Christmas At Arundale Hall

By Jennifer Leeland

“The Christmas holiday is near at hand and Chantal D’Insigny is forced to flee her home in France and seek protection from the man she rejected only a fortnight before. To hide her secret, Chantal sent Jaimison away, convinced that if she kept him as she wished, the truth would be revealed and put her and those she loved in danger. But forgiveness was not hers for the asking and she must face her deadly foe alone.
Edward Jaimson was Chantal’s slave, his desire to submit to her as strong as his need to love her. Her dismissal hurt and he cannot bow to her again without risking his heart. Though she is a powerful witch, he is convinced she needs him almost as much as he needs her. Desire is not enough as they face an enemy who uses the innocent and corrupts the weak. The Arundale family draws together to fight one of their own. To save Chantal, Jaimison may have to let her go even if that means she may die to defend those she loves.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Leeland
• Release date: Nov 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311335432

Jennifer Leeland

New York Times best selling author Jennifer Leeland has been telling stories since she was very young. Most people were so small minded as to call it lying until she was able to put her stories on paper. Now they call it fiction.To know what she writes, you have to know that the first question she asks about a book or movie is "Does it have a happy ending?". If it doesn't, she's not interested. Her love of kinky people and kinky stuff has led her to write about relationships that are slightly bent and probably flawed. You can always count on two things with a Jennifer Leeland book: angst and kink.She lives with a Redneck, who loves to brainstorm with her on occasion and her two hulking teenagers in the Northern California Boonies. She is also a moderator for the award winning writer's forum Romance Divas where I've been a member since 2006.To learn more you can go to http://jenniferleeland.com

Book preview

CHRISTMAS

AT

ARUNDALE HALL

By Jennifer Leeland

Copyright 2014

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,

and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Cover Art by P and N Graphics.

Self-Published Edition 2014

About CHRISTMAS AT ARUNDALE HALL…

The Christmas holiday is near at hand and Chantal D’Insigny is forced to flee her home in France and seek protection from the man she rejected only a fortnight before. To hide her secret, Chantal sent Jaimison away, convinced that if she kept him as she wished, the truth would be revealed and put her and those she loved in danger. But forgiveness was not hers for the asking and she must face her deadly foe alone.

Edward Jaimson was Chantal’s slave, his desire to submit to her as strong as his need to love her. Her dismissal hurt and he cannot bow to her again without risking his heart. Though she is a powerful witch, he is convinced she needs him almost as much as he needs her. Desire is not enough as they face an enemy who uses the innocent and corrupts the weak. The Arundale family draws together to fight one of their own. To save Chantal, Jaimison may have to let her go even if that means she may die to defend those she loves.

Dedication

To Melissa Blue, who believed in the first Wolf of Arundale and has read every deviant, kinky word that’s followed. Thank you for always being there for me.

To Sidney Bristol and Emily Ryan Davis, who have no idea how much their enthusiasm for these books has kept me writing when I struggled. You guys are the best!

To my editor, Becca. Nothing fazes you! Thank you for always having the perfect changes that I would have made myself if I could see it. Good editors are gold, and you are a treasure.

To Romance Divas, for the help and comfort that I can never repay. Thank you to all the Divas who have always been the source of strength in my career.

To Joey W. Hill, who has always been that gracious author who has given me just the right words to find that well of creativity inside. Thank you for the words you’ve given me and the books you’ve written that keep me inspired.

Finally, to all my readers. Thank you for giving me a shot. There are so many great authors out there and I’m lucky you took a chance on me. Hopefully, I can always deliver.

CHAPTER ONE

It was not to be borne. Edward Jaimison glowered at the bright decorations in one of the shop windows and gritted his teeth. London’s noise and bustle reminded him that he longed to be elsewhere, though it was better than the quiet, dull countryside. Arundale Hall was filled with couples deeply in love and exuding happiness. In his current state, that was the last thing he wanted.

He had stayed in Bayeux, France for as long as Chantal D’Insigny would have him, and he wasn’t going to insist on staying longer. But as he braced himself against the cold London wind, he doubted himself. He should have stayed. His pride had forbidden it. His heart had been too sore to object.

She had given him a treasure he could not measure, and then she’d torn it away from him. He would never forget her cold gaze and her pursed lips as she’d informed him that his services were no longer needed.

