The holidays are approaching; please enjoy this nudge toward getting "in the mood"!
*****
When Sydney awoke to her first Norwegian Christmas, Nicolas was
already downstairs with John wrestling the huge pine Yule log into the drawing
room fireplace.
“It’s tradition,” he explained. “Vikings used to celebrate the
passing of the shortest day of the year with the longest fire they could burn.
Now it’s part of our Christmas tradition.”
Sydney helped Addie prepare pinnekjøtt
from lamb ribs that were salted and smoked last summer. They would steam for
the next few hours in a pot with small stripped branches, until the meat
actually fell off the bones. While the ribs cooked, Sydney propped up her feet
and watched Addie make rice pudding. Nicolas kept coming to steal tastes and
Addie kept smacking his hand with her spoon.
“Don’t forget the almond!” he admonished. “Whoever gets the almond
in their pudding will have good luck throughout the year!”
Nicolas stepped behind Sydney, leaned down, and wrapped his arms
above her belly. “My year will be lucky no matter who gets the almond.”
His soft lips, amidst the prickle of his beard, nuzzled her neck.
Gooseflesh rippled down her arms. She wished she could drag him back to bed to
play, even though her own pleasure was weeks in the future.
At a little past eleven o’clock that night, Nicolas descended the
stairs with a sleepy Stefan in his arms. Sydney waited below in her cloak. She
had just been to the privy—again—and still felt the chill of the December
night.
“Is Julenisse here?” Stefan rubbed his eyes.
“I’ve not seen him yet. Are you certain you were a good boy this
year?” Nicolas teased, setting him on the floor.
Stefan nodded, his auburn hair flopping in his face. “Real, real good!”
“Well, perchance he’ll come while we’re at church.” Sydney
suggested. She ruffled Stefan’s hair. “Do you need to use the privy?”
Stefan yawned, shaking his head.
“Let’s go then!” Nicolas herded his family out the front door.
A three-quarter moon shone on snow that twinkled with a million
stars. Sleigh blades slid over the snow with a soft hiss, the team’s hoofbeats
hushed by the frozen fleece. The jangle of tack rang loud in the frigid air.
Stefan snuggled between his pappa and his new mamma.
Tonight, entering the school and church building held no fear for
Sydney. She considered her new Nordic-god husband and was certain it never
would again.
“Onkel Rick!” Stefan bounced to his uncle as soon as they
walked through the door. “Merry Christmas! Did you bring me anything?”
“Of course!” Rick pulled a bag of peppermint candies from his
pocket. “Make them last, do you hear? And don’t forget your Tante Lily!”
Stefan waved at Lily. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Mamma, look what Onkel Rick gave me!” He showed Sydney the
bag. “Can I have one now?”
Nicolas leaned over. “Did you say thank you?”
A horrified look came over Stefan’s face and he bolted back to his
uncle. “Thank you, Onkel Rick!”
His urgent voice pulled Rickard’s rapt attention from Miss Bronwyn
Price. “You’re welcome, Stefan.”
Stefan returned to Sydney, but his eyes slid sideways to his
father. “Now can I?”
Nicolas answered him. “Yes. Sit down and be quiet then, the service
is going to start.”
Stefan sat next to Sydney and carefully unwrapped one piece of the
precious candy. He slipped it into his mouth and his eyes closed in childish
ecstasy. With a contented sigh, he pulled his feet up on the bench and leaned
over. Resting his head on Sydney’s stomach, he received a kick from his
surrogate pillow. Unfazed, he patted her belly.
Sydney’s composure quavered at his simple acceptance. She slid much
more easily into Stefan’s life than she had into his father’s; now he casually
comforted her unborn babe.
The immensity of being the only mother Stefan would ever know made
her feel very small and very incapable. She closed her eyes and thought of
Lara. Would she approve of Sydney as a wife for Nicolas? Would she trust Sydney
to raise her son? She closed her eyes
and crossed herself, finding the familiar motion reassuring.
With God’s help I’ll do my best for both of them, Lara. I promise.
