A de Russe Christmas Miracle
A Medieval Romance
By Kathryn Le Veque
© Copyright 2018 by Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
Kindle Edition
Text by Kathryn Le Veque
Edited by Scott Moreland
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All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Kathryn Le Veque Novels
Medieval Romance:
De Wolfe Pack Series:
Warwolfe
The Wolfe
Nighthawk
ShadowWolfe
DarkWolfe
A Joyous de Wolfe Christmas
Serpent
A Wolfe Among Dragons
Scorpion
Dark Destroyer
The Lion of the North
Walls of Babylon
The de Russe Legacy:
The Falls of Erith
Lord of War: Black Angel
The Iron Knight
Beast
The Dark One: Dark Knight
The White Lord of Wellesbourne
Dark Moon
Dark Steel
The de Lohr Dynasty:
While Angels Slept
Rise of the Defender
Steelheart
Shadowmoor
Silversword
Spectre of the Sword
Unending Love
Archangel
Lords of East Anglia:
While Angels Slept
Godspeed
Great Lords of le Bec:
Great Protector
House of de Royans:
Lord of Winter
To the Lady Born
Lords of Eire:
Echoes of Ancient Dreams
Blacksword
The Darkland
Ancient Kings of Anglecynn:
The Whispering Night
Netherworld
Battle Lords of de Velt:
The Dark Lord
Devil’s Dominion
Bay of Fear
Reign of the House of de Winter:
Lespada
Swords and Shields
De Reyne Domination:
Guardian of Darkness
With Dreams
The Fallen One
House of d’Vant:
Tender is the Knight (House of d’Vant)
The Red Fury (House of d’Vant)
The Dragonblade Series:
Fragments of Grace
Dragonblade
Island of Glass
The Savage Curtain
The Fallen One
Great Marcher Lords of de Lara
Lord of the Shadows
Dragonblade
House of St. Hever
Fragments of Grace
Island of Glass
Queen of Lost Stars
Lords of Pembury:
The Savage Curtain
Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood Trilogy
The Thunder Lord
The Thunder Warrior
The Thunder Knight
The Great Knights of de Moray:
Shield of Kronos
The Gorgon
The House of De Nerra:
The Falls of Erith
Vestiges of Valor
Realm of Angels
Highland Warriors of Munro:
The Red Lion
Deep Into Darkness
The House of de Garr:
Lord of Light
Realm of Angels
Saxon Lords of Hage:
The Crusader
Kingdom Come
High Warriors of Rohan:
High Warrior
The House of Ashbourne:
Upon a Midnight Dream
The House of D’Aurilliac:
Valiant Chaos
The House of De Dere:
Of Love and Legend
St. John and de Gare Clans:
The Warrior Poet
The House of de Bretagne:
The Questing
The House of Summerlin:
The Legend
The Kingdom of Hendocia:
Kingdom by the Sea
Contemporary Romance:
Kathlyn Trent/Marcus Burton Series:
Valley of the Shadow
The Eden Factor
Canyon of the Sphinx
The American Heroes Anthology Series:
The Lucius Robe
Fires of Autumn
Evenshade
Sea of Dreams
Purgatory
Other non-connected Contemporary Romance:
Lady of Heaven
Darkling, I Listen
In the Dreaming Hour
River’s End
The Fountain
Sons of Poseidon:
The Immortal Sea
Pirates of Britannia Series (with Eliza Knight):
Savage of the Sea by Eliza Knight
Leader of Titans by Kathryn Le Veque
The Sea Devil by Eliza Knight
Sea Wolfe by Kathryn Le Veque
Note: All Kathryn’s novels are designed to be read as stand-alones, although many have cross-over characters or cross-over family groups. Novels that are grouped together have related characters or family groups. You will notice that some series have the same books; that is because they are cross-overs. A hero in one book may be the secondary character in another.
There is NO reading order except by chronology, but even in that case, you can still read the books as stand-alones. No novel is connected to another by a cliff hanger, and every book has an HEA.
Series are clearly marked. All series contain the same characters or family groups except the American Heroes Series, which is an anthology with unrelated characters.
For more information, find it in A Reader’s Guide to the Medieval World of Le Veque.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Kathryn Le Veque Novels
Author’s Note
Part One: A Bright and Shining Star
Part Two: Home
Part Three: The Stranger
Part Four: The Best Christmas of All
The de Russe Legacy
About Kathryn Le Veque
Author’s Note
I have such fun writing these little holiday stories! It’s so much fun to bring together some of my favorite families, seeing them all in one place, interacting. This particular tale is meant as an extended epilogue to DARK MOON and DARK STEEL, set in the year following Dane and Grier’s story in DARK STEEL. You don’t have to read those two stories to know what’s going on, but it would help orient the reader.
