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

by Bethany Sefchick

  Julian almost cast up his accounts right there, and was thankful when, after a few bars of music, it was time to change partners already. Removing the Seaside Stairs? Impossible! They were as much a part of Hollywell as the holly itself! Surely the chit was jesting!

  However, the more he changed partners, the more Julian came to the conclusion that she likely had not been. For each of his partners had even greater and more extensive plans to renovate Hollywell if - though the when part was also implied - she became mistress of this castle. Each young lady was more horrible than the last and suddenly, all Julian could see was a future full of inane conversations and castle renovations and great gobs of money spent on gowns and fripperies. And all of that would not matter so much if there was love.

  But there was not.

  For the only woman he could imagine in his future, the only woman that he thought he could love was Catherine.

  Correction. He did love Catherine. He had from the first. There was no longer any question in his mind. It had simply taken a parade of the worst sort of ninnies to make him realize the truth.

  Breaking away from his current partner, Julian stumbled to the corner to get some air, his chest heaving and his breath coming in gasps. It seemed that Greer was correct after all. Being in love was rather a lot like being ill.

  When the first strains of a waltz began, Julian felt even worse. In fact, it felt as if someone was ripping out his heart from deep within his chest and smashing it to bits on the ballroom floor before stomping all over what remained. Catherine - his lovely, beautiful, exquisite Kitten - was on the other side of the room and had already accepted an invitation to dance with another man, this one a viscount close to her age who had lost his own wife nearly four years previous. Meaning that the man was out of mourning. Meaning that he might be on the hunt for another woman to serve as mother to his six young children without every giving that woman a child of her own. A woman like Catherine.

  Together they moved onto the floor and the gentleman took Catherine into his arms. She looked up at him and smiled. With the first step of the waltz, the viscount pulled her slightly closer. Julian saw Catherine shift in his arms, move back away from him. But with each move away, the viscount pulled her back. Closer and closer until she was scandalously close. So close that if anyone remarked upon it, the two might be forced to wed. Which was, Julian realized, precisely what the man had planned.

  Suddenly, an almost blinding rage overtook Julian, similar to the one he had experienced that first night Catherine had arrived at Hollywell. Without thought, he stomped into the middle of the floor, pushing guests aside and causing a general commotion of the worst sort, not that he gave a bloody damn. He heard the gasps and whispers all around him, the scandalized voices of his guests as he pushed through the crowd, but Julian did not care. All he cared about was reaching Catherine and making this right. He cared about correcting his mistake and claiming her as his own, professing his love before it was too late. If it was not too late already.

  He could not lose her, not when he had finally discovered that she meant more to him than anything else in his life. That he loved her - completely and irrevocably - with all of his heart and soul.

  "Valette?" The viscount paused in his steps and loosened his grip on Catherine as Julian approached, the surprise in his voice clear. As was the guilty look in his eyes since it was clear Julian knew what the other man had been about. "Can we help you with something?" He raised Catherine's hand in his. "The lady and I were just getting acquainted."

  Julian stood haughtily before the couple, the rest of the room falling silent and still around them. Everyone was watching him. Watching Catherine. Watching them. For once, he did not care. For as of today, he was the Comte De La Croix once more, and even if he was not, he still did not give a bloody damn about anyone else. Only Catherine. She was the only one who mattered. The only one who ever would.

  He held out his hand to Catherine, praying that she would take it and not make him look more the fool than he already did. He could see the sadness in her eyes, knew that he had hurt her, possibly beyond repair. He prayed that, in time, she would forgive him. That she could learn to love him. Just as he loved her. "My lady?"

  She stood stiffly at the viscount's side, though she was no longer in his arms, much to Julian's relief. "You expect me to accompany you?"

  "I do." He nodded succinctly. "For you are mine, Catherine St. John Oakley, dowager Countess of Crossbury. And after watching you with these other gentlemen this evening, I find that I cannot let you go. I was a fool to ever believe that I could."

  Surprising everyone, Julian reached out and clasped Catherine's hand in his and then pulled her to him for a quick kiss before scooping her up in his arms and striding out of the ballroom while all hell broke loose behind them.

  Chapter Nine

  This was not, precisely, how Catherine had imagined her Christmas Eve ending. In fact, the last thing she had expected was to be quite literally swept off of her feet and hauled out of the ballroom like a sack of potatoes. "Julian, you may put me down now!" she all but demanded as he strode through the halls of Hollywell with her in his arms. "Really. This is going a bit far, don't you think? You have made your point and caused enough of a scene."

  "No, I do not believe that I have," he ground out as he passed darkened rooms before striding up the Seaside Stairs towards the family wing of the castle. "In fact, I have not even begun to cause nearly the sort of scene that I would like."

  She had no idea what that meant but decided that it was likely not good.

  Around her, Catherine could smell the pine, rosemary and bay that scented the castle. In the flickering light of the candles, she caught glimpses of the kissing boughs she and Julian had ordered placed about in anticipation of the ball. Red ribbons were festooned everywhere, along with small jars filled with finely ground glass meant to catch and reflect the candlelight. This was precisely how she had imagined her final Christmas at Hollywell taking shape.