The burden eased and a sense of goodwill
infused her core the way candlelight infuses darkness. She ran her fingers
through Stefan’s hair as one tear rolled down her cheek.
Nicolas’s finger brushed it away. “Is something amiss?”
She nodded toward Stefan.
His eyes dropped to his son, tunelessly humming as he rested
against Sydney’s bulge and patted its restless inhabitant. When his eyes
returned to hers, they sparkled with moisture.
The last notes of the Christmas Eve service dissipated. Worshippers
filed out slowly, calling ‘Merry Christmas’ to each other before dispersing to
their far-flung homes. Rickard was one of the last to leave. He kissed the back
of Miss Price’s hand.
“He’s smitten.” Sydney held Nicolas’s arm. “And he has a bad case!”
“It’s about time. I was beginning to wonder about him.” Nicolas
helped Sydney into the landau.
“Pappa, do you believe Julenisse
came yet?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Nicolas’s mouth
twitched. “Do you think he knows you forgot to thank your Onkel Rick for
the candy?”
“Stop that!” Sydney laughed and smacked
Nicolas on the thigh.
At the manor, Stefan jumped out of the carriage and ran to the
door. He pushed it open and could not be bothered to close it.
Nicolas helped Sydney down and kept her from slipping as they
mounted the porch steps. Stefan reappeared, radiating excitement.
“He came! He came!” Stefan bounded out the door. “Look what he
brought me!”
Stefan held out a pair of carved wooden horses painted to look like
Fyrste and Sessa. Nicolas looked down at Sydney with amazed appreciation. She
gave him a self-satisfied smile.
“Did he?” He turned back to Stefan. “And is that all that you
found?”
Stefan disappeared again. Nicolas and Sydney followed, closing the
front door.
“Look at this!” Stefan held up two jointed wooden knights. They
were painted like Knights of Norway. They were a little too large for the
horses, but Stefan was already setting up a jousting match on the drawing room
floor.
“Son, I’m glad Julenisse
came tonight. But you’ll have to wait until morning to play. Go upstairs and
get into bed.”
Reluctant to relinquish his new toys, Stefan did so without
complaint only when Nicolas told him he could eat one more peppermint while he
undressed. Sydney eased herself to the settee. The staircase was daunting when
she was this laden and this tired.
Nicolas grinned at her like a lizard with a mouthful of cricket. “Julenisse brought something for you, as
well. Wait here.”
He strode from the drawing room. Once he was out of sight, Sydney
awkwardly retrieved Nicolas’s gift from her sewing basket on the floor and
tucked it behind her back.
“Close your eyes!”
The command came from the hallway. Sydney heard the floorboards
complain as Nicolas crossed the room. She felt something heavy come to rest in
front of her. “You can look now.”
“Oh, Nicolas! Did you make this?” Sydney ran her hands over the
carved maple-wood cradle. It was large and sturdy, and it rocked easily.
“See this?” Nicolas pointed to an extra piece of wood on one of the
rockers. “This is so you can rock it with your foot.”
“I’ve never seen such a beautiful cradle! What are the carvings?”
“Norse mythology. I’ll tell the child stories as he grows.”
“I am certain she will love that!” Sydney laughed, reaching for
Nicolas. “Thank you!”
Several lingering kisses later, Sydney pulled the pliable bundle
from behind her back before his delicious attention made her forget it was
there.
“Now it’s your turn.”
Nicolas untied the ribbon that held a roll of fabric. Two shirts of
soft brushed cotton unfurled before him, both with elaborate stitching and
pleating.
He wiggled the fabric between his fingers. “This material is so
soft. Where did you get such a thing?”
“A peddler came by while you were hunting. I was only going to make
baby clothes from it, but I struck a deal with him and got the whole bolt.” She
grinned up into his beautiful eyes. “You deserved to be pampered some as well.”
“Thank you, min presang.”
Nicolas kissed her
again—very thoroughly—and she was transported. She inhaled the scent of him and
nestled into his arms. She was so contented that she felt she could float up
the stairs; her bulging womb would pose no impediment at all.
Find A WOMAN OF CHOICE on Amazon.
.jpg)
