Christmas Roses
By
Susan King
Mary Jo Putney
Patricia Rice
"Christmas Roses" Anthology Copyright © 2013 by Millington House Publishing, a division of Cosmic Stuff Media, LLC.
The Snow Rose © 2013 Susan King
The Black Beast of Belleterre © 2013 Mary Jo Putney
The Kissing Bough © 2013 Patricia Rice
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Published by Millington House Publishing, a division of Cosmic Stuff Media, LLC.
Bel Air, Maryland
www.millingtonhousepublishing.com
ISBN: 978-0-9893540-4-2
First Edition
Table of Contents
Introduction to the Snow Rose by Susan King
The Snow Rose
Oatmeal Brose Recipe
* * *
Introduction to The Black Beast of Belleterre by Mary Jo Putney
The Black Beast of Belleterre
Potato Kale Soup Recipe
* * *
Introduction to The Kissing Bough by Patricia Rice
The Kissing Bough
Lambs Wool Punch Recipe
Introduction to The Snow Rose
Susan King
Writing this little story is one of my happiest creative experiences, and I'm delighted to be able to share it with readers again. "The Snow Rose" was my first novella, a spinoff of my second novel, The Raven's Wish. Both stories are set amid the ongoing feud between the Frasers and the MacDonalds in 16th century Scotland. I love clan legends, and I'm part Fraser, so now and again I write something about the historical Frasers to see what sort of fictional mischief I can stir for them.
"The Snow Rose" is the story of Kenneth Fraser, one of the many cousins of Elspeth Fraser in The Raven's Wish (among eighty Fraser cousins all born within the same year, Elspeth is the only girl—it's based on a legend of Clan Fraser). I loved Kenneth, with his dry wit, his long, braided dark hair and his sexy Highlander look, and I wanted him to have a special romance of his own. His soulmate turned out to be Catriona MacDonald, who desperately needs help one snowy New Year's Eve—or Hogmanay, as this is Scotland.
Kenneth is the "first foot" arriving at Catriona's snowbound cottage one New Year's Eve—that is, first to set foot on the threshold after midnight. A dark-haired handsome man is a good omen, and these two bring luck to each other in the midst of a clan feud—but their New Year's beginning is a bit calamitous. A collapsed roof, a cow and a horse inside the cottage, a cat named Dog, a lost and valuable brooch, and, of course, the MacBaddies after our hero and heroine, who are getting to know each other even while the snow falls through a hole in the roof and a cow tumbles head over heels for the hero.
Here's a lovely wee recipe for a whiskey brose that's straight from the story, and just right for your own Hogmanay or New Year's Eve. Best wishes of the New Year to you!
Susan King
The Snow Rose
By
Susan King
Prologue
Christmas Day, 1573
Scotland, The Highlands
"I am Catriona MacDonald of Kilernan, and I need your help." Her soft Gaelic echoed in the silence. Catriona held her breath, and waited for a response from several men gathered near the hearth in the great hall at Glenran Castle. She lifted her chin slightly, determined to show no fear, though these were Frasers, and enemies of her clan.
No one spoke. Although she stood in the center of a hall filled with men, women and children, amid the Yuletide scents of pine and juniper, of spices and cakes and roasted meats, she felt utterly alone in that instant. Still, she could not blame the Frasers for staring at her so warily. She had broken the peace of their Christmas by coming to their castle.
As the silence continued, Catriona lifted trembling fingers to the red plaid she wore draped over her frayed green gown, and unfastened the silver brooch that she had owned since infancy. She held it out toward Callum Fraser, the laird of Glenran.
"This brooch marks an honorable pledge, made on Christmas Eve twenty years past, by your father," she said. "I have treasured the snow rose all my life."
"Snow rose?" Callum asked as he accepted the brooch.
She nodded. "I called it that when I was a child, because of the silver setting, and the rose quartz stone."
He examined the piece thoughtfully. "I remember seeing it when I was a child."
