Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “It’s been awful.” Her shoulders slumped.

  “Sorry?”

  She shivered. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

  “Okay, but I’m totally confused.” He rubbed his face on her backside, and Selene wiggled, pressing her breast into his hand.

  “Oh, wow.” She squealed.

  “You should get out more,” Oswald said, and Selene would have sworn his teeth nipped her flesh. “You might really like it.” He inhaled along the curve of her back as he stood, pulling her against his body.

  “I bet I would.” She dropped her head back onto his chest and glanced upward at his beautiful face, making sure to memorize the perfection of Oz.

  His mouth lowered, lips so gently brushing over hers in the softest, velvety kiss. “I’ve wanted—”

  “Stop!” Uncle Ralph hollered, his voice reverberating off the marble floor and columns in a deafening volume. “Unhand my niece!”

  “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear.” Aunt Margery waddled toward the confessional faster than she’d moved in Selene’s entire life, fanning herself with a weekly church bulletin. As her hand closed around Selene’s wrist she used the eight-page pamphlet to smack Oswald back into the confessional. “Get in that confessional, you bad boy!”

  Jerking the curtain closed she spun on Selene, tightening her grip and dragging her to a pew, where as soon as she’d forced them both to their knees she leaned over and whispered, “You were right. He’s quite handsome. But church? Church? This is not the place for that kind of behavior.”

  Glancing back at Uncle Ralph, who had by now made it to the confessional and was wiping his bald head with a handkerchief and grimacing at the two big feet sticking out from under the curtain, Aunt Margery waved him toward the door to take Oswald’s confession.

  “Is he even catholic?” Uncle Ralph demanded.

  “Oh, really? Who are you to judge? Take the boy’s confession,” Aunt Margery growled and turned back. “Now, the wedding will have to be here.”

  “What?” Selene shrieked as the curtain to the confessional opened to reveal a mortified Oswald.

  “Well, you don’t expect the wedding to be at that base, do you? I thought you’d have at least one bridesmaid, but as I see you’ve moved onto the honeymoon so quickly I feel we really can’t wait for maids and gowns and the like. We’ll just do it here after confession.” Margery pushed herself up onto the seat before pulling herself up to stand. Waddling at the speed of one of those wind up ducks you find in cheap toy stores, she rushed to the confessional and shoved Oswald back into the seat.

  “Don’t get up again, young man. If all that I’ve heard about you is correct, you have a lot to tell Father Ralph before you can marry our Selene.” She jerked the curtain shut and turned to face her brother.

  “Aunt Margery, we’re not getting married.” Selene stood and took one step toward them. “Ozzy is—”

  “Sit quietly, young lady.” Margery pointed with one quick jab of her finger, causing Selene to sit down. “Ralph, what are you waiting for? Get in there and hear this boy’s confession.”

  With plump hands resting on very round hips draped in flat brown polyester Aunt Margery puffed up her chest and stared at Uncle Ralph. It was an expression Uncle Ralph had seen more times than any other. Of this, Selene was certain, having also seen it more times than any other.

  Aunt Margery’s pale skin was flush from rushing to the church and strands of frizzy gray hair floated about her head, having come loose of the old maid bun dangling at the nape of her neck. Her brown eyes, the color of an acorn shell were wide, yet somehow held a glare that left everyone in their sights cautiously obeying.

  “Margery…” Uncle Ralph rested his hands on his sister’s shoulders. “I’m not sure I should be taking the confession of a vampire.”

  “And why not?”

  “First, I’m not certain I, or any priest, is qualified and second, is he even a Christian?”

  “As you and I both know they must be prepared for the sacrament of marriage. You can’t simply marry them without taking his confession. Christian or not, if the boy wants to confess, let him.”

  “I…I never said I wanted to confess.” Oz leaned out of the confessional, holding up a finger and shaking his head. “I don’t understand why I’m confessing or what I’m to confess.”