  Well, except for being carted about the castle as if she was some sort of war prize.

  "Julian, please." Catherine tried again as they reached the top of the staircase. "Everyone is likely staring." She didn't know that for certain, of course, but she was relatively sure that some servant somewhere had begun to spread the word of Julian's actions. In the distance, she could hear doors opening and closing. "You will cause a scandal."

  "What if that is precisely what I wish to do?" he asked through gritted teeth. "For if you think this is a scandal, my lady, then you truly do not know what a scandal is." He shifted her weight in his arms, though he did not put her on her feet just yet. "A scandal is what my cousin did, snatching away my family title and fleecing the peerage out of coin and lodging. A scandal is him fleeing to America or the Continent or wherever the bloody hell he has hared off to as of late. A scandal is a young lady being sold like horseflesh to a man old enough to be her grandfather who did not love her and hoped to use her as a pawn in his foolish games. A scandal is a lecherous viscount about to do the very same thing so his brood of children will have a mother even though he cares not a wit for the lady or her feelings."

  "Julian." Catherine was afraid that her voice would break. She had never seen him this angry or upset - over anything. "I would not have married that man. Viscount Tremblay is a nice man, but that is all. I am well aware of what he desired of me. I am no fool."

  Julian, however, continued on as if she hadn't even spoken. "You deserve so much more than that, Catherine. You should be worshipped and loved and adored and treated as the goddess you are. You deserve the world from the man lucky enough to be graced with your presence in his life."

  For a moment, Catherine felt her heart tremble in her chest. Did Julian truly have feelings for her? His words indicated that he might. Did she dare hope? Or did he simply crave her body in his bed?

  However before she could contemplate his words further, they stopped outside of his chambers. Catherine thought Jul
ian might put her down then, but he did not. Instead, he kicked open the door with his foot and then strode into his room before placing her far more gently than she had anticipated on the bed before pulling away to secure the room.

  Catherine watched him through guarded eyes as he set about locking all of the doors to his chambers, including the one that connected his suite to hers. "So we shall not be disturbed before I am ready," he replied to her unspoken question.

  "And what if I desire to leave now?" She needed to know just how far gone he was into this madness that seemed to be consuming him.

  Julian paused and he seemed uncertain now, some of his earlier rage draining away. "Then I would allow you leave immediately if you wish it, Kitten. You are not a prisoner here, Catherine, despite my deplorable behavior just now. Though I would request that you hear me out first." He turned around and leaned back against the door, his hand gripping the knob so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His hair was mussed, his cravat loosened, and, more importantly, his eyes were full of pain. This was not the calm and controlled Julian Valette she had come to know these last few days. "Please, Kitten. Allow me to explain. I do so wish that you would."

  Catherine arched an eyebrow at him as she stood up, though she saw no reason to demand to leave just yet. One of them needed to keep a level head, and it clearly wasn't going to be him. "And you have an explanation for your behavior this evening?" Given the way he had kissed her moments ago in the ballroom, she desperately wished to believe that he still wanted her in his bed. In his life was too much to hope for, certainly, so she was ready to settle for whatever he would offer her. It was not a perfect solution, but it was better than living without him, scandal be damned. If he wished her to become his mistress? She would do so without hesitation.

  He bit his lower lip for a moment, as if uncertain once more. That was not the Julian she knew. Something must truly have him disturbed, though he was now noticeably calmer than he had been in the ballroom. More so than even a few minutes ago. "I do. But I don't quite know how to say the words or how to explain."

  "Then state it simply, Julian, for you have never had difficulty with your words to me before. What is it you want from me?" Catherine's heart pounded in her chest, for what if he spoke words that she did not wish to hear? What if he was going to send her away? She had seen him paying court to those other young ladies. What if he had selected one to be his wife? What if she had this all wrong?

  "I love you, Catherine. I think I have from that first night."

  She reached out and grabbed the bedpost for stability before she swooned - something she swore that she would never do. That was not at all what she had expected him to say. "You love me? Julian? Are you certain?" They were the words Catherine had so longed to hear over the last few days. However now that he had spoken them aloud, there was a part of her that cautioned that his pronouncement was too good to be true. "But earlier you said..."

  Julian slashed at the air with his hand, obviously frustrated. "I know what I said earlier. I was a fool. An idiot, if you prefer. I thought that I could live without you and that I did not love you. I was convinced that this parting was for the best, though why I had such a notion I cannot say, for you give me more joy than I have ever known in my life. Likely it is because I am a fool who cannot see what is plainly in front of his own face, something that he has wished for all of his life and never truly hoped to find."

  He swallowed hard and his eyes glittered like emeralds, full of passion and fire. "Perhaps because I feared that people would gossip, given what other scandals my cousin has done in my name. Or perhaps it is because I fear losing control above all else, thinking that no woman could love me once she truly knew me. Though I am the Comte De La Croix now, and yet I am still the man I have always been. And I do realize that proprieties should matter above all other things, even love. Yet I also find that I do not give a bloody damn. And even if I was not titled, I still would not care. Not as long as I had you in my arms and that you loved me in return. Or thought that you could learn to love me in time. I offered you passion, Catherine. Not my heart. But somehow, without realizing it, I gave you my heart anyway, even though I had not intended to so. But I did. And I love you. And I am so sorry. So very, very sorry it took me such a long time to understand that."