"Lachlann Fraser gave it to me on Christmas Eve, when I was but a few days old. He pinned it to my swaddling and told my mother that it marked his pledge of protection for me. He said that if I ever was in need, my mother or I should come to him."
"And you are in need now?" Callum asked.
"I am," she said quietly. "Though I am a MacDonald, and you are Frasers, and our clans have feuded for generations, I must call upon this pledge. I know that Lachlann of Glenran died several years ago, but I hope that his son will honor his promise, in the spirit of the Yuletide season."
Callum watched her somberly, then leaned over to murmur to the man seated beside him; that man had dark hair and brilliantly blue eyes, and seemed older than the others. Callum listened to him carefully.
The other Frasers murmured among themselves, most of them standing with their backs to the yellow light that spilled from the stone fireplace. While Catriona could not see their faces clearly, she saw that they were tall and well-made, blond, dark and red-headed, wearing plaids of deep green and midnight blue, colors favored by the Glenran Frasers.
Another dark-haired man watched her intently from where he stood in a shadowed corner near the hearth. He leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his wrapped plaid, crossing his long, muscular legs, cased in deerhide boots. His gaze never wavered from her face.
Although her heart thumped, Catriona looked at him boldly. He inclined his head in acknowledgment; Catriona soon lowered her eyes, her cheeks heated.
She waited, ignoring the sting of her chilled fingers and toes as they warmed after hours of riding in the cold. She ignored, too, the rumbling of her empty stomach, roused by the scents of the Frasers' Christmas feast. She stood straight and held her head high, feeling the weight of her black hair as it spilled down her back, and curling her toes inside her worn leather boots. Her knees shook, her heart pounded, but on the outside, she remained quiet and still.
Finally the laird leaned forward, his strong, handsome face lined with a frown. "My father told us the story of a Christmas Eve when the widow of Iain MacDonald of Kilernan saved his life."
Catriona nodded. "My mother took Lachlann Fraser in during a blizzard. He had been hunting and stopped at Kilernan, unable to make it back to Glenran because of the storm. My mother was still in childbed, and could have directed her men not to admit him," she continued. "He was a Fraser, and she had been recently widowed by the hand of a Fraser. But she honored the custom of Highland hospitality, which is offered to any visitor, friend or foe. Lachlann gave me the brooch and the pledge in return."
"My father was deeply touched by your mother's generosity," Callum said. "I recall that he mentioned a babe, whom he promised to protect. But the MacDonald widow never contacted him again." He glanced at the other men. "My father would expect his kinsmen to honor this vow." A few of them nodded agreement. Callum turned to her. "What is it you need?"
Catriona sighed in relief, and gathered boldne
ss in her next breath. "My uncle, Hugh MacDonald, holds Kilernan Castle. I am the Maid of Kilernan, my father's only heir. My uncle will not acknowledge my claim unless I wed the man he has chose for me." She paused. "I want you to take the castle from Hugh MacDonald."
Callum stared at her. His kinsmen stared at her too. From across the room, she sensed the gazes of the women as well.
The laird cleared his throat. "Take it?"
"Take it," she said, "and give it into my keeping. I have loyal kinsmen living at Kilernan who will help me hold it."
"Then let them take it for you," a red-haired Fraser said.
"My kinsmen are afraid to go against my uncle, although they disapprove of his actions."
"Hugh MacDonald is a drunken fool," the red-headed Fraser said. "Surely when he sobers, he will honor your claim."
"He refuses to do that unless I wed Parlan MacDonald, my third cousin." She drew a breath. "The Glenran Frasers are well known for fearlessness and clever raiding. You can take the castle and give it into my keeping."
"We will not take Kilernan by force," Callum said. "Surely you are aware of our signed pledge to end the feud with Clan Donald." He handed the brooch back to her. Catriona pinned it to her plaid. "Let us help you some other way," Callum said.
"Lachlann Fraser promised whatever I needed," she said.