  “Oh, I’m certain you can think of plenty to confess.” Aunt Margery leveled that look at Oswald, and his eyes widened as he slowly sat back, drawing the curtain between them.

  “It was me. I thought he should confess in order to be sacrificed,” Selene said.

  “I’m not being sacrificed.” The curtain never moved.

  “No. You’re getting married,” Aunt Margery said.

  “Well, dear sister, why do you think they’re getting married?” Behind black-rimmed glasses Uncle Ralph’s dark brown eyes darted from his sister to the confessional and back. “He’s a vampire,” he whispered.

  Margery grabbed Uncle Ralph by his jacket and dragged him several feet away. “I’m well aware…” With each step toward the front of the church her raised voice lowered, finally trailing off.

  Oswald’s head poked out from behind the curtain, his expression making it clear he was confused.

  Selene frowned. “Sorry. I hadn’t anticipated this.”

  How could she? How could anyone anticipate this? It was unfathomably embarrassing.

  In the history of all the world had any woman’s aunt tried to force a vampire to confess his sins to a priest, who happened to be her uncle, so that he could be forced into marrying her? Selene had not one iota of doubt that this was in fact the only time it had ever happened.

  “I thought he’d just come help get you ready.” She picked at the wooden pew. “I was trying to be helpful, trying to prepare you.”

  “To be sacrificed?”

  She nodded.

  “Why do you think I’m being sacrificed?” Oswald leaned further from the confessional, resting his elbows on his knees and twirling his sunglasses in one hand.

  “You’re a vampire in church. I sort of just thought that, you know, God was letting you in so you could prepare to di…be sacrificed.” She twisted her lips to the side.

  The realization that she nearly said he was going to die, an assumption anyone would make when discussing the sacrificing of another, caused Selene’s throat to tighten.

  “It’s quite valiant to sacrifice yourself for the betterment of others. I couldn’t do it,” she mumbled, looking at her hands. “I thought Serge would be the one, but I see how you could want to help everyone.” All the time she’d been secretly in love with Oswald made it nearly impossible for her to be happy with his choice. She knew she should be supportive, but at the moment she couldn’t bring herself to even try to fake an ounce of joy for him.

  “I don’t want you to die,” she whispered.

  “I would prefer not to.” He shrugged.

  She slid to the end of the pew closest to him. “Why in the world would you volunteer for this?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Right.” Embarrassed that she diminished his higher calling to some simple choice, she couldn’t make eye contact with him. “You must be here to clear your conscience and prepare to meet your maker. That’s terribly wonderful for you.”

  “What are you talking about? I know my maker.” Oswald grimaced as he massaged the muscle at the base of his neck. “Terrible is an understatement.”

  “What?”

  “Look, everyone always wants to know what he’s like. Is he really benevolent and forgiving? Does he care as much as he says?” He shook his head, and a scowl appeared on his face, eliminating any trace of kindness. “He’s an ass, and I don’t need to meet up with him again. Not in this lifetime or the next.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought you were courageous and…”

  If the entire evening with Oswald had not already been one giant roller coaster of emotion complete with giant hill
s and loops that put her stomach in knots, the last five seconds made Selene want to punch him dead in the face.

  “And if you think I’m sacrificing myself to that jerk, you’re out of your mind.” He chuckled, and the sound ripped down Selene’s nerves like a jagged saw over a velvet curtain. “I’m certainly not afraid of him. But I’m not some idiot who can be walked all over and used for his profit. Like that guy deserves my help with anything.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she thought about what he’d just said and how only moments earlier she’d believed him to be so selfless. Now, he mocked her and all that she believed in. Oswald was a jackass, and apparently, not even God could change that.

  “Well, if you’re not here to prepare for an act of selflessness, exactly what are you doing in church, vampire?” She heard the snarl in her own voice as she leaned forward and hurled the question at Oz. Before she could consider stopping her tongue, the cruelest words she’d spoken flew from her mouth. “Why would you ever be allowed to cross the threshold of this building, if not by the grace of God, you demon spawn of the devil?”

