Page 14 of Seducing an Earl under the Mistletoe
“I just don’t know what it is,” Catherine admitted. “I doubt it is nothing but the events of the previous couple of days, as he said.” She sighed heavily, then continued, “I shall go rest a little myself. And there are a few letters I must write. We can have tea in the parlor a bit later, if you’d like.”
“I would like that,” Virginie smiled. Catherine hoped that at least her sister was not as worried as she was. That was some comfort.
As Catherine climbed the stairs to her chamber, her mind was a whirlwind of frustration and unanswered questions. Seeking solace, she entered her sanctuary, her room filled with the scent of ink and old paper, a haven where she had always found solace in her writing.
However, her return to the countryside seemed to have stolen her inspiration. The blank pages of her journal mocked her, whispering of her inability to conjure the eloquence she so desperately craved. She paced the room, trying to shake off the feeling of being trapped in a creative drought.
As she sat at her desk, she wracked her brain for ideas, recalling the bustling streets of London, the lively conversations, and the endless inspiration that seemed to flow effortlessly there. But now, the quietude of the countryside had stifled her creativity.
At that moment, her mind traveled back to the night when Arthur kissed her under the mistletoe. Her entire body was suddenly washed over by a tidal wave of heat, spreading slowly down from the nape of her neck, nestling in that forbidden place between her thighs. No one had ever had such an effect on her; no man had ever managed to awaken such passion inside of her.
With trembling fingers, she trailed her fingers over her collarbone, feeling the silkiness of her own skin. She closed her eyes, the quill trembling in her other hand. She remembered everything. The taste of his lips. The smell of his skin. The way his eyes sparkled in the night as he gazed at her with such fervor that she thought he would devour her. And she had wanted it. She wanted to be devoured by him whole, to become one with him.
Slowly, her quill started to move along the paper, led by the passion she felt, which kept on pouring onto the pages, creating a scene alive with desire and longing, an ode to the captivating connection she had experienced with him.
The faster the quill wrote, the lower her other hand slid down the silky fabric of her gown. She caressed her breasts, feeling the soft mounds rise, then lower as her breathing became faster and faster. Somewhere inside of her, heat unfurled. Lost in her creative effort, her body resonated with the intensity of the words she wrote.
She was reliving the moment again, her body awash with senses. She imagined it was his hand touching her, caressing her. She moaned loudly once, gasping as she did so, her eyes widening in shock of herself. Was it possible that he had such an effect on her, even from afar?
Then, a knock on the door brought her abruptly back to the reality. Startled, she quickly hid her composition under her desk, hoping that whoever was standing on the other side of the door would not notice her frantic state of mind.
“Come in,” she called out, her voice regaining its composure.
Her maid appeared in the doorway, a young woman of utmost propriety, her demeanor always respectful and reserved. “I apologize for the interruption, Lady Catherine, but a letter has arrived for you.”
She walked over to Catherine, handing her the letter in question.
“Thank you, Mary,” Catherine smiled. “Is that all?”
“Yes, Lady Catherine.” Mary nodded quickly.
“All right then,” Catherine replied, watching as Mary dutifully left and closed the door behind her.
Catherine sat back down at her writing table, carefully breaking the seal of the letter. The delicate scent of lavender wafted from the paper, a familiar and comforting aroma. Her aunt’s elegant handwriting adorned the page, conveying both warmth and a sense of purpose.
My dearest Catherine,
I trust this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. I write to inform you of my visit. The time has come for me to step in and assist in restoring harmony and order within our family.
Recent tidings have reached my ears, and it is my sincere wish to bring my experience and guidance to bear upon these matters. I shall arrive in due course to discuss all in person and set all to rights.
I am looking forward to our reunion, my dear niece.
Yours affectionately,
Aunt Prudence
Catherine’s heart swelled with a mix of emotions—relief, anticipation, and a touch of apprehension. Her aunt was a woman of resolve and wisdom, and her presence often brought a sense of stability and direction to the family. The prospect of her visit offered hope for resolution amidst the current family discord.
With renewed determination, Catherine folded the letter neatly and tucked it into her drawer. The impending arrival of her aunt promised a turning point, a chance to address the challenges that had unsettled their lives. She could only hope for a fresh start and a return to the tranquility they had once known.
Chapter 6
As Arthur made his way into the Winters family home, along with his mother and Margot, he could immediately tell that the Winters family had spared no effort in transforming their estate into a spectacle of elegance and refinement for the occasion of the dinner party.
The sprawling manor was adorned with flickering candlelight, casting a warm and inviting glow over the gathering. Tasteful arrangements of winter flowers, particularly white roses and holly, adorned the tables and mantels, providing a touch of seasonal charm.
The dining hall was a vision of opulence, with a long, polished mahogany table meticulously set for the occasion. Bone china, delicate crystal glassware, and polished silverware adorned each place setting. Intricately folded napkins and fresh sprigs of evergreen added a touch of sophistication.
