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    All He Wants for Christmas
    All He Wants for Christmas
    All He Wants for Christmas
    Ebook97 pages1 hour

    All He Wants for Christmas

    By Jerrica Knight-Catania

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    About this ebook

    After attending the funeral of an old school friend, six Regency gentlemen make a pact never to marry, convinced it will save them from meeting the same fate...

    Rowan Findley can't imagine a fate worse than what his friend suffered at the hands of his mad wife, so he's made the decision to remain a bachelor for all eternity. That is, until Olivia walks into his cousin's drawing room for a Christmas party. Her fiery red hair and sweet demeanor remind him of a night so many years ago that he would never forget.

    Olivia Edwards can't quite believe her eyes when Rowan Findley waltzes back into her life, as handsome and charming as ever. It's been almost seven years since she's seen him, and the secret she's been harboring all that time has her on edge whenever he's about. Yet she can't deny that she's still drawn to him, nor can she deny the desire she's kept hidden in her heart these many years.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJerrica Knight-Catania
    Release dateMay 6, 2014
    ISBN9781311198365
    All He Wants for Christmas
    Author

    Jerrica Knight-Catania

    Jerrica Knight-Catania knew from an early age that she was destined for romance. She would spend hours as a young girl sitting in a chair by an open window, listening to the rain, and dreaming of the day Prince Charming would burst in and declare his undying love for her. But it wasn't until she was 28-years-old, tired of her life in the theater, that she turned her focus toward writing Regency Romance novels. All her dreaming paid off, and she now gets to relive those romantic scenes she'd dreamt up as a child as she commits them to paper. She lives in sunny Palm Beach with her real life Prince Charming, their Princess-in-training and their aristocat, Dr. Snuggle.

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      Book preview

      All He Wants for Christmas - Jerrica Knight-Catania

      All He Wants For Christmas

      (A Regency Christmas Pact novella,

      Originally published in A Gentleman’s Pact)

      Jerrica Knight Catania

      Smashwords Edition

      This book is a work of fiction.

      Names, characters, locations and events are either a product of the

      author’s imagination, fictitious or used fictitiously.

      Any resemblance to any event, locale or person,

      living or dead, is purely coincidental.

      All He Wants for Christmas

      Smashwords Edition

      First Edition Copyright 2013 by Jerrica Knight-Catania

      Second Edition Copyright 2014 by Jerrica Knight-Catania

      All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or part in any format.

      Cover by Covers by Lily

      Table of Contents

      Prologue

      One

      Two

      Three

      Four

      Five

      Six

      Seven

      Eight

      Nine

      Ten

      Epilogue

      Other Regency Pact Novellas

      More from Jerrica Knight-Catania

      About the Author

      Prologue

      The Falcon & the Philosopher Inn, Cambridgeshire

      December 1814

      Flickering light from the hearth at the far end of the taproom cast a warm glow across the floor, wooden beams, and six very serious gentlemen gathered in a circle around one of the tables. Only an occasional pop or crackle from the fire made any sound in the otherwise vacant tavern.

      Richard would want us to drink to his name, Rowan Findley announced, lifting a glass of whiskey out before him.

      Robert Hurst, the Earl of Northcotte, snorted. Richard would want to be alive, he grumbled under his breath, but the others heard him clearly. And on that point they were all in agreement.

      Richard Hollace, the late Lord Arrington, had lived life to its fullest. He embodied the sentiment eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die. And unfortunately, the latter was true in his case. It was the way Lord Arrington had passed that had caused such a pallor to be cast upon the taproom. No man liked to think about his own passing, and certainly not passing before one’s time, but to be killed so viciously, and by one’s own wife…

      Which is why we should drink to his name, David Hounslow, the Marquess of Preston said softly, lifting his glass of whiskey as well.

      Here, here. Sebastian Stanwick raised his glass.

      The other three men followed suit as Findley said, To Richard Hollace, a damn good friend.

      With a generous heart, Preston added.

      And a wicked sense of humor, Nicholas Beckford, Lord Edgeworth tossed in.

      The life of every party, agreed Everett Casemore, the Marquess of Berkswell.

      Knower of all things equine. Northcotte smiled sadly.

      Knower of all things female. Stanwick frowned.

      That last bit swirled about the room, each man ruminating over the truth of it. Had Arrington known fewer females, he might very well be alive this night. He wouldn’t be lying six feet under with a hole in his head in the shape of a fire iron. The six of them wouldn’t have driven through the snow to Cambridgeshire on short notice. And they wouldn’t have sat through their old school chum’s funeral, wondering how such a tragedy could have befallen the man.

      One by one, they swallowed the contents of their glasses, each wondering how the world had stopped making sense. Ladies didn’t murder their husbands. They just didn’t do such things, except… Well, except one did. Something the lot of them would have thought unfathomable a fortnight earlier had become a tragic and quite frightening truth.

      What’s going to happen to her? Preston asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the crackling fire.

      She’s been taken to Newgate, Edgeworth replied. I expect they’ll hang her.

      Richard should have been more careful of her sensibilities, Stanwick said, raking a hand through his midnight black hair. He should have taken care that she not find out about his paramours.

      I doubt he thought his wife was capable of such a thing, Berkswell returned.

      I doubt any man thinks so. Findley sighed.

      And yet women are very clearly capable of such things, Northcotte began, One only has to look as far as Richard for proof.

      Again, silence befell the six men. One only did have to look as far as Richard to see that women were very clearly capable of murder. Northcotte had never spoken truer words.

      Well, that settles it then— Findley broke the silence, slamming his glass on the table in front of him a little harder than was necessary —I’m never getting married. That’s the best and only way I can think of to avoid Richard’s fate.

      It only took half a second for Preston to say, I couldn’t agree with you more.

      Well, then, what about you? Findley glanced from Berkswell to Northcotte to Edgeworth to Stanwick.

      Berkswell scrubbed a hand across his jaw and shook his head. Certainly not worth the risk. My brother can inherit.

      As can my cousin, Northcotte added solemnly.

      Never planned on marrying anyway. Edgeworth shrugged.

      Nor I, Stanwick agreed.

      Then we’re agreed, Findley announced, lifting his glass in the air once more. I, Rowan Findley, hereby solemnly vow to never take a wife.

      The other five lifted their glasses and repeated the vow in unison.

      Famous last words, most assuredly…

      One

      Hamlin Abbey

      Eynsford, Kent

      Rowan Findley settled into the high back velvet chair in the corner of the drawing room. He chose it specifically because it was the furthest from the fireplace. He wasn’t sure why he was so warm all of a sudden—God knew it was unbearably frigid outside—but he suspected it had something to do with the woman who had walked into the drawing room only moments before.

      With her flaming red hair and bright blue eyes, she made quite an impression. Or was it her ample bosom—held aloft by a royal blue gown—that had his pulse pounding in his ears?

      Rowan shook his head and took a hearty slug from his snifter. The fine brandy made a soothing path down his throat to his belly, reminding his Little General of the pact he’d recently made with his friends. The pact to never succumb to a woman’s charms. Certainly frivolous romps were all right, but a woman like her…no, she was meant for marriage. Rowan would sooner lick the bottom of Prinny’s shoe than put a ring on a woman’s finger. Even if she was one of the loveliest he’d ever laid eyes upon.

      He dragged his gaze away from the stunning redhead to find his cousin, Patience, the Duchess of Swaffham, staring at him from across the room. She gave him one of those looks that said she wasn’t pleased with his behavior

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