Much like “A Joyous de Wolfe Christmas”, this story is mea
nt as a focus on one particularly thing – in this case, the illness of Gaston de Russe (THE DARK ONE: DARK KNIGHT). Gaston’s illness was introduced in DARK MOON, and elaborated on in DARK STEEL, so now we have it as the focus of the story. As much as I hate to see my heroes and heroines get old, the truth is that they do, and especially if I’m writing about the children and grandchildren of original heroes and heroines. That’s a fact of life. But I promise I will never actually write their death scenes – that’s something I can’t bring myself to do.
Something fun to note – there is another Father de Tormo in this tale, the younger brother of Father de Tormo from THE DARK ONE: DARK KNIGHT. Interestingly enough, I never gave the original Father a first name in the book – and I had to go back into my VERY old notes to find it. So, the Father de Tormo in this tale is a brother, and it was fun to bring the de Tormo name back into a de Russe story.
I don’t normally write religious-themed stories, and I don’t consider this one, but I do consider it a story of faith. Faith in love, faith in family, and faith in a higher power. It brings about the question – are there miracles? Or can everything be scientifically explained away? That’s something Dane and Trenton and Remington have to figure out for themselves.
You be the judge.
Love,
Part One:
A Bright and Shining Star
Wiltshire
December, Year of Our Lord 1520
It was bright enough, with a winter-white landscape spread out before them like the frosting on a sweetcake. White as far as the eye could see, but in the sky above, the blue was the most vibrant of blues. It was the holiday season, and Dane de Russe, Duke of Shrewsbury, and his lady wife, Grier, were traveling south to Deverill Castle to celebrate the season with Dane’s family.
The seat of the Duke of Warminster, Gaston de Russe, was a vast complex of buildings, men, and animals, and even now, Dane knew it was stuffed to the gills with his brothers, sisters, and their families. All told, there were more than two dozen of them, as he’d been trying to tell his wife on the ride south.
Grier was bundled up against the cold, wrapped heavily in furs and wool, and her beautiful face was pinched red from the cold. But she was radiant, happier than Dane had ever seen her. She had been talking up a storm for most of the trip, too, which had taken seven days so far because Dane had wanted to take it slow. He didn’t want his pregnant wife jostled around, but Grier was made of iron. Nothing bothered her, and she didn’t care if the road was muddy or icy and they were forced to take a precious hour to go around it.
She was joy personified.
“Tell me again,” she said, her head sticking out of the heavy carriage she was riding in as Dane rode alongside on his big-boned rouncey. “Your eldest sisters and their families?”
Dane signed heavily, an exaggerated gesture. “Again?”
“Again.”
“But I told you not two hours ago,” he pointed out. “I swear, you do not remember anything I tell you these days.”
She grinned and sat back in the cab, her hand on her belly. At six months along, she was healthy and rosy. “This child sucks all of the thoughts straight out of my head,” she said. “I cannot remember anything that anyone has told me, so do not feel as if you are special in that regard.”
He cocked a droll eyebrow at her. “One more time,” he said. “If you do not remember this time, then I shall not tell you again and you can fumble your way through your first conversation with my family and look like an idiot. Everyone will say what a beautiful dolt I have married.”
She giggled. “I will remember. Go on.”
He growled again, which just made her giggle more. “My brother, Trenton, is married to Lysabel Wellesbourne,” he said. “You already know that.”
“I do.”
“You know that Lysabel has two daughters from her first marriage, and she gave birth to my brother’s firstborn son during the summer.”
“Aye, I remember. His name is Rafael.”
“Correct,” Dane said. “My sisters, Adeliza and Arica, are twins, and Adeliza is married to Gaspard de Ryes, a knight in the service of King Henry. I cannot imagine Gaspard will be at Deverill, as Henry keeps him quite busy, but Adeliza will be present, no doubt. They have six girls – do you remember their names?”
Grier thought very hard. “Madalene, Marguerite, Remy, Cassandra, Nynette, and Rosemarie?”
He grunted. “You can remember the children’s names, but nothing else?”
“That is because I have my own child to name. A name means something.”
Dane fought off a grin as he looked away. “His name will be Dane,” he said. “There is nothing to discuss.”
She simply lifted her eyebrows. “I like the name Brandt,” she said. “You said that all of the men in the de Russe family have the same name – Brandt, Hugh, Braxton, Gaston, Trenton, and so forth. And I like Brandt.”