Services indeed.

Edward dodged a carriage as he stepped across the busy road toward the Boar’s Nest Inn. One more night in London, finish business for Joshua, the Earl of Arundale, and then what? Back to his small cottage on the Arundale estate? A visit to the pub on Christmas Eve? A hangover on Christmas Day?

He shook the extra moisture from his coat. The streets of London bustled and glittered despite the dirt and smell. Vendors were busy. People rushed from one place to another. Even the inn was crowded as Edward stamped the mud from his boots and stepped through the door.

It’s a wet one out there, said the barkeep. "I have a message for you, Mr. Jaimison. It’s from the captain of The Adelaide."

That was strange. The Adelaide was the cargo ship that had brought him home from France. The letter was addressed to him, but for delivery to Arundale Hall. Thank you, Edward said, and took the envelope. It was lucky the letter had found him here. Joshua had given him long list of errands to run.

He’d been back at Arundale Hall for two weeks, morose, sullen, when Joshua had dragged him into the study. Edward had expected an interrogation, a demand for information. Instead Joshua had given him a lengthy list and sent him to London.

He sat down at one of the tables and nodded when the barkeep brought his cider. It had been a damn cold day and the hot drink would be better for his mood than ale.

When he looked at the letter, he froze. It was from her.

His hands shook slightly as he tore open the envelope.

Mr. Jaimison,

I require your help with a very urgent matter and wish to discuss it with you in person.

I have booked a passage to London. I have to complete business here but I will be able to leave tonight on The Adelaide. The Captain assures me that this will reach you within a week of our docking in London. I will reside with Madame Louise de Laval.

I request that you come to see me there.

Respectfully,

Chantal D’Insigny

Jaimison stared at the letter, unable to process it. The date on the letter was a fortnight after he’d left her. Why would she want to see him now? Had something happened? He rose immediately and called for a carriage.

"When did The Adelaide arrive?" Jaimison asked the innkeeper.

This morning, sir.

What had driven Chantal to take this trip across the Channel? The letter itself revealed nothing, the script even and seemingly unhurried. Though she did not expect him for another week, he could not wait. There was only a small chance that Chantal would see him at this late hour, but he had to go to her.

The drizzle dampened his hair and dripped from his hat, but he was undeterred. There was no doubt in his mind that Chantal had contacted him on an impersonal matter, not to renew their sexual relationship. Her earlier cold dismissal of him had made that quite clear.

He wondered if Chantal was aware of his past with Madame de Laval. After all, Madame had been the catalyst that had exposed the hidden needs which had driven Edward into Chantal’s arms. It had been Madame de Laval who had encouraged Jaimison to exercise his desire to bend to a woman’s will in the bedroom, to enjoy the lash across his back and to crave that domination so few women could provide.

Despite their enjoyment of each other, Jaimison had felt only gratitude toward Madame de Laval, and neither of them had wanted to base a relationship on that. They had parted ways with no plans for future encounters. But could Chantal know about Madame de Laval and not judge him? He had no idea.

What did it matter? Chantal had enjoyed him, and then tossed him aside. She had no right to criticize him.

When the carriage arrived, he gave Madame de Laval’s address and ducked inside. The rain poured steadily as the carriage negotiated the muddy streets to the rather grand residence where Madame de Laval lived with her lover Mr. Cyrus Asher.

Louise loved Cyrus, but their relationship was ignored by the ton. Cyrus was her junior by fifteen years, but that did not affect them at all. He escorted Louise to parties and the theater, but for some reason the ton viewed their relationship as one of patroness to artist. The simple fact that Cyrus was a minor poet who did little to publish his work did not seem to make any impression on society.

What Edward wanted to know was how the hell Chantal was acquainted with Louise. From what Edward knew, Chantal had not traveled much, though she’d crisscrossed France when seeking an ancient journal by her D’Insigny ancestor. Louise, however, had visited most of Europe’s major cities and spent time in that mysterious country, Russia. Had she and Chantal met during one of Louise’s many wanderings?

When he arrived at the de Laval home and paid off the driver, lights were burning and the house seemed warm and welcoming. By the time the footman answered the door, Edward was soaked and cold.

Mr. Jaimison, the footman said,