Page 16 of A Celtic Yuletide Carol (Christmas in the Castle)

A Yuletide Wish

Rozenn was recovering her strength from the difficult birth. Her newborn was nursing well and thriving. Each time Ulla visited the young mother and cuddled the chubby infant, bittersweet memories of her own son Fjall flooded her with conflicting emotions of anguish and joy.

I was a fool to avoid babes and new mothers. Toddlers and young children. I shunned them, afraid of reviving the pain of my unbearable loss. And yet I find the opposite is true. The maternal love I have for Lukaz—and now for this newborn babe—have filled my empty soul and replaced the desolate grief with a desperate longing for another child.

The late autumn chill nipped at her cheeks as she trudged through the forest, lost in thought. Vill bounded ahead when the cozy stone cottage came into view. The acrid smell of woodsmoke and the savory aroma of rabbit stew wafted from the fireplace into the early evening air.

Her pulse fluttered wildly with anticipation. Cardin would be coming soon.

Every night now, once he’d tucked Lukaz in and told him a bedtime tale, Cardin slipped from the castle and joined her at the cottage. They shared a simple meal, caressed each other in front of the fire, and made love in the moonlight amongst the soft furs in her bed.

Ulla’s legs quivered under her woolen kirtle. By the Goddess, she yearned for him. And loved him more and more every passing day.

Each time she melted in his arms, dizzy with desire. Each time he coaxed her to climax with his clever tongue. Each time he poured himself into her and filled her with seed.

Her heart clenched at the thought of him departing for Aquitaine.

He’ll leave me soon. When the holidays are over, he’ll go back to Biarritz. Lukaz will return to Finistère with Gabrielle and Bastien to begin his official training as a knight. I’ll be alone again, like before. But this time, love will nurture my soul. I’ll have these treasured memories forever. And perhaps, Goddess willing… Cardin’s child.

Thick ivy vines twined up the arched trellis over the entrance of her cottage. She climbed the three stone steps, unlocked the solid oak door, and followed Vill inside. Placing her herbal supplies in the corner cupboard of her kitchen, she leaned against the counter, her throat constricting with sudden dread.

Lukaz would be devastated if Cardin abandoned him again.

Ulla ladled fresh water from a bucket, filled Vill’s bowl, and set it on the floor for him to drink. She stared sightlessly at her wolf, seeking a solution.

Perhaps she could convince Laudine to keep Lukaz here at le Chateau de Landuc. He could live in the castle, continue the archery lessons with Ulla every morning, and hunt at her side with Vill, Finn, and Rask.

Supervised by his illustrious grandfather—the renowned Red Knight, Sir Esclados le Ros—Lukaz could begin his formal training as a squire under the tutelage of Sir Olivier de Montfort, First Knight of Landuc, and not be forced to return to ridicule as a bastard whose father had fled once again.

Her hopes gained momentum as her mind raced with ideas.

Quentin, as Master of Horse, could help Lukaz develop advanced equestrian skills. In three or four years—when the Friesian colt was ready—Lukaz would be a proficient horseman, able to ride Kol for the daily hunt with Ulla. Every summer, when Bastien brought his sons Gunnar and Haldar south to train at la Joyeuse Garde, Lukaz could join them and learn superior swordsmanship from the legendary Lancelot du Lac.

Her spirit soaring like her falcon Finn, Ulla’s loving heart overflowed at a tender, endearing thought.

She could be the mother that Lukaz never had.

A knock at the entrance interrupted her reverie.

Ears perked up in alert, Vill dashed to the door and snuffled at the threshold. Recognizing the familiar scent, the wolf’s tail thumped against the wall as Ulla let Cardin in.

He swept her into his sinewy arms, swirling her in a dance of joy. “By the Goddess, I’ve missed you. You’ve been in my thoughts all day long.” As if to prove his point, he pulled her hips against his, pressing the hard evidence against her soft stomach. He nuzzled her neck and kissed her lips. “Something smells incredible.” He sniffed the air appreciatively, a wolfish grin stretching across his scarred, handsome face. “Rabbit stew. Let’s eat. I’m starved.”

Ulla chuckled silently as she led him into the kitchen where a ravenous Vill gnawed furiously on a large, meaty bone. My wolves are always hungry, she mused, seating Cardin at the table and pouring two goblets of rich red wine. She handed him a pewter chalice and smiled as he sampled the beverage. The earthy taste will complement the mushrooms in the stew and enhance the flavor of the meat and fresh herbs. While he savored the heady wine, she fetched two bowls, two spoons, and a loaf of grainy meslin bread.

Wrapping her hand in a thick cloth, she lifted the simmering pot from the hearth and set it on a rack upon the kitchen counter. Into Cardin’s bowl, she scooped three heaping ladles of stew, with two for herself. She served him with an impish kiss and took her place at the table.

He devoured half the bowl with greedy relish, smacking his smiling lips. A roguish glint gleamed in his dark, dancing eyes. “My compliments to the cook.” He raised his goblet in tribute. “To another of your culinary delights.”

Ulla watched him sop up every last drop of stew with a large hunk of bread. When he’d finished, he licked his fingers and hummed in approval. The deep rumble of his voice rippled up her limbs and settled in her loins.

