Sheâd wanted to go to the Christmas Eve services.  After thatâŚAfter that, he would ask her, make it formal. She would say yes, he knew. And thenâŚ
Why, then, they would come home, to a house dark and private. With themselves alone, on a night of sacrament and secret, with love newly come into the world. And he would lift her in his arms and carry her upstairs, on a night when virginityâs sacrifice was no loss of purity, but rather the birth of everlasting joy.
âRoger in Drums of Autumn, Chapter 17
âWhat if I tell you a story, instead?â Â Highlanders loved stories, and Jamie was no exception.
âOh, aye,â he said, sounding much happier. âWhat sort of story is it?â
âA Christmas story,â I said, settling myself along the curve of his body. âAbout a miser named Ebenezer Scrooge.â
âAn Englishman, I daresay?â
âYes,â I said. âBe quiet and listen.â
I could see my own breath as I talked, white in the dim, cold air. The snow was falling heavily outside our shelter; when I paused in the story, I could hear the whisper of flakes against the hemlock branches, and the far-off whine of wind in the trees.
â-Jamie & Claire in Drums of Autumn, Chapter 21
âWhatâs the occasion? For our homecoming?â
She lifted her head from his chest and gave him what he privately classified as A Look.
âFor Christmas,â she said.
âWhat?â He groped blankly, trying to count the days, but the events of the last three weeks had completely erased his mental calendar.
âTomorrow, idiot,â she said with exaggerated patience.
âBrianna & Roger in Fiery Cross, Chapter 33
Catholic as many of them wereâand nominally Christian as they all wereâHighland Scots regarded Christmas primarily as a religious observance, rather than a major festive occasion. Lacking priest or minister, the day was spent much like a Sunday, though with a particularly lavish meal to mark the occasion, and the exchange of small gifts.
âClaire in Fiery Cross, Chapter 34
âAye, well, it is Christmas Eve,â she said, answering his unasked question. âAny man wiâ a home to go toâs in it.â She yawned, pulled off her nightcap, and fluffed her fingers through the wild mass of curly dark hair.
âYet you seem to have some custom,â he observed. Distant singing came from two floors below, and the parlor had seemed well populated when he passed.
âOch, aye. The desperate ones. I leave them to Maybelle to deal with; dinna like to see them, poor creatures. Pitiful. They dinna really want a woman, the ones who come on Christmas Eveâonly a fire to sit by, and folk to sit with.â
âLord John & Nessie in Echo in the Bone, Chapter 24
âWell, that is odd,â Rachel said, turning to look first at her brother, and then at the small clock that graced their rooms. âWho goes a-visiting at nine oâclock on Christmas night? It cannot be a Friend, surely?â For Friends did not keep Christmas and would find the feast no bar to travel, but the Hunters had no connectionsânot yetâwith the Friends of any Philadelphia meeting.
A thump of footsteps on the staircase prevented Denzellâs reply, and an instant later the door of the room burst open. The fur-clad woman stood on the threshold, white as her furs.
âDenny?â she said in a strangled voice.
âRachel & Dottie in Echo in the Bone, Chapter 86
Theyâd brought down the Yule log to the house that afternoon, all the household taking part, the women bundled to the eyebrows, the men ruddy, flushed with the labor, staggering, singing, dragging the monstrous log with ropes, its rough skin packed with snow, a great furrow left where it passed, the snow plowed high on either side.
âJamie in The Scottish Prisoner, Chapter 43