O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,316

he’d lost, not trusting the golden hands of the bejeweled clock he’d stolen from the Portuguese. Thankfully, it was still early. Well before midday. He’d not missed Ellie’s special Christmas dinner. He could still make it.

Filling the washbowl with icy water from the pitcher, he stripped down and scrubbed hard to rid both body and mind of any lingering stench of last night. He’d not go to Ellie smelling like that damn monkey. Hair dripping down his chest, he threw open the doors of his wardrobe and selected the best of his clothes, including his favorite jacket, the one Ellie had made. He was dressed and nearly out the door when he stopped short. He couldn’t go to her empty-handed.

“What do I give her?” An edginess he’d never known before took hold of his gut and twisted. He’d never thought of marrying. Didn’t even know how to ask her if she’d have him. What if she had already changed her mind? Lasses did that sometimes. His hand went to the ring he wore on a gold chain around his neck. It was a simple band of braided silver. His mother’s ring. Whenever troubled, the touch of it always brought him solace and settled his mind. He smiled. Aye. This ring was perfect for Ellie.

The closer he got to the quartermaster’s quarters, the drier his mouth became. He hoped Hobbs had plenty of drink to spare. When he reached the door, he stopped and stared at it, paralyzed by what he was about to do. Before he could knock, it opened.

Hobbs’s mouth fell open, and his bushy brows hiked to his hairline.

“Ask Cook if she can spare more butter, too,” Ellie called out from somewhere inside. “I needed more than I reckoned for the potatoes.”

“I will,” Hobbs replied. He cleared his throat and opened the door wider, waving Tait inside. “Forgive me manners, Cap’n. Ye caught me by surprise. Do come in.”

“My invitation is still good, aye?” As Tait stepped into the room, an unnerving sense of having been in this exact time and place before hit him. His spirits lifted. This time things would be different. This time there’d be no unhappiness.

“O’ course yer invite still be good, course it is.” Hobbs looked like a man about to walk the plank. He stepped close and whispered, “I thank ye greatly, Cap’n. Ye’re being here will make Ellie’s Christmas all the better.”

At that moment, Ellie entered the room bearing the same covered platter Tait had watched her carry to the table last night. “Captain Tait! Welcome!” She hurried to place the tray on the table. Wiping her hands on her apron, she rushed forward with hands outstretched. “Happy Christmas and Merry Yule!”

Her beauty struck him like it never had before, especially since the last time he’d held her—lifeless in his arms. Nay. He wouldn’t ruin this precious moment with the memory of that terrible possibility. Without a word, he brushed away her outstretched hands and pulled her into his arms. Holding her tight, he closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, savoring everything about her. She smelled of baking bread, roasted fowl, and vibrancy more alluring than fair weather and calm seas. She was so warm. So soft. Thankfully, so alive.

A yearning, an aching emptiness nearly took him to his knees. “Be my wife,” he rasped into her hair. To hell with dancing around with wooing and words. He had to hear her accept, to know she’d still have him. He stepped back, holding tight to her hands, he knelt. “Please, Ellie. Say ye’ll be my wife.”

She stared down at him with eyes wide and lips parted. No answer came. She didn’t even blink.

This wasn’t good. The ring. He’d forgotten to give her the ring. Tait fumbled the ring off the necklace and held it out. “This was my mother’s. For years it’s protected me from stormy seas and ill luck. If ye wear it, mayhap it’ll protect ye, too.” He shrugged and twitched a nervous smile, wishing she’d say something. “Ye might need protection from all manner of things if ye choose to marry a man like me.”

Her unreadable look slid from his face to the ring. Tears welled in her eyes, overflowed, then streamed down both her cheeks.

“Oh, dear God, no.” Tait jumped to his feet and gently swiped at the dreaded wetness. “Please dinna cry, lass. I nay meant to make ye cry. Forgive me—I’ll…I’ll go. I’ll nay bother ye ever again.” He had failed. He