"Lachlann did not promise to kill MacDonalds for you," someone said in a precise, deep tone; the dark-haired man standing in the shadows spoke. His frowning gaze pierced hers.
"Kenneth is right." The man beside Callum leaned forward. "The Frasers signed a bond years ago that forbids them to fight MacDonalds. Your clansmen signed the same pledge, though they have not kept it. The Frasers honor it."
"Are you not a Glenran Fraser?" she asked the man.
"I am Duncan Macrae of Dulsie, kin by marriage to the Frasers. And I am a lawyer for the Privy Council. What is the dispute with your uncle? There may be another way to solve it."
She shook her head. "My uncle took over Kilernan when I was a babe. My mother never wed again, and died a few years ago. Now my uncle insists that I marry Parlan. I fear that I will lose Kilernan."
"He is within his rights as your guardian to choose a husband for you," Macrae said. "But I will look into your legal position when I go to Edinburgh in the spring, if you like."
"By then, I will be wed, unless you help me," she said.
"This is no affair for Frasers," Callum said. "Go home, girl, and listen to your uncle."
"I cannot. I fled Kilernan a few months past, to stay in a shieling hut in the hills above Loch Garry. Parlan and my uncle want me to return to Kilernan, but I have refused, until the castle has been promised to my keeping."
"Take your troubles to your clan chief," Kenneth Fraser said. "We cannot solve this for you." Catriona glanced toward the shadows again. His deep voice had a soothing quality, despite his harsh words.
"I sent word to the MacDonald," she said. "He refused to take Kilernan from Hugh, and promised to send a silver spoon to my first born."
"Then you have his blessing to marry Parlan," Kenneth said. "Do that, and you will have Kilernan. You have no choice."
"I do," she pointed out. "I came to you."
His dark eyes gleamed in the firelight. "Stubborn girl," he said softly. "Let us add to your sheepfold, or give you oats and barley to see you through the winter. We cannot attack a MacDonald castle for you."
"Then take the castle without bloodshed," she said impulsively. "The Glenran Frasers are said to be very clever."
"Without bloodshed? That," Kenneth said, "is impossible."
"We will gladly help you some other way," Callum said.
Hopelessness wrenched through her. "I must have Kilernan," she whispered. She had not told them the whole truth. Now that they had rejected her plea, her throat tightened over the words. She doubted they would care that she wanted to provide a home for eight children, her cousins. Hugh had not cared, either; he had said she was a fool to take on the responsibility. The Frasers might agree.
She saw the dark-haired Fraser frown, watching her. His eyes seemed kind, and his gaze warmed her like a hearthfire. But he offered her no aid. None of them did.
"Catriona," Callum said. "You are welcome to stay and share our feast."
Food would not solve her dilemma, though her stomach clenched in hunger; she had eaten little that day. Catriona glanced at the tables loaded with dishes, greenery, and blazing candlelight, and then looked away. Her pride told her to accept nothing from the Frasers now.
But eight hungry children awaited her. She could not deny them a chance for a Christmas feast.
"I cannot stay," she finally said. "But I will accept a gift of food for my cousins, who have little to eat this day."
Callum nodded. "And for yourself?"
"I want nothing from you," she replied, head high. "Farewell, and blessings of the season to you." She turned away.
A woman stepped away from the tables and came toward her, carrying a sturdy toddler in her arms. The mother was delicately beautiful, with copper gold hair and wide gray eyes. A boy with dark hair stood behind her, and two young children clung to her skirts, a boy and a girl who shared their mother's striking gray eyes. The children watched her curiously, and the babe sucked a finger and babbled, grinning. Catriona smiled at him.
"I am Elspeth Fraser, wife to Macrae of Dulsie, the lawyer," the woman said. "The Frasers here are my cousins. We were all fostered by Lachlann of Glenran. We do not mean to dishonor his vow to you, but please understand our position. I will urge my husband and my kin to look into the matter for you."
