brigadier’s Runaway Bride
The Pirate’s Tempting Stowaway
The Duke’s Accidental Wife
Author’s Note
New to the Dukes of War? Please note that the following holiday story inherently contains spoilers for previous books in the series, as it takes place after those events.
Grab a FREE copy of The Viscount’s Christmas Temptation, the first romance in the series, at your favorite ebook vendor!
Long-time friends: Thank you so much for joining me on this adventure! I have had such a blast helping the Dukes of War overcome adversity (and sometimes themselves!) on their journeys to love. So much has changed in their lives, and yet one thing remain
s constant: their friendship.
It has been so much fun to join up with them again to share one more holiday together. I hope you love being a part of their circle as much as I do.
To all readers: Join the VIP list at ridley.vip for a free book, plus a first look at what’s coming next, as well as giveaways and prizes throughout the year!
If you have Facebook, the Dukes of War reader group can be found at: facebook.com/groups/DukesOfWar
Happy reading!!
xoxo,
Erica
A Dukes of War Christmas
24 December, 1820
Ravenwood House
London, England
THE DUKE OF Ravenwood strode into the entryway of his sprawling London residence to discover his wife waiting for him just inside the door.
“This flower reminds me of you.” He handed her a perfect rose he’d plucked from his greenhouse.
Eyes twinkling, Kate pointed at a spot above his head. “And this reminds me of you.”
Ravenwood glanced up to discover himself standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe. He wasted no time in slanting his mouth over hers for a kiss. In fact… by his calculation, at least half an hour remained before their friends began arriving for the Christmas Eve celebrations. If they were swift, surely there was enough time to—
“I know what you’re thinking,” Kate warned him, as she broke the kiss with a laugh.
He affected an angelic expression. “How could you possibly know?”
“Because I’m thinking the same thing.” She pressed her lips to the edge of his jaw and murmured, “Tonight. After the party.”
“Parties,” he corrected with a groan. “Remind me why I agreed to this?”
“Because you love your friends as much as you adore your sister.” She beckoned him into the front parlor, where they would soon be placing a yew tree.
He followed her into the parlor. Instead of sitting opposite her at the front bay window, he arranged himself to one side so that she could lean back against his chest as they waited for their friends.
“Are you certain this is respectable behavior, Your Grace?” she asked him with pretend shock.
He nuzzled her neck. “It’s our house. We don’t have to be respectable.”
“Thank heavens.” Kate snuggled into him. “How is your sister?”
“Unflappable,” he replied without hesitation. “Their soirée isn’t until this evening, but I’ll wager she’s already in the ballroom managing every last detail.”
“I’ll take that wager,” Kate said with a laugh. “Knowing Lady Amelia, she’ll have planned everything so well that there will be nothing left to supervise.”
Five years ago, Ravenwood’s sister had married Lord Sheffield, whose family had a long tradition of hosting extravagant Yuletide celebrations. For many, it was the fête of the Season, and absolutely not to be missed.
“Tonight is the eightieth annual Sheffield Christmas Eve ball,” he reminded his wife. “Amelia will definitely be overseeing every aspect.”
Indeed, the famous soirée was the reason all of their friends were taking a holiday in London. Ravenwood normally did his best to avoid Society crushes, but even he could not pass up an opportunity to see all of his old friends at one time.
As children, they had been inseparable. The lads had all gone to Eton together, and then Oxford. The girls stayed home to learn how to be ladies, but as soon as they were all old enough to enjoy a London Season, they’d fit together again as if no time had passed at all.
Until all the men but Ravenwood sailed off to fight Bonaparte.
“Are you thinking about the war again?” Kate murmured. “It’s Christmastide. The war is over. All of your friends are safe.”
Even after four-and-a-half years of marriage, his beautiful wife still surprised him with how perceptive she was.
“I know,” he said.
He supposed he was “lucky” that unexpectedly inheriting a dukedom had kept him from joining the military with the others.
They, too, were lucky. They’d come home. Scarred, perhaps, in ways both visible and invisible, but even the ravages of war had not stopped them from finding happiness and true love.
War had not won. Love was too powerful.
He held his wife a little tighter. “Happy Christmas, my love.”
“Not yet,” she teased him. “We can exchange Christmas wishes at midnight, once we’ve decorated the tree and successfully arrived at your sister’s ball.”
“Don’t let Sheffield hear you calling it Amelia’s ball,” he warned her with a laugh. “It’s his family’s tradition.”
