Page 28 of A Season for Christmas

She smiled at him.

“When we return to London.” It was more than a declaration; it was a promise. The kind she had never been ableto give in the past because she had never known whether she would be able to keep it. Now, she could make her own decisions, make her plans for herself.

It was not an offer and acceptance of marriage, but it was far more than they’d had before.

Even that could not keep her mind quiet, however.

“Do you think we are in any danger here?” she asked. “I know Gregory told you he has not received any letters, but that does not mean the danger is gone. Someone wanted his father to do something. They could come here to try to do it themselves.”

Samuel’s expression turned more serious, though his hands continued to explore her backside.

“I do not think we are. The last letter was marked a fortnight before the hunting lodge. I cannot help but wonder if they got what they wanted.”

“I hope so.” Catherine shook her head. “Which sounds horrible of me because it was a huge tragedy, but I do not want Gregory or his mother to be in any danger. Or his half-sisters. Or anyone here. Everyone has been wonderful. Anna said the other servants welcomed her and your groom without hesitation and treated them like honored guests.”

“The late duke is unlamented, and having met him, I understand why. It might have been a tragedy for the other families, but for this one, it might have been a boon. Especially if you did manage to convince her grace to visit you in London.” He smiled crookedly. “She has not been back since the Season when the old duke chose her, but she always wants to hear about it. Gregory will be glad she is stepping foot off the estate.”

“I do not think Gregory will thank me since her biggest reason for leaving the estate is to find him a wife,” Catherine murmured with a laugh. She could only imagine the kind ofdebutante the duchess would choose for her son. It promised to make for a very entertaining Season.

“Well, that part he might not thank you for, but the rest of it…” Samuel chuckled. “He cares more about his mother’s wellbeing than her motivations. She might drive him batty, but as long as she is happy, he will be, too.”

Which spoke very well of him, despite his rakish ways. Hopefully, he did not make his poor future wife too miserable. She had a feeling it would depend on who triumphed in the choice for his wife—him or his mother. He would likely choose for logical, rational, calculating reasons… but his mother would want him to choose for love.

Catherine had already had a marriage of the first. She was now hoping for a marriage based on the second.

“I feel as though I have lost your attention again,” Samuel murmured, not realizing that her thoughts had already shifted to be full of him rather than Gregory. However, with the way he was moving his hands over her, she was not going to protest. His lips brushed against the underside of her chin. “Do you think we could try our exertions with me on top this time, my lady?”

Catherine smiled.

“Oh, yes.” She rolled off him and onto her back, head against the pillow. Before he could roll atop her, she held one hand up at where his chest was, keeping him on his side, and pointed behind him. “Go get the crop first.”

The crop she’d left conveniently propped against the wall. Anna had fetched it for her, knowing better than to ask any questions. Samuel’s eyebrows went up, a look of consternation crossing his expression, but he pushed himself up from the bed and went to fetch her the crop.

Once he was between her thighs, she used it to spur him onward, peppering the backs of his thighs and his buttockswith the leather end as he rode her, giving him pain and pleasure in equal measure.

When she woke the next morning, she found that he’d tucked the crop under their pillows.

Samuel

There truly was no sign of a house in mourning for the holiday season, and Samuel understood why Gregory had wanted to invite him and no others. The lack of other houseguests was not out of respect for their state of mourning but because Samuel would not judge the disrespect of its lack.

The duchess flitted about, Catherine at her side, both of them laughing and enjoying decorating the house like a couple of schoolchildren. Rather than being weighed down or aged by grief, the duchess appeared younger, lighter than Samuel had ever seen her. The house was one of joy, of light, and of yuletide decorations and delicious smells as the traditional foods were prepared.

Branches were gathered to deck the windows, the yule log was lit, the pudding was served, and presents were exchanged. He was unsurprised to find that Catherine had managed to bring small tokens with her for both Gregory and the duchess or that they both had procured items to give to her as well, despite the short notice for all involved.

He had a small pile of presents, sent to his home during his travels, to bestow upon them. For Catherine, of course, he had no such bounty, as he had not known whether or not he’d see her again… but he did have a scarf he’d found in Turkey in a stunning deep red that he had been unable to resist buying. Even at the time, while she’d been married, he’d had her in his mind when he’d purchased it. As though it had been made for her.

Though, at the time, he’d never imagined he would be able to actually give it to her.

As merriment bounded through the household, Samuel pulled her aside into one of the many doorways where mistletoe had been hung. Smiling, she looked up at it, tilting her head back as she waited for her kiss.

Instead, Samuel pulled her against him, his arm around her waist, and when she reached up to touch his cheek with her fingers, he covered that hand with his own.

“Catherine…” Her name came out roughly, his voice husky with emotion. It was too soon, he knew it, yet at the same time, it felt like it was not nearly soon enough. He had to know what she wanted from him, at the least, before his heart became any more involved. “I still love you.”

Sudden tears glimmered in her dark eyes as her thumb gently touched the side of his lips.

“I still love you,” she whispered back. “I think I have always loved you. I… I am sorry…”

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