Catriona nodded. "Thank you. Farewell."
"You look cold and tired," Elspeth said. "Warm yourself by our fire. Eat with us, and share songs and dances with us. It is Christmas, Catriona MacDonald. Be of good cheer this day." Catriona hesitated, urged by her empty stomach, her cold feet, her lonely heart. She looked into Elspeth's silver eyes, and smiled at her beautiful children. She glanced at the tantalizing burden of cakes, meats, and cheeses on the table, and inhaled the scents of beeswax candles and fragrant greenery.
She glanced at the other women and children who watched her. They were all handsome, keen-eyed, looking at her with interest, and without suspicion. No one seemed anxious for her to be gone.
She sensed the warmth and love among these Frasers, as tangible as the aromas of ginger cakes and evergreens. Suddenly Catriona wanted to share in what they had. The desire and the need nearly buckled her knees. She starved for more than food.
But she could not endure pity or charity in place of the real help she desperately needed. When Christmas was done, the Frasers would still be enemies of the MacDonalds.
"I must go," she murmured. "Others wait for me."
Elspeth touched her arm gently. "Take this, then," she said. The older boy held a cloth bundle toward her.
"Cheese, cakes, and roasted meat," Elspeth explained. "The cheese has holes in it. Look through a slice, and you will see what will come to you in the new year. And there are candles to bring the blessing of light in the coming year. I added a flask of uisge beatha too. May it warm you well."
Catriona took the bundle, blinking away the tears that pooled in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. "A happy Christmas and luck in the new year to all of you." She moved toward the door. Behind her, she heard a strong tread as a man strode the length of the hall.
"Catriona MacDonald." The voice of the dark Fraser, deep and mellow, sounded. She turned to see Kenneth Fraser walking toward her. "Stay. We will escort you home later."
She gazed up into his strong, lean face, into heavily lashed eyes of brilliant, warm brown, like firelight shot through polished, dark cairngorm. Somehow all the tempting, wondrous comforts of this place seemed to gather in those deep, rich eyes.
She shook her head. "I must go. A good new year to you."
"Bliadhna Sona," he said. "A lucky new year to you."
"Luck," she said softly, "is what
I need." She went toward the door, aware that he watched her.
Though they had refused to help her in the way that she needed, the Frasers' kindness made her ache inside, down deep where she had felt empty for so long. Their charity reminded her keenly that she lacked what existed in such abundance here. Loving kin, comfort, safety, and companionship were commonplace to them—and as rare as gold to her.
She shoved open the door and ran down the stone steps. During Yuletide, charity always flowed like wine, she told herself. They would gladly share with her now. Later, after the new year, the Frasers would once again be her enemies. Fraser pledges would prove false after all, just as her uncle had often said whenever he saw the snow rose brooch pinned to her plaid.
She ran through the yard, fighting back a sob. Then she tore the silver brooch from her plaid and tossed it into the ice-crusted mud.
Kenneth Fraser walked through the yard as the girl cantered away on her garron pony. He watched her until she was a dark speck moving over the snow-coated hills. He sighed and turned.
Something sparkled in the mud beside his boot, and he bent down to pick up the silver brooch. The snow rose, she had called it. Silver tracery, curved like flower petals, circled a pink stone. He imagined Catriona as a little girl, naming the brooch, cherishing the pledge it represented. But the Frasers had disappointed her.
Gripping the brooch, he walked toward the tower entrance, and looked up to see Duncan Macrae standing in the doorway.
"You want to help the girl," Duncan observed calmly.
Kenneth shrugged. "Someone should help her."
"If blood is spilled in feud between Frasers and MacDonalds, the crown will send fire and sword upon your heads. The Regent will not hesitate this time."
"I know." Kenneth frowned as he studied the sparkling brooch. He thought of the MacDonald girl, shining like a Christmas angel come to earth: gentle, graceful, and yet filled with a marvelous strength.
Christmas Roses: Love Blooms in Winter Page 1