“She’s a Sheffield now,” Kate protested. “And, I suspect, the primary reason the tradition has continued so brilliantly.”
“We should have had Amelia arrange our party, too. Where on earth are those footmen?” Ravenwood glanced over his shoulder at the empty place of honor across the parlor. “Our guests may find it difficult to decorate a tree that doesn’t exist.”
“It will be fine,” she assured him. “Probably fine. They have been gone a long time.”
“How reassuring,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“At least we have the Yule log,” Kate said brightly. “If all else fails…”
He burst out laughing. “We are not decorating a burning log with candles.”
“Because of the mess?”
“Because my sister would never let me live it down,” he admitted. “Besides, how will the Yule log smolder until Twelfth Night if it’s covered in wax?”
“Be honest,” she prodded him. “You want tonight to be perfect because you’re hoping it will become the First Annual Ravenwood Tree Party.”
He grinned, rather than respond. His wife already knew she was right.
As wonderful as it was that he and his friends had found love and settled down, Ravenwood could not help but miss them. Although he would never admit it aloud, he happened to think an annual Tree Party a splendid idea. It would be like picking up where they had left off.
When the friends were younger, they had gathered every year at Christmastide. As neighbors, it had been nothing but a short walk from one house to the next. The tradition had ceased when most of the group left for battle. Now that the war was over, perhaps it was the perfect time to start a new tradition.
Kate shot upright. “Someone’s here.”
Ravenwood’s heart thumped faster at the telltale sound of carriage wheels on the street outside. First a team of matched greys, then a gleaming black coach, came into view.
“Oliver and Grace!” they said in unison at the sight of the Earl of Carlisle’s family crest upon the carriage.
“Should we let the butler answer the door?” he asked.
“Absolutely not.” Her eyes sparkled. “We have to make certain every guest respects the bough of mistletoe above the door.”
“As you wish.” He helped his wife from the window seat and offered her his elbow. “To the mistletoe.”
“We should test it again, too,” Kate whispered. “To make sure it’s still working.”
Ravenwood’s lips quirked. His wife always did have the best ideas.
Five minutes later, they opened the door flushed with color and displaying a remarkable shortness of breath.
The Carlisles met them with warm greetings, each carrying a white candle in their hands.
“I can’t wait to decorate the tree,” Grace exclaimed in her charming American accent. “I hadn’t heard of the custom until I came to England. News of Queen Charlotte’s Christmastide habits didn’t make it to my small town.”
“You’ll have to wait at least one moment,” Kate said mischievously, and pointed above their heads.
The Carlisles glanced up, grinned at each other, and immediately busied themselves with a kiss.
“Now may we see the tree?” Grace asked when she came up for air.
“It’ll be here soon,” Kate promised. “Let the footmen take your outer
garments, and let’s head to the parlor. I’ll show you where we plan to place it.”
“Where are Lord David and Lady Abigail?” Oliver asked, glancing about.
“In the nursery,” Ravenwood answered. “You can drop in to see them, but it’s best not to let those two get too close to candles.”
“Or to cups of tea,” Kate added. “Or rocks. Or grass. Or marmalade.”
“Someday you’ll find out,” Ravenwood promised Oliver, with a tone of dire warning. “Hide everything you don’t wish to be chewed, thrown, or slobbered upon.”
As she settled their guests in the parlor, Kate turned to Grace. “Did your mother receive our invitation?”
“I’m afraid not,” Grace said. “She and Captain Blackheart are off on another adventure.”
Oliver slanted her a look. “Please use his Christian name.”
“His pirate name is more romantic,” Grace protested.
“‘Captain Blackheart’ sounds romantic?” Ravenwood said doubtfully.
“See?” Oliver grinned. “I’m not the only one.”
“Men,” Kate stage-whispered to Grace in mock disgust. “Now tell me. Where are the romantic duo off to?”
“I’m not certain,” Grace admitted. “All Mother said was that a Royal Navy captain has positively identified Antarctica as a land mass. And then they were off.”
“To Antarctica?” Ravenwood said in disbelief.
“Probably not,” Grace admitted. “Adventure tends to find them before they get very far.”
“They’re probably swashbuckling in a Caribbean cave somewhere,” Oliver agreed. “Old habits, and all.”
More carriage wheels sounded from outside.
Ravenwood and Kate sprang up from their seats. So did the Carlisles.
“At ease,” Ravenwood said. “We’ll be right back.”