Christmas At Hollywell (The Seldon Park Christmas Novella Book 4)

by Bethany Sefchick

  That was the difference between the two men, she decided as she watched Julian continue to study the room. Crossbury had not believed her capable of anything while Julian believed her capable of anything she set her mind to.

  "Oh, I approve." Julian waggled his eyebrows in her direction, breaking the tension that was growing between them. "Do you know what else I approve of wholeheartedly?" He snagged Catherine around the waist again and pulled her close so that she could feel the press of his erection into her stomach. The man was insatiable. Truly. Not that Catherine cared in the least. If anything, she enjoyed this part of him far too much.

  "What, exactly, do you approve of wholeheartedly?" she asked, suspecting that she already knew the answer.

  He cupped her breast through the fabric of her gown, making her gasp with need. "You in my bed," he growled as he bent to nibble at her neck. "Preferably as soon as possible." Then, as if to prove his point, he pulled her to him and ground his hips against hers, letting her know how thoroughly aroused he truly was.

  "At this hour of the day? Really? It is barely half three, last I checked." Not that Catherine was complaining. She was simply surprised. After all, Julian had already tumbled her twice today, once in the stables and again in the butler's pantry just after luncheon.

  "Now," he breathed as he bared her breast and took her already peeked nipple into his mouth. "And I don't care if it is half bloody three. I need you, Kitten. Now."

  Catherine wrapped her arms around Julian's neck as he scooped her up and held her close before striding across the room towards the set of doors that led to the conservatory and the lovely spiral staircase that would allow them the privacy of escaping to the second floor without being seen by the staff.

  "And you shall have me, Julian," she whispered as she nuzzled his neck. "For as long as you wish."

  Chapter Eight

  Christmas Eve had dawned clear and bright, the sun shining down so hotly even for late December that the thick layer of snow that had blanketed Hollywell was all but melted by the time night began to descend once again. Throughout the day, a parade of guests, most of them members of the local gentry, had begun to arrive. A select few were staying over for several days, along with other guests who were traveling to the castle from farther away. Others simply wanted a chance to view the magnificent grounds for themselves and note how things had changed. After all, Hollywell had not been open to guests since her parents had transferred ownership to Crossbury and Catherine could not blame them for being curious.

  After all, she had been here far more recently than any of them and it was that same curiosity that had driven her here as well.

  And directly into Julian's arms. Not to mention his bed.

  They had spent much of the previous afternoon together, only emerging briefly last evening to dine together and make certain all of the final preparation were ready for the ball, as well as to make certain that the servants knew their places and their roles. Neither Julian nor Catherine should have worried, for the staff was well trained and by the time the clock struck seven in the evening, not even a single glass ball on the newly installed Christmas trees that dotted each corner of the four massive ballrooms was out of place.

  After that, both of them had seemed to recognize that the evening that spread out before them was likely their last night together and they had taken full advantage of every moment. Seeming to sense her urgency, Julian had taught Catherine so much about pleasure and passion, one hour of the night seeming to blend into the next as they came together, sharing their bodies and souls like old, familiar lovers.

  Now, as she sat before her dressing table, Catherine recognized that she could spend a lifetime in Julian's arms and still never learn all she desired to know about love and passion.

  For she was just that - in love. Catherine was in love with Julian Valette. Likely she had been since that very first night he had dumped her from his arms into his foyer and demanded to know her name. Since she had never been in love before, nor even had an inkling of what love felt like, Catherine hadn't been able to watch for the sneaky emotion and take care not to let herself fall into that oldest of traps for women like her. Instead, love had stolen over her while she slept and while she dreamed of Julian, while she lay in his arms and pleasured him in his bed.

  Now? She was an older woman who was wholly and completely in love with her much younger lover. A man she could never have as her own and who would one day belong to someone else. And there was not a damn thing she could do about it.

  So she had done what little she could to protect herself from the evening to come. She had worn the last of the Madame LaVallier creations she had packed in her trunks, this one a daring emerald and gold gown that dipped dangerously low in the front and even more scandalously low in the back. It was a gown that Crossbury certainly never would have approved of and she wasn't all that certain Julian would like seeing her wear in public either. In private and for him alone? That he most certainly would approve of, she suspected. He would probably enjoy her even more out of it.

  However, the silken frock was her last and only defense against the evening to come, this gown that she had chosen as a sign of her newfound strength and her refusal to blend into the background any longer. For tonight would likely be the last time she touched Julian in any fashion. They would dance together and then they would part. The prying eyes of Society were now within Hollywell. Before? Well, she could pretend that Society and the rest of the world didn't exist, but no longer. And once those prying eyes were allowed inside? The fairy tale romance she had enjoyed ended. Every single moment of it. And with it, her sugar-spun, fragile dreams of something that was never meant to be anyway.

  "Come in," she called as a knock sounded at her door. She was not surprised when she turned to see Julian there in his evening clothes looking so very handsome and yet so very uncomfortable at the same time.

  This was a side of him that she had not seen and she didn't much care for it. Julian was strong and decisive. He was never weak or nervous. He never lost control. Ever. That he appeared to be out of control now was not a good portent of things to come.