  Julian had never made such a lengthy speech in his life. He was used to his orders being obeyed with few words spoken. Then again, he had never had to beg for a woman's love before. Tonight he was begging with his very soul. And he would fall to his knees and beg again and again, if only Catherine would give him another chance. If only she would forgive him.

  Catherine was silent for a long time and Julian began to worry that she was furious with him. After all, he had all but kidnapped her from the middle of his ballroom and likely embarrassed her in front of at least some of her friends. Nor did he have any inkling whether or not his feelings were returned. He had simply witnessed her waltzing with the viscount and reacted. He had gone on instinct. Now, he feared that he had bungled things beyond repair.

  "That was a rather lovely speech, De La Croix," she said, her face expressionless and his heart tumbled into his gut when she used his title. "I am also very glad that you made it, for it makes it so much easier for me to tell you that I love you as well." Her face beamed with happiness just then and Julian ran to her, pulling her into his arms and spinning her around in a circle with a cry of delight.

  "Thank God! So now I beg of you again, Catherine, don't leave me. Please do not leave me." He nuzzled her neck, nipping at the delicate skin as he had done so often in the past. "I do not think I could bear it if you did."

  Catherine shook her head as Julian pulled her close. "I will not leave you, Julian. I swear. Do you have any idea how my heart broke earlier when you ended things?"

  He kissed her tenderly. "I heard you crying, Kitten. I almost returned to your chambers and begged forgiveness then, but something held me back."

  "Perhaps you were not ready," she replied as she wound her arms around his neck. "Perhaps you needed to fully loose me before you could realize what was in your heart."

  He shook his head as his hands encircled her waist. "Whatever the reason, I am so glad I came to my senses before it was too late. Before you walked out of this castle and my life." Then his hands went lower to squeeze her buttocks playfully.

  "You are insatiable," she gasped as she arched against him, the thin fabric of her gown now suddenly seeming like an impenetrable barrier. She wished to be naked with Julian - now. "Which is precisely the way I adore you and exactly why I shall be your mistress."

  To her surprise, Julian stilled and pulled away from her, blinking in confusion. "Mistress? You believe that I wish for you to become my mistress?"

  "Well...yes." Now it was Catherine's turn to be confused. "Isn't that usually the way of things? I know you do not wish for me to bring up my age, but really, Julian. I am a widow. I am seven years older than you are. I likely cannot give you children, which, as De La Croix, you will need. What else could I possibly be to you?"

  "My wife." Julian cupped her face in his hands. "What else would you be? I love you, Catherine. I would never ask you to be my mistress when you deserve far, far more. In fact, I likely shouldn't be asking you to wed me at all, for I really don't deserve you. But I am a selfish man and I want you with me. Always."

  She gave a little cry of delight. "But you cannot be serious. I am a widow. A wallflower. A dowager."

  "No," he corrected her as he pulled her closer until their noses were touching. "You are a lively, fiery, passionate woman who is fearless, intelligent, strong and brave. You value home and family and history." He chuckled. "You have read Machiavelli and can appreciate Dante. More than that? You love me. What more could a man ask for?"

  You said that you did not want a wife." Catherine held her head high, not daring to believe in this miracle just yet. "That was only the other day."

  Julian shrugged. "I changed my mind. A man can
do that, can he not?"

  "As long as you are certain of this, for if I were to lose you again, Julian, I do not think I would recover." Catherine gulped in some air, finding it difficult to breathe just then. This was the dream she had never hoped to dream, yet had secretly desired anyway.

  He shook his head. "You need not worry, Kitten. I have never been in love before, which is why I did not recognize these feelings for what they truly were. Now? I do. And I could never love anyone the way I love you. And if you were to leave me? Then I would die as well." He cocked his head to the side. "So I shall modify my offer from that first night you spent here. I offer you not just my body but my life and my soul forever. If you wish it. Do you?"

  "Yes, Julian. Yes, I will wed you. But, again, only if you are certain." A part of Catherine felt as if she was living in a dream world, but the heat of Julian's body against hers let her know that this was oh so very real.

  He nuzzled her neck once more. "I am more certain than you can imagine, ma belle." As a rule, he rarely used French, but tonight he would make an exception. "I love you. More than I love my own life. There is no other woman for me. There could never be. You were the woman I did not think existed. To find you and then give you up? I could not."

  "I love you, Julian Valette." Catherine breathed in deeply, her lungs filling with the unique scent of him. "I knew that first night when you carried me into the castle. You awakened something within me. And each day that we spent together, I fell more in love until I thought I might die if you did not feel the same."

  Pulling her close, Julian kissed her deeply and Catherine, despite her earlier pledge, nearly swooned in his arms. "There is a chapel here at Hollywell, correct?"