“That was delicious.” He downed the rest of his wine and rose to his feet. Circling behind her chair, he brushed the long hair away from her shoulder and swooped down to nuzzle her neck. “Almost as delicious as you.” With the tip of his tongue, he traced her sensitive skin, sucking softly on the lobe of her ear. “I want to taste you, Ulla. Come to bed.”

Abandoning the dirty dishes and empty pot on the kitchen counter, she followed Cardin as he took her by the hand and led her down the hall.

Inside the bedroom, he stoked the banked embers and added another log to the hearth. The crackling fire roared to life and removed the autumn chill from the moonlit room.

Legs quavering, pulse fluttering in her throat, she stood in breathless anticipation as he returned to unlace her bodice and bare her breasts. When his warm lips alternated between each of her aching nipples, Ulla’s knees went weak with desire.

He pushed the gown over her shoulders and down her hips, helping her to step out of the dress, which he folded and tossed onto a chair near the bed.

While Ulla stood shivering—and not from the cold November night—Cardin unstrapped his sword, shed his clothing, and laid her gently upon the bed.

“I want to worship your body,” he murmured, trailing fervent kisses from her trembling lips to her tingling breasts. As he sucked and tugged on her nipples, the throbbing between her thighs became unbearable. With long, adept fingers, he parted her tender folds. And drove her wild with his wicked, wonderful tongue.

Cardin climbed over her, nudging Ulla’s legs apart with strong, impatient knees. Calloused hands slipped under her bottom and tilted her hips up to receive him. As his penetrating gaze pierced her soul, he plunged into her empty, hollow ache. With relentless rhythm he pounded her, like the savage ocean crashing onto a cliff. And when the irresistible waves of release washed over them both, Cardin inundated her with his copious seed.

Sated and euphoric, she exhaled in bliss as he lowered himself to her side. He cradled her head over his thumping heart and kissed her tousled hair. “Come sleep in my arms.”

Nuzzling the dark hair on his chest, Ulla inhaled his musky scent deep into her lungs.

She wanted to capture his essence inside her. Keep a part of him with her forever.

As she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, enveloped in his protective embrace, Ulla made a fervent Yuletide wish.

That Cardin would change his mind about returning to Aquitaine.

And stay in the Forest of Brocéliande with Lukaz and her.

****

In the alcove off the castle kitchen, Cardin sat with Laudine, Gaultier, and Lukaz, watching his son pour honey over the cinnamon oatcakes fresh from Ma?lys’ oven. In a few minutes, after the boy had eaten his snack, the two men were planning to take him out to the lists for practice training with the knights of Landuc.

A breathless Jehan abruptly appeared in the doorway. “Pardon the interruption, my lord, but a royal message has arrived from le Chateau de Beaufort .” With a reverent bow, the dutiful servant handed Cardin an official document sealed with a crown and three ermine symbols—the royal emblem of King Guillemin of Finistère.

Pulse thundering in his ears, Cardin rose from the oak table and accepted the document with damp palms and shaking hands. He held his mother’s intense gaze as he unsheathed the knife at his waist. With a deep, calming breath, he broke the seal. Read the letter. And whooped for joy.

At the inquisitive look on Lukaz’ curious face, Cardin decided to choose his next words very carefully. He wanted to ask Ulla for her hand first. If she agreed to marry him, then she and Cardin could tell Lukaz the wonderful news together. If she refused his proposal, Cardin would inform his son when the time was right that he would remain in Bretagne and live hereafter with Lukaz at le Chateau de Beaufort in Finistère.

Cardin grinned at his eager, expectant child, divulging the contents of the letter that were safe to share. “Uncle Bastien will be here for your birthday on the Winter Solstice. He and King Guillemin will arrive on the eighteenth of December. Tatie Gabrielle and your cousins will be coming here, too. We’ll celebrate your birthday—and the entire Yuletide season—with the royal family of Finistère!”

Beaming with delight, Lukaz finished the last bite of his oatcake and licked the honey from his fingers.

Cardin made eye contact with his brother. “Uncle Gaultier, will you please take Lukaz out to the training field? I need to speak with Mamie. I’ll join you both later.”

“Of course,” Gaultier replied as he rose from his chair. “Come on, Lukaz. Let’s get our gear and strap on our swords. I’ll help you with your leather armor.”

Lukaz kissed his grandmother’s cheeks and hugged Cardin goodbye. “ Au revoir, Mamie. See you soon, Papa. à bient?t !”

Once his brother and son had left, Cardin handed the royal document to Laudine and waited with bated breath while she quickly scanned it. “King Guillemin has reinstated my position as royal archer at le Chateau de Beaufort . He’s also given me permission to bring my wife and son to live with me at the castle. Maman… now that I have a home to offer, I can ask Ulla to marry me. Pray that she says yes!”

Laudine stood, skirted around the table, and pulled Cardin into her loving arms. “Why wouldn’t she? She’s as besotted with you as you are with her.” Amber eyes brimming with unshed tears, she kissed his bristled cheek. “I have something to show you. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

A few moments later, his mother returned, clutching a small, intricately carved wooden box with an elaborate metal hinge. She opened it to reveal a pair of golden wedding rings, glistening in the afternoon sun. One was a simple band, etched with a trio of ermine symbols. The other displayed a dazzling, faceted ruby, glittering in the gilded light.