  HER VAMPIRE PROTECTOR

  CHAPTER NINE

  Oz had been called worse names. Most of the names had been yelled at him by people he didn’t care about. None of them hurt as much as this. None of the anger accompanying them felt as personal and as impassioned as it did in Selene’s hushed whisper.

  With the return of Margery and Ralph, who shook his head, attempting to continue his argument against taking Oswald’s confession, there was no opportunity to respond to Selene’s question, though it was now completely evident why he’d had such trouble wooing her.

  “It’s settled.” Margery stood beside Selene. “We’ve called the bishop to hear both of your confessions. He’s on his way. Then Uncle Ralph will marry you.”

  “What?” Selene asked. Her mouth opened, lips twisting in a frown. Above her nose two creases appeared between crinkled eyebrows. “Why would you call the bishop?”

  “Well, Uncle Ralph, here…” Margery shook her head, “thinks it’s best to have someone higher up the holy chain do this deed.”

  “But I don’t need to go to confession.” Selene pointed at Oswald. “He’s the one who needs the bishop. Honestly, I’ve been to confession more times than anyone.”

  “Really?” Margery nodded. “More times than me?”

  “Well, no.”

  “More times than Uncle Ralph,” Margery asked.

  “Obviously not,” Selene said. “But clearly, more times than Oswald.”

  Oz nodded. She was right. He’d never been to confession, never even thought about it, unless you counted all the times he’d hidden in the confessional as going to confession. Actually, when he thought about it there were a few times he did share some thoughts with God while he was in the little box hiding from Selene, but probably most of those thoughts would not have been considered confessions of any sort. Though, he had confessed to loving her and had thanked God on several occasions for her existence.

  “Exactly. Since the bishop is on his way—” Margery began but jumped a good two feet when Selene interrupted.

  “Now! He’s coming now? Why?” Selene was up and hovering over her aunt, who Oz hadn’t realized was a foot shorter and more than three feet wider.

  “We cannot perform a wedding without confession.” Margery backed up into the wall. “And yelling at your elders, who are trying very hard to help you…” she glanced toward Oswald, then back at Selene and lowered her voice to a whisper he guessed she used on Sundays during mass. “…who are trying to help you improve your love life…”

  “Ah! Ah! Aaahhh!” Selene covered her ears.

  “…should be something you confess. I’m only trying to help and you’re being ungrateful,” Margery said.

  “Did it ever occur to you, Margery, that possibly they don’t want to get married?” Ralph sat in the last pew, closest to Oswald, which was when Oz noticed he now had an eight-inch crucifix hanging around his neck.

  He didn’t want to laugh. Well, really he did want to laugh, but it would be wildly disrespectful to laugh at the man who loved Selene like a daughter. However, if that crucifix was much larger he would have required assistance in carrying it.

  “Well, why wouldn’t they? Marriage is a wonderful thing,” Margery said.

  “Yes, but do you honestly think marrying our niece off to someone like him is the right thing to do?” Ralph asked.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Selene demanded, gripping the back of the pew and glaring at her uncle. “Just because he’s different doesn’t mean we shouldn’t get married.”

  Ralph startled. “I never said anything about him being different.”

  “Oh, really?” Selene glared. “Just what were you insinuating?”

  “Yes, Ralph, what were you implying?” Margery tilted her head up and looked down her nose at Ralph.

  “You have no right to decide who I marry,” Selene said.

  “It’s true. She should pick her own husband,” Margery added, rubbing Selene’s shoulders. “Hasn’t she been through enough in her short lifetime? Why you would interfere with her marrying a perfectly respe…nic…handsome man is incomprehensible.”

  Oz grinned, wondering what exactly Selene had told her aunt about him. He had a great deal of sympathy for Ralph. Holidays must have been something else with these two women.

