The Holly & the Ivy (Daughters of Avalon Book 2) Read online

  Hail to you, O sun of the seasons,

  As you travel the skies aloft;

  Your steps are strong on heaven’s wings,

  You are the glorious mother of stars.

  You lie down in the injurious ocean

  Without impairment and without fear;

  You rise up on the peaceful wave-crest

  Like a youthful queen in bloom.

  “Blessings,” said everyone in turn. And Iain continued, with his own thanks, “Tonight, I am thankful for…” his eyes scanned the circle, alighting first on his wife, and then flitting from Liana, to Alex, then to Elspeth and finally to Malcom. “The return of my son.” He ripped the first bite from the Yule loaf, chewing as best he could around a broad grin.

  Next came Page. She took the bread from her husband and held the wreath aloft, saying, “I am thankful for…” Her gaze slid to Cora. “My reunion with a dear old friend. Thank you so much for aught you ever did for me, Cora. Because of you, my childhood bears me sweet memories.” She, too, took a bite of the bread, smiling, before she passed it along.

  Next came Liana. She said exuberantly, and with great flourish, “I—” Her gaze moved to Elspeth. “I am eternally grateful for my sweet new sister. How very dreary this family has been till your arrival.”

  Alex shouted, “Pòg mo thòin!” Kiss my arse!

  Everyone laughed.

  Next came Glenna. Her gaze narrowed on Alex as she said, “I am most thankful to know where my salt went. I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug!” I’ll give you a slap on the ear.

  Alex fidgeted, and his gaze moved to Elspeth. It was her turn now, and she took the bread from Glenna, holding it aloft as the others had, feeling all eyes on her, and wishing she had more eloquent words to speak. “I…” She looked at her husband, and his gaze immediately settled her nerves. She inhaled, then said in a rush, “I am most grateful for my champion, who saved me…” Her voice faltered, because, she was still too emotional over the events of the past year. Furthermore, it was difficult to be so pleased over her own circumstances when she knew her sisters were still in danger. “Well, I am thankful for everyone.” She shrugged, finishing with a hand to her belly, “Especially our babe. I love you, Malcom,” she said, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “And, if my husband will allow it, I should be pleased to bear him into the world in a place so fine, with a family such as you.”

  All eyes were shining by the time she was through, including the MacKinnon’s. She took a bite of the bread, dreading the salty taste of it, but surprised and relieved to find it sweet. She gave Glenna a surprised glance, and the old woman winked as she passed the Yule bread along. So then, it was a spell she had cast in the kitchen. Ut dulce sit, she’d said. Make it sweet.

  Next came Cora, and the maid said, “I’m thankful to my Lord Aldergh for allowing me to join him and my lady on this journey. “Here’s hoping my Alwin willna be weeping ’cause I’m gone.” She took a great-big tear out of the bread, and passed it along.

  Next came Malcom. And his gaze lit upon his wife, lowering to her belly, and then very affectionately moving to his mother, and to his father. “I am thankful for the bounty that is my life,” he said, looking straight at his father. “I will be pleased to stay until after Candlemas, and I, too, will cherish the memory of my old mon with a babe in his arms.” He took a hearty bite, then grinned, and handed the loaf down to his little brother.

  “Here, here!” everyone shouted. “Here, here!”

  Finally, at long last, it was Alex’s turn, and he looked, for a moment as though he would toss the wreath into the bonfire and flee. His gaze sought out his mother’s; she gave him a nod. His gaze sought his father’s; the MacKinnon arched a dark brow in warning. Then, his gaze sought Elspeth’s, and he began, “I-I am… grateful… to…” His gaze sought Glenna’s, and the old woman shook her head. “Well…” He fidgeted. “Mayhap I’m verra grateful because… now…” He grinned. “There’ll be a younger MacKinnon than me, and here’s hoping he ain’t a lass!”

  Everyone laughed.

  “I’m not done,” complained Alex. And he said, “But mostly, I am grateful for my new sword…” He peered up at Malcom, smiling. “And my brother.” Then, he, too, ripped into the Yule bread, and with the bread firmly in his hands, he ran into the circle and did a happy dance. Everyone clapped joyfully, and the MacKinnon shouted:

  Here’s tae the heath, the hill and the heather,

  The bonnet, the plaid, the kilt and the feather!

  The End

  Happy Yule, everyone! My love to you, and long may your lum reek (may you never be without fuel for your fire). Turn the page for a Yuletide recipe for sun bread.

  Also by Tanya Anne Crosby

  Have you read all the Highland Brides, the Guardians of the Stone and the Daughters of Avalon? While it’s not necessary to read all three series to enjoy any one book, all books are related with shared characters.

  These books are Also available as Audiobooks

  Start with The MacKinnon’s Bride FREE

  The Highland Brides

  The MacKinnon’s Bride

  Lyon’s Gift

  On Bended Knee

  Lion Heart

  Highland Song

  MacKinnon’s Hope

  A brand-new series

  Daughters of Avalon

  The King’s Favorite

  A Winter’s Rose

  Rhiannon

  The Guardians of the Stone

  Once Upon a Highland Legend

  Highland Fire

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  Highland Storm

  Maiden from the Mist

  The Medievals Heroes

  Once Upon a Kiss

  Angel Of Fire

  Viking’s Prize

  The Impostor Series

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  Redeemable Rogues

  Happily Ever After

  Perfect In My Sight

  McKenzie’s Bride

  Kissed by a Rogue

  Mischief & Mistletoe

  A Perfectly Scandalous Proposal

  Anthologies & Novellas

  Lady’s Man

  Married at Midnight

  The Winter Stone

  Romantic Suspense

  Speak No Evil

  Tell No Lies

  Leave No Trace

  Mainstream Fiction

  The Girl Who Stayed

  The Things We Leave Behind

  Redemption Song

  Everyday Lies

  About the Author

  Tanya Anne Crosby is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty novels. She has been featured in magazines, such as People, Romantic Times and Publisher’s Weekly, and her books have been translated into eight languages. Her first novel was published in 1992 by Avon Books, where Tanya was hailed as “one of Avon’s fastest rising stars.” Her fourth book was chosen to launch the company’s Avon Romantic Treasure imprint.

  Known for stories charged with emotion and humor and filled with flawed characters Tanya is an award-winning author, journalist, and editor, and her novels have garnered reader praise and glowing critical reviews. She and her writer husband split their time between Charleston, SC, where she was raised, and northern Michigan, where the couple make their home.

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  Chapter 1

  Chreagach Mhor, Scotland December 21, 1148

  Everyone said Alexander Ailbeart MacKinnon was tall for his age, though not so tall as his brother Malcom. According to everything Alex had ever heard, his brother was born braw. Malcom was gifted in everything he’d ever attempted. He could strike a mark with his bow from some unthinkable distance, and if he swung his axe,
it felled ten men. His hair was spun gold, his face made lassies swoon, and therefore, with so much to recommend him, it only stood to reason he could create works of art with his piss, and he could speak three languages, and put a blade through an apple-core from fifty paces away. Pphht!

  Of course, the first son must be the best and most beloved son—and yet, all this time, it was Alex here at home, splitting his Da’s wood and carrying his minny’s pails.

  Cursing beneath his breath, he carried in the heavy bucket, hoisting it up, atop the kitchen worktable for Glenna, wincing as a bit of the milk spilt over the edge onto the flour dusted table.

  The old woman peered down at him, arching a perfectly white brow. “Di’ ye wash your hands afore milking Nettie?” she asked charily.

  “Yes’m,” he said, sliding his hands behind his back.

  “Good lad,” she said, before returning her attention to the contents of her table, and Alex stood by, watching her work, amazed by the way her fingers so deftly braided the dough.

  “Are ye making Yule bread?”

  “Aye lad, I am.” She turned to give him a pointed look, waving a flour-crusted finger at him. “An’ ye best be thinkin’ what you’re most grateful for this year. There’ll be no hemmin’ and hawing, d’ y’ hear? There are wee ones aboot, who’ve naught so much as ye do, and you’ll surely think of just one thing to be thankful for.”

  Not Malcom, that’s for sure.

  Alex frowned. His sun-kissed copper bangs falling into his face and he swiped them away, annoyed by the thought of his eldest sibling. Never in his father’s presence would he say so, but, betimes, he called his brother a traitor. After all, hadn’t Malcom abandoned their clan, setting off to England, only to bend his knee to a usurper?

  “D’ y’ wish tae know what I’m grateful for?” asked Glenna.

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