“These were my parents’ wedding rings.” Laudine’s voice was a reverent whisper. “I want you to have them.” She placed the box in his trembling hands. The tip of her finger traced the facets of the flawless scarlet gem. “A ruby represents love. Perfect for your beautiful bride.” She gazed up at him with a generous maternal smile. “The castle will be filled with love for the holidays. Our whole family will be here.” She reached up to stroke the side of his face, her amber eyes aglow. “Bastien and Gabrielle were married eleven years ago on the Winter Solstice—the start of the holiday celebration. We could have your wedding to Ulla here at the castle on the sixth of January. La Fête des Rois . Twelfth Night—the culmination of the Yuletide season.”

Cardin crushed her against his chest, momentarily too overwhelmed to speak. He gulped in gratitude, kissed her soft cheek, and whispered in her ear. “ Merci, Maman. De tout mon coeur. Thank you— from the bottom of my heart.” He tucked the jewelry box inside the leather sheath belted at his waist. “I’m going to the cottage to ask her now. If she accepts—can I bring her back to the castle tonight? To announce our betrothal and celebrate?”

Exuberant joy illuminated Laudine’s bright face. “Absolutely. I’ll have Ma?lys prepare a feast!” She turned his shoulders, hastening him toward the door. “Go now. And bring your betrothed back with you.”

****

Ulla was sitting at the kitchen table, sewing the fur lining inside the dark green cloak she was making for Cardin as a Yuletide gift, when she heard an unexpected knock at the front door. Lukaz and Cardin had recently gone back to the castle after the archery lessons and morning hunt. From his wagging tail and enthusiasm, Vill obviously recognized the visitor at the door. But Ulla cautiously peered out the window to see who had come to her cottage.

And was stunned to find Cardin standing on her doorstep.

Dashing back to the kitchen table to cover the cloak with a quilt—she didn’t want him to see the gift she was sewing for him—Ulla opened the front door and welcomed him in.

Apprehension and elation warred on his scarred, handsome face.

What has he come to tell me? It can’t be bad news, for he seems excited. Yet I sense fear in him as well. What on earth could it be?

Plumping the rabbit fur pillows on the wooden settee, she motioned for him to sit in front of the hearth.

He complied, taking hold of her hand to pull her down beside him. Nervous and jumpy, he stroked her hand within his, as if searching for the right words to say.

Cardin swallowed forcefully, a desperate hope in his vulnerable gaze. “I love you, Ulla. I’ve come to ask you a question that I’ve been longing to ask for quite some time.” He raised her hand to his trembling lips. “I wrote a letter to my brother Bastien, requesting permission to return to my position as castle archer at le Chateau de Beaufort in Finistère.”

Ulla’s heart leapt to her throat.

“I can’t go back to Biarritz.,” he stammered, his deep voice quavering. “I could never leave you. Or Lukaz. I love you both too much.” He fervently kissed her shaking hand. “I couldn’t ask you this before, since I had no home to offer. But now that King Guillemin has granted my request, I can ask you the question that’s been burning inside me.” He dropped down to one knee in front of her, piercing her soul with his penetrating gaze. “Ulla, will you marry me? Become my wife, and a mother to my son? Come live with us at le Chateau de Beaufort in Finistère?”

She flung her arms around his neck, nearly toppling him to the floor. Tears of joy streaming down her face, she nodded vehemently and kissed his grinning face.

He jumped to his feet, pulled her into his arms, and devoured her lips. “You’ve healed me, Ulla. Opened my eyes. Reunited me with my son.” He gently gripped her face between his calloused hands, showering her with soft kisses. “I’m whole again. Reborn. And happier than I’ve ever been. I love you and always will. With every beat of my heart.”

Cardin retrieved a small wooden box from a pouch strapped to his leather belt. He opened it and showed her the rings inside. “These belonged to my grandparents. My mother gave them to me for us.” He removed a magnificent ruby ring and slipped it on her finger. “It’s a bit too big,” he remarked, noting the loose fit. “And this one is too small for me. But the local goldsmith can adjust them in time for the wedding.”

Ulla’s breath caught as he stood and pulled her into his arms.

“ Maman suggested that we get married on Twelfth Night.” He lifted her hand and kissed the ruby ring. “Bastien, Gabrielle, and their four children will be arriving in mid-December, with King Guillemin and his royal entourage as well. The whole family will be here to celebrate Lukaz’ birthday on the Winter Solstice.” He kissed her smiling, incredulous lips. “We’ll feast all through the holidays. Dance, rejoice, and celebrate. And culminate the Yuletide season with a Twelfth Night wedding for you and me.”

Her spirit overflowing with joy, she rested her head over Cardin’s thundering heart.

He lifted her chin and lowered his lips to hers. Dark eyes aglow with longing and lust, he whispered huskily as he led her toward the bedroom. “Come, mon amour . Let’s seal our betrothal with love.”