  “I’m sort of interested in why we’re getting married,” Oz said, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “Did I somehow forget that I asked you to marry me?” His gaze fell on Selene, and her cheeks reddened like two perfectly ripe apples.

  “Young man, if you have forgotten groping my niece in church in a manner that clearly indicates an intention of marriage, then you are not good enough for our Selene. She is not some floosy for you to play with.” Margery’s angry glare centered on Oswald, and he couldn’t remember any other time when he’d felt this kind of fear.

  “I didn’t say I’d forgotten and I didn’t grope her on purpose. She made me do it. I hadn’t wanted to touch her. She forced me to put my hands on her.”

  The minute he said those words, Oz regretted them more than he’d regretted anything. Selene’s eye’s widened. Her mouth dropped open, and a quick harsh breath huffed. Before he could say anything to fix what he’d said, her eyes filled with tears.

  “Wait. That didn’t come out right. That’s not at all what I meant.” He stood to walk toward Selene, but she stalked toward him and slapped him so hard his cheek stung a thousand times more than it had the first time she hit him.

  Without another word she ran toward the door and left, leaving Oz with her aunt and uncle and the newly arrived bishop.

  HER VAMPIRE PROTECTOR

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Why am I surprised? I don’t know why. I can’t think of any reason why I should be surprised by anything Oswald Addison does.” Selene threw her destroyed pantyhose in the trash.

  “I made him grope me,” she said to the mirror, then proceeded to brush her teeth with more gusto than was needed. “Made him.” Droplets of toothpaste spattered the glass.

  She thought back to the moment when she realized his hands were on her body. Hot. Big. She could have, should have pushed him away. But she didn’t. She liked it.

  Why wouldn’t she?

  It’s not as though she was dead. She may not have been the most experienced or even slightly experienced lover in any way other than kissing and the occasional, twice, petting, but the point was she was not dead. She was a normal hot-blooded human woman who had a crush on a man who happened to cup her breast and squeeze her thigh, and then he held her against his body in a way she’d only fantasized about several hundred times.

  There was nothing wrong with enjoying his touch. Well, maybe the fact that it happened in church where her uncle was the pastor might have been wrong, but it wasn’t intentional, intent being more of the problem than the act itself.

  “I didn’t hear him complain
ing. In fact…” She spat out the toothpaste and rinsed. “He seemed to like it.”

  At least that’s what she thought at the time, but now she wondered. Had he simply been appeasing her or playing with her? Was he that shallow of a man that he’d lead her on only to get a kick out of watching her hang on every second of his touch?

  “Damn it!” She tossed the toothbrush into the sink with enough force that it did a quick swirl around the basin and shot out to land on the counter, then scrubbed a towel over her face and swatted the light off.

  “This has been without a doubt the second worst night of my life!” She yanked the faded cotton sheet up over her head and rolled onto her side.

  No matter how horrible life got nothing would ever be worse than that night eight years ago when she lost her parents. Nothing. Not even realizing she wasn’t actually repelled by a certain vampire, but rather was in love with him and then having her crazy aunt try to marry her off to him only to find out he did not have even one little bit of interest in her. This, of course, following yet another meeting at work where she managed to offend every vampire in the room and probably put her life at risk.

  Oh, and let’s not forget being duped into believing Oz was a selfless man with plans to put his entire race before himself only to have the truth revealed that he was the veritable antichrist!

  This had been a very, very bad night.

  What she would not have given to be able to tell her mother the entire story.

  Nope. This definitely was not worse than that night, though she may have to take Uncle Ralph up on the job offer to be the part-time accountant at the church, give up her apartment, and go live with Aunt Margery. It might be safer and a lot less humiliating.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force herself to go to sleep. It was two in the morning, and she needed to rest. A good night’s sleep always made everything better, or at least it made everything more coherent.

  Focusing on breathing full, cleansing breaths in and smooth exhales, her mind began to lighten and a haze of welcome sleep descended. Muscles relaxed as the stress of the evening slipped away.