  "Kitten. You look exquisite." The words were what she desired to hear, but the heat was absent from Julian's voice and as she studied him, Catherine knew that the fairy tale was ending. Now. She could swear she almost felt her heart shatter in her chest.

  She knew this was how it had to be. Had expected their relationship to end this way. But that didn't mean this parting hurt any less. If anything, now that she knew that she loved him she simply hurt all the more.

  "Thank you, Julian." Catherine tried to smile brightly but she knew her expression was more one of wistful sadness than anything. "You are as handsome as always, though I am certain you know that already."

  He shuffled from one foot to the other, still looking lost. "I do my best." He cleared his throat and in that moment, Catherine's heart broke completely - or what was left of it anyway. She had been wrong on another count as well. Their good-bye would not be later in public on the dance floor. It would be here and now in private, safely within her temporary chambers. Fitting, she supposed, that an affair begun in secrecy ended the same way.

  "I know what you would say." Catherine reached out and took his gloved hand in hers. "This is the end of our affair. We both knew going in that this would likely end abruptly when the guests arrived."

  Julian closed his eyes and she wondered if it was so that she would not see the pain there. It was too late. She had already glimpsed his anguish when he had entered, reflected back at her in her dressing mirror. "I wish that it did not have to be so. I wish that we had more time. There is still so much that I want to show you, Kitten, to do with you and to teach you." When he opened his eyes again, there was anger mixed with something else in their depths as well as the pain. She needed to diffuse this situation before it became any worse. Or more painful for her.

  "You have done as you promised me you would, Julian. You have taug
ht me passion." Her eyes were bright now with unshed tears and she prayed that she would not cry. "It might not seem like much to you, I know, but it is enough. I can ask for nothing more. You have given me more than any other man ever has and for that, I do not have the words to thank you."

  Julian looked so handsome standing there in his black eveningclothes that Catherine wanted to damn them both and simply drag him into her bed. But she would not be so crass. He had made no promises beyond what he had given her already, and it was not his fault if she had fallen in love with him. That was squarely on her.

  "We should not dance together," he finally said, and Catherine realized that it was simply another way to protect himself from her. From the tender emotions he likely feared that she felt for him and he did not return.

  They had shared so much of themselves over the last few days, particularly the previous afternoon when they had confessed secrets to each other, just as lovers always did when their love was new and growing. Catherine had felt so close to Julian then, cradled in his arms as he kissed her temple and stroked her breasts, all the while teasing her and reminding her to behave. He had been passionate and playful and everything she could ever want in a lover - or a husband.

  There was a part of her that had hoped this illusion could last, that she could have her Christmas miracle, but, in her head, she knew better. She had been given a gift, one she had always known would be taken away from her in the end. Now was that time. It was time to let Julian go.

  She nodded stiffly, though her heart lay broken in her chest. She doubted it would ever be whole again. "Agreed. Already there are whispers that I was here during the storm and that we might have formed some sort of attachment. The young ladies in attendance, as well as their mothers are not pleased, and likely one of them will attempt to murder me with a dessert fork if I even so much as present you with my dance card." Catherine knew her attempt at a joke had fallen flat when Julian did not even crack a smile.

  He always laughed at her jokes, no matter how terrible they were. It was yet another way that he was a far better man than Crossbury had ever been. And yet another reason that she loved him.

  "No, that will not do," Julian agreed just as stiffly, the light going out of his eyes entirely. "We will speak later, of course. Say our final farewells. But for now, I think we can both agree that this...affair is at an end, can we not?"

  Catherine felt her already broken heart shatter into millions more tiny pieces within her chest, like the finest grains of sand. No, she would never recover from this pain. "We can, yes. Of course. I had hoped for a longer good-bye, maybe another kiss, but perhaps this is the best way. Yes," she nodded firmly knowing she was mimicking his words and not caring, "I am certain that it is. Clean and neat."

  "Precisely." Julian gave a sharp nod in return, his face a blank mask where normally it was so very expressive and full of life. "So I shall see you downstairs then?"

  "In a bit," she replied as he barely waited for her to respond before striding back through the door that connected their suites and taking with him the shattered remains of her heart. It was his to keep, of course, even though he had made it plain that he did not want it. Catherine had no use for the offending organ any longer so might as well take it with him.

  As he walked away from her, Julian never turned back to look at her, and Catherine was relieved in a way. For if he had, he would have seen not only the tears slipping silently down her cheeks but also he would have witnessed Catherine put her head in her hands and sob silently. Something she had not done since she was eighteen and her father had entered her bedroom and announced that she was now betrothed to the extremely elderly Earl of Crossbury.

  If Julian had even for a moment thought that simply letting Catherine go from his life would be easy, he had been wrong. Very, very wrong. Actually, walking away from her as she sobbed silently in her bedchamber was one of the most difficult things he had ever done. In fact, that single, miserable act might very well be the end of him.

  Tonight Catherine was lovelier than he had even imagined she could be. In her chambers, he had been unable or unwilling to notice how the gown she wore clung so beautifully to her lush curves or how the fabric seemed to shimmer and sparkle as she moved. He hadn't noticed the strand of emeralds at her throat or the matching diamond and emerald pins in her honey-colored hair that was pinned up in elaborate curls, only a few tresses falling free to swirl enchantingly about her neck.

  Nor had he noticed how almost scandalously low her gown dipped in the front, revealing far too much of her delectable breasts for his liking. He had kissed those breasts, caressed them. He had teased and tasted her nipples. Even a shadowy glimpse of her breasts should be reserved for him and him alone and, irrationally, he wished to put out the eyes of any man who even so much as glanced in her direction.

  "If it bothers you that much to see her with another man, just go to her and claim her as yours. It is not as if half the guests here do not already suspect as much." That pronouncement came from Bow Street Runner Harry Greer. Greer had appeared at Julian's door just as the ball began with news from London that Julian's claim on the De La Croix title had been validated. He was now, officially, the Comte De La Croix once again. He had regained his title and his place in the aristocracy, along with the few pieces of the estate that Gaston had been able to pilfer before Julian had put a stop to things.

  Now, Julian would be welcomed into London society with open arms, or so Greer, who was known to be a messenger for Candlewood as well as a man with secrets of his own, had informed Julian in a rather droll tone. From the Runner's expression, it was not exactly clear if this welcoming into the bosom of the ton was a good thing or not. Julian assumed that it was. Maybe. Or not.

  Immediately, Julian had wanted to run and inform Catherine of the good news but he hadn't been able to do so, for by the time Greer had departed to get settled into his chambers for the evening and change for the ball himself, the fete was already well underway - and Catherine was dancing with another man.

  Just as she was right now.

  "She isn't mine to claim." Julian's expression was sour. That did not mean, however, his fingers did not itch to snatch her away from the local baron who was holding her far too close for his liking.

  "And I am not in love with a woman I cannot have and whose brother would likely string me up from the nearest tree if he even suspected that I held these feelings for her." Greer shook his head in disgust. "Do not pretend with me, Valette." Julian had requested that, for now anyway, people still refer to him by that name until an official announcement regarding his title could be made. "You have been gifted an opportunity that few men ever are. You have the woman you love in your home and likely in your bed. And Society will not utter a peep about it, given your stations in life. Go to her. You love her, so make your claim upon her known." Then he snickered. "And after that? If you wish to disappear abovestairs? Well, I shall not tell a soul."

  "I don't love her." Julian's response was quick to his tongue, even though his gut twisted as he watched her promenade with a different partner through the steps of a country dance.

  Greer twisted his lips in disgust. "Do you feel as if you are about to cast up your accounts when you look at her with another man? Does your head pound as you watch her dancing with another man? Would you consider that same man a friend in other circumstances but at present you wish to break his neck? All because he is holding her?"

  "Yes." Julian was not quite certain what Greer was getting at. "All of it."

  "Then you, my friend, are in love." The Runner seemed quite certain about that.

  Julian, however, was not quite as certain. "It rather sounds more like being ill."

  Greer shrugged dispassionately. "Sometimes, it is. And love is not always pleasant, at least not at first. But love is always worth the pain and the fight. For love is what we all seek, even if we can't admit it, even to ourselves." He clapped Julian on the back. "Best of luck with that, for I think that yo
u may need more than a little of it if you are to win your lady back to your side and your bed. Though she does love you. And you her. So you have that in your favor." Then the Runner was gone, disappearing into the crowd headed in the direction of the smaller ballroom and the refreshment tables.

  Watching Catherine take a break from the dancing to accept a glass of punch from yet another potential suitor, Julian felt the bile rise in his throat again. Was this love? This painful, awful feeling that was eating him alive from within every time he saw Catherine, his Kitten, with another man? Greer implied that it was, but then, what did Greer know of such things?

  "A dance, my lord?"

  Julian looked up to see a young lady, a Miss Phipps he believed her name was, standing in front of him rather brashly her dance card in her hands. Young ladies did not ask eligible young gentlemen to dance, but this chit clearly had no qualms about breaking the rules. From the corner of his eye, Julian saw that Catherine had accepted another invitation to dance. Very well. If she could play this game, if she did not care whom he was dancing with, then neither did he.

  "Brazen. I like that in a lady," Julian replied though without his usual teasing. Instead, he offered the words as if they were the expected response - which they were. "Come. I believe another country dance is scheduled."

  As he escorted the young woman onto the floor, he was vaguely aware of her endless stream of chatter that had begun the very moment he took her arm. Having been around no one but Catherine for so long as of late, Julian had quickly forgotten just how annoying a creature such as this one could be.

  "...and I think this room would look delightful in yellow, don't you agree?" Apparently the chit had been speaking at length about how she would change the color of the ballroom. The bile rose in Julian's throat again and he felt the same churning in his gut that he had earlier. "After all, this room is so plain and yellow is all the rage these days. In fact, if I were mistress here, I would renovate everything. It is just so drab and...old. Ick. A complete redecoration from top to bottom. Starting with the removal of that hideous main staircase. Sea images! Honestly! What were they thinking?"