My Winter Rogue: A Regency Holiday Collection

by Jillian Eaton

  “I can help you,” she offered.

  Colebrook scowled. “I said I’ve started a fire before and I can damn well start this one.”

  “All right.” Holding her hands up, palms facing outwards, she retreated to a large leather armchair. “I’ll just be over here. Slowly freezing to death,” she muttered under her breath.

  “I heard that.”

  “You were supposed to.” Resting her elbow on the edge of the chair and propping her chin in the cusp of her hand, she watched, with no small degree of amusement, as Colebrook tried – and miserably failed – to get the linen to ignite.

  Finally, after his fifth attempt yielded nothing more than a tiny spark that immediately went out, he turned to her in exasperation and growled, “The bloody thing’s broken.”

  “Here.” Lips twitching as she struggled not to giggle, she stood up and held out her hand. “Let me see the striker and flint. You hold the box. The trick,” she said as they stood shoulder to shoulder with their heads bent together, “is to angle the flint just…like…ah!” Triumph shot through her voice as a bright orange spark flew off the edge of the flint and landed on the scorched linen. Within seconds a large flame began to greedily consume the cloth and Colebrook, eyes wide, threw everything – tinderbox and all – into the hearth.

  “Wait!” she cried. “That is not what you – oh, never mind. It’s too late now. Next time, you needn’t toss the entire thing in. Just use the brimstone stick.” Laughing, she lifted her gaze to Colebrook’s…and her laughter slowly faded away when she saw the heat in his eyes.

  “You started the fire,” he said huskily, and as he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her against his chest Cadence was left with the distinct impression that he wasn’t referring to the logs burning in the hearth. “Well done, Miss Fairchild.”

  “It really wasn’t that d-difficult,” she gasped when he bent his head and traced the sensitive shell of her earlobe with his tongue. “Anyone could have d-done it.” Her toes curled inside of her boots. “Well, anyone but a duke a-apparently.”

  Oh, that felt heavenly. Who knew the ear was such a source of untapped pleasure?

  The Duke of Colebrook, she thought dazedly as he began to nibble his way down the curve of her neck. That’s who.

  “Are you mocking me?” he asked, lifting his head to stare down at her, blue eyes gleaming.

  “Yes,” she replied without hesitation. And then, because it seemed the duke’s devilishness was contagious, she peered coyly up at him beneath her lashes and said, “What are you going to do about it?”

  Chapter Nine

  The fire in the hearth was roaring, but it was nothing compared to the flames that burned between Cadence and Colebrook. She didn’t know who kissed whom; only that one moment they were two separate entities and the next they were one being, their lips locked and their hands desperately sliding beneath heavy layers of clothing to touch and stroke and pet.

  The coat he’d draped over her shoulders fell away and then so did her dress, leaving her silhouetted against the glow of fire in nothing more than her chemise and petticoat. Trimmed in white satin ribbon the light, airy garments followed the natural curves of her body and Colebrook’s eyes took on a hungry, predatory light that sent heat shooting straight down to her loins as he stepped back to admire her.

  “Beautiful.” He whispered the word as if he were saying a prayer. Cadence could have easily said the same.

  The duke stood before her in just his shirt and trousers. He exuded raw masculinity with every breath, and with his tousled hair and the shadow of whiskers across his chin and jaw it was easy to envision him as a thief or a highwayman or – her blood quickened – a pirate ready to swoop aboard a captured ship and claim what he desired.

  Her.

  The fantasy only grew when he took grabbed her hip with one hand, slid the other beneath her coiffure, and kissed her with a fervent passion that left her dazed and aching for more. Hair pins scattered across the floor and her mane came tumbling down in a waterfall of ebony silk as the kiss intensified before he wrenched himself free, sculpted chest rising and falling with the force of his breaths.

  “We shouldn’t,” he rasped. “You’re an innocent.”

  She saw the unspoken question in his eyes and knew he was asking her permission to continue. Embracing the wickedness inside of her, she gave it.

  “Not after tonight,” she whispered, and her belly quivered when his gaze darkened. Yanking a plush fur rug off the back of a sofa, he threw it down in front of the hearth.

  “Lift your hands above your head,” he said huskily and she obeyed the command without question, any self-consciousness she might have felt drowned out by the overpowering sense of need that throbbed inside of her. When she was dressed in nothing but firelight he took her back into his arms, touching her naked skin with a soft reverence that brought tears to her eyes and wonder to her heart.

  He lowered her slowly onto the fur. Pausing only to whisk off his shirt and trousers with an urgency that had her biting back a smile, he followed her down until she was facing him and he was facing her, their naked bodies bathed in shadow and flame, their eyes only for each other.

  “Are you certain?” he asked, reaching out to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. Like a flower denied the sun she leaned into his touch, and knew she’d never been as certain of anything else in her entire life.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  Stretched out on his side he looked as regal as a lion and she was only too happy to play the part of his lioness. Purring when he took her nipple into his mouth, she arched her spine, fingers clutching the rug as his hand slipped between her damp thighs to touch and tease.

  Growing bolder, she began to explore his body as he explored hers, her fingertips venturing down over his broad chest and flat stomach. A trail of wiry curls led her to his pulsing arousal. Not knowing what to do, but instinctively wanting to bring him the same pleasure he was bringing her, she encircled his member and began to run her hand from damp tip to turgid base.

  “Bloody hell,” he hissed and she stopped, fearing she’d hurt him, but the sheer ecstasy on his face revealed he was feeling anything but pain.

  They continued to stroke one another, sometimes kissing, sometimes not. Cadence lