O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,2

hands on his face.

“The angels were very brave, weren’t they?” she said.

Maxton nodded. “They were, indeed.”

“And you are very brave, aren’t you, Dada?”

“I am, love.”

“I want to be like you when I get old,” she said. “Can I have swords, too? One for each hand.”

“If you like.”

She nodded excitedly. As he hugged her, Melisandra wouldn’t be left out. “Me, too!” she declared. “I am going to be just like Dada and Uncle Kress and Uncle Achilles and Uncle Sherry!”

Maxton was the recipient of little arms around his neck as Melisandra launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. He had two happy little girls, declaring their desire to be just like their father, and he was a contented man.

Proud, too.

He never knew life could be so good.

But the excitement eventually faded and the girls fell asleep against him, safe in their father’s arms while visions of fighting angels danced in their heads. As the fire snapped low in the hearth and the snow fell steadily outside, Maxton found more peace than he had ever known with three sleeping girls.

That was his idea of heaven these days.

Eventually, Andressa came back down the stairs, entering the hall to find her husband and all three girls sleeping. At least, she thought they were all sleeping until Maxton peeped an eye open at her. She smiled faintly.

“Well?” she said. “Did you fill their heads with gore and battle?”

He closed his eye. “I gave them a tale of glory,” he muttered. “Isn’t that what this season is all about? Glory?”

“The glory of God, Max. Not battle.”

“There is much glory in battle that God is responsible for.”

Andressa looked at her sleeping angels, shaking her head with regret. “I hope this does not come back to haunt you.”

“What do you mean?”

She gestured towards her daughters. “Do you really want your daughters to grow up to be assassins, living the life of death and blood as you did?” she asked. “Is that really what you want?”

He opened both eyes, looking at her. “They are only stories, Andy,” he said. “You take them too seriously.”

“And you do not take them seriously enough. They are impressionable, Max. They believe everything you say.”

He simply grunted. Seeing that she would get no answer from him, Andressa turned her attention to the sleeping girls.

“’Tis bedtime,” she said softly. “Everyone has had a busy day and it will be even busier tomorrow.”

With a weary sigh, Maxton stood up carefully with sleeping girls in his arms as Andressa bent over to pick up her eldest daughter from the fur on the floor.

“Tomorrow is Christmas morning, Mama,” he whispered. “They’ll be awake before the sun rises.”

Andressa cuddled the child in her arms as they headed for the mural stairs that led to the upper floors. “They are always awake before the sun rises,” she murmured. “Is everything ready for tomorrow?”

Maxton nodded. “Three little girls, three ponies,” he said. “It has been difficult hiding those animals from Danae. She comes into the stable often.”

“That is because she is nosy, like her mother,” Andressa said, mounting the stairs as Maxton followed. “She didn’t see them, did she?”

Maxton took the stairs carefully. “Nay,” he said. “We put them in with the cattle so she has not seen them.”

“Good.”

“I put your gift in with the cattle, too.”

Andressa glanced at him, grinning. “Nay, you did not,” she said. “You have hidden it in your chest.”

He frowned. “Did you go hunting for it, you little minx?”

She laughed softly.

He growled.

Three little girls were deposited in their warm beds, tucked in by doting parents. Andressa lingered a moment, looking over her three adorable girls as Maxton came up behind her, drawing her against him and nuzzling her neck.

“Shall I give you another gift now?” he whispered. “It’s ready and waiting for you.”

She knew what he meant and she started to laugh. “That is a gift you give me almost every night.”

“With pleasure, Madam.”

Bending over, he swept her into his arms, carrying her from the chamber as his daughters slept peacefully.

Maxton gave his wife his “gift” twice that night before finally falling into an exhausted slumber. Outside, the snow had grown worse and the winds began to howl, but inside the master’s chamber at Chalford Hill, all was cozy and peaceful.

At least for the moment.

But that was about to change.

Part Two

Not a Creature was Stirring…

When Maxton opened his eyes, he wasn’t in his bed.

He was in the stable.

At least, he was someone’s stable. He wasn’t sure if it was his. Frankly, he had no idea where