“We shall see who wins this battle.”
“Aye, we shall see.”
He turned to look at her, thinking to give her a threatening glare, but she stuck her tongue out at him and he started laughing. “Saucy wench,” he said, sounding resigned. “Shall I continue? Arica is married to Sir Damien Delamere, a knight with the House of de Lohr. I am not certain he will be here, either, but it is possible. They have three boys and two girls. Don’t tell me you remember their names.”
Grier nodded firmly. “Bryant, Etienne, Henry, Elise, and Nicola.”
“Very good. Cort has no children, nor do Boden, Gage, and Gilliana, but my brother, Matthieu, does. He has four sons.”
She hung her head from the carriage again. “I know,” she said. “Braxton, Hugh, Gaston, and Lucien.”
“But remember that his wife died two years ago, so unless he brings it up, do not speak of it.”
“I will not, I promise.”
Dane’s eyes glimmered at her. “You know everyone who will be there,” he said. “Although I have a feeling Uncle Matthew and Aunt Alix will be there as well, and if they bring their brood, then it will be a crowd like you have never seen before.”
Grier watched as the warmth faded from his features, replaced by the same concern and grief that seemed to fill his expression whenever the subject of his father came up. The man was sick, and had been for some time, with a cancer in his throat. At least, that’s what the physics said. But Gaston was a strong man; stronger than most. Cancer or no cancer, he refused to let it slow him down. But over the past year, no matter how hard he’d tried, it was evident that he was slowing down a great deal.
But his sons, like Dane, simply couldn’t take it.
The strongest man they knew was fading.
“Do you think it will be too much for your father?” she asked quietly. “Surely all of those people will overtax him.”
Dane shook his head before she even finished. “It is the best medicine in the world for him, being surrounded by those he loves,” he said. He looked to his wife as she sat in the cab, her hand on her belly. “And we’ve not told him about this child. It will be the best Christmas gift that we can give him.”
Grier smiled timidly. “I hope so,” she said. “I worry that it will be too exhausting for so many people to be at Deverill.”
Dane sighed faintly, his gaze moving over the winter-white landscape. “No one wants to miss this Christmas,” he said. “It may be the very last one my father ever has. I, for one, wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Grier could hear the pain in his voice. “And we shall not,” she said confidently. “I am very much looking forward to telling your father of our Christmas present to him. But most importantly, he must be here when it is opened. I should like for him to be one of the first ones to hold your son.”
Dane smiled bravely at her, but the tears were there at the thought of his father holding his grandson for the first time. It was like an arrow to his heart, so bittersweet he could barely stand it.
“As would I,” he said hoarsely.
Grier reached a hand out to him from the cab window and he took it, bending over to kiss it sweetly before letting it go. The feeling, for Dane’s father, was mutual between them.
After that, the conversation fell silent for the most part as they neared the town of Warminster. Deverill Castle was to the south of the town, but not very far away. The day was waning and dusk was approaching, but Dane was certain they would make it by nightfall, if not just before.
Thankfully, the sky had remained clear in spite of the snow and cold temperatures, but the travel hadn’t been uncomfortable in the least, which was a good thing. It could have been a blizzard and Dane still would have fought to make it home this time.
One last Christmas with his father.
The sky was darkening as they entered the northern outskirts of Warminster. The land was relatively flat here but for a few hills now and again, rising out of the greenery like silent sentinels. To the east, a few clouds were starting to show and the further they traveled, the more the clouds seemed to gather. They hadn’t quite moved in their direction yet, but Dane suspected they soon would. Still, they would be at Deverill Castle and the weather gods could bring all the snow they wanted to at that point. A white Christmas was a beautiful thing to see.
Entering the town proper, the smell of smoke from cooking fires wafted in the air. There were a few homes on the outskirts, all of them preparing for the coming night. As the party continued on, a church rose up on the bend of the road, a stone structure with moss growing on the walls. A churchyard spread out around it, with the tips of gravestones sticking up through the snow.
“Dane?”
Grier was calling him from the cab and Dane reined his horse around, trotting back to the carriage where she had her head out of the window again. She was smiling.
“Warminster, I presume?” she asked.
He nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “Deverill Castle is less than an hour away now. We are very close.”
Grier nodded as she looked around, her rosy face the only thing visible beneath the fur hood she wore. “It does not look like a very big town,” she said. “Not as big as Shrewsbury.”
Dane was looking around, too. “We are on the very northern edge,” he told her. “It becomes much bigger the further south we go.”
A de Russe Christmas Miracle (de Russe Legacy Book 8) Page 1
