Thaddeus
I stared blankly at the teapot. There would be no breakfast or tea poured for Euphemia this morning—no flimsy excuse about needing an update on the work completed in the house.
We’d circled her croft last night, raged at the moon, then dozed beneath a tree beside her home.
I lifted my teacup, only to stare at her empty chair, and put it down again.
Wulfric scratched at my chest, urging me to march down there and take her.
It is not that simple, I insisted.
She is our mate, he hissed back.
I felt a pang of sorrow, but it wasn't mine. I rubbed my chest, hoping she could feel me as I felt her.
This was why I dreaded leaving the cottage. The simple answer would have been to whisk her away and keep her to myself. But that would not have made my mate happy. Not without her family.
I wandered the house like a stray until I reached the parlour and saw the packages and wooden crates from my parents. When I opened them up, it triggered an idea.
It was Christmas in a few days' time.
I could win her family over by then.
Before I rushed off to speak to the household staff, I noticed a letter poking out from one of the crates. It wasn't my father’s handwriting, but my mother's. I plucked the cream envelope and instantly smiled as the scent drifted toward me.
Roses.
My mother’s favourite.
God. What an absolute arse I’d been to my parents.
I pried the envelope open and read the contents.
My dearest Thaddeus,
I pray this letter finds you in good health, and that the northern air has not thinned you too terribly. Your father assures me you are well enough, though I know how little stock you put in such reassurances when your mind is otherwise occupied.
He tells me you have found a potential Scottish bride. Pray, do write and tell me about her. I should dearly like to know the young woman who has finally managed to draw you from yourself.
Are you eating properly? I have sent a few of your favourites, along with the tea you requested. You always did forget meals when something had your full attention.
I have also enclosed several dresses I thought might suit Euphemia.
They are of the latest fashion the ton is presently enamoured with, though I am certain a local seamstress will make any necessary adjustments.
I hope she will not find them presumptuous—only a small welcome from one woman to another.
As you mentioned there are young children in her household, I took the liberty of sending along some of your old toys from the attic. They have sat untouched for years, and it seems only right they should bring joy again rather than gather dust.
You asked, somewhat cautiously, after Christmas decorations.
I have included a modest selection: greenery, ribbons, candles, and a few ornaments your grandmother favoured.
Nothing ostentatious. Just enough to mark the season quietly, should you wish it.
Traditions, even when frowned upon, have a way of keeping the heart steady. I trust you will use your discretion.
Above all, my dear son, take care of yourself. And of her.
You have always carried more than you needed to alone.
With all my love,
Mother
I took a few steadying breaths and reread the letter.
This was what I had needed. Acceptance.
I had never allowed myself to consider what might happen if my parents rejected my choice of bride. Or whether they might simply be grateful that I had chosen someone—anyone at all.
But my mother’s gracious acceptance was more than I’d dared hope for.
It settled something deep in my chest.
It gave me hope.
I folded the letter and slipped it into my pocket. I would reply to my mother before the day was out.
Today, I would begin the work of bringing Christmas back to Eilidh Manor.
The celebrations had been suppressed for nearly four hundred years. People had learned not to mark the day—had learned not to question it—even if no one could say why anymore. The kirk had never approved of such indulgences.
No one would stop me from making this winter special for Euphemia and her family.
? ? ?
When the heavy thuds outside the library door finally stopped, I glanced at the time.
Perfect.
Callum had arrived.
I placed the book on my desk and went to open the door.
“Huv’ ye lost yer mind?” he exclaimed. “The church willnae look too kindly tae ye wi’ all those Christmas decorations aroon yer hoose.”
I shrugged.
“Everyone will have a day off on Christmas Day at Eilidh Manor.”
His mouth fell open, and I almost smiled until I remembered what was at stake.
“I would have come over to you, but I wasn’t certain of my welcome,” I said, waving him over to take a seat.
“It’s yur property,” he said with a shrug.
“I wanted to apologise for not trying harder to get a message to you. When the snow piled up, it became near impossible after that.”
“Aye, Euphemia telt us that,” he said, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Why don’t you want your niece to marry me?”
“Ah dinnae ken ye or yer family. Ye dinnae even huv a clan that I can check out,” he said calmly, in a matter-of-fact way. “I promised ma brother that I’d look after his weans like they wur ma ain.”
I nodded solemnly.
“My family does have roots here in the Shetlands. I believe our name was Wulverson before it became Wulverton. Surely you can’t hold it against me because some of my family, historically, went to live in England?”
“And how wud yer family react tae huvin’ a Scotswoman married tae their only heir?” he asked, leaning over my desk.
The chair creaked beneath his bulky weight.
“My mother has already sent her some gifts,” I said softly.
“And if ye had a daughter,” he pressed, “wud ye let her marry someone like yersel?”
Wulfric began to growl, and I coughed to smother the sound.
I closed my eyes and imagined a red-haired, brown-eyed child.
My daughter.
My blood.
With a slow sigh, I shook my head.
“No one would be good enough for my daughter.”
His lips tugged at one corner.
“So ye see ma dilemma?”
I did—and I did not like it.
Not one bit.
“She chose me,” I said, unwilling to yield. “This is something we both want.”
“Aye, an’ that’s no’ like her,” he muttered, his bushy red brows nearly colliding. “Ah dinnae ken what kind o’ dark magic ye spun.”
“Mayhap there’s more to me than you know,” I replied evenly.
He leaned back in his chair and studied me.
“Perhaps.”
It was the only concession I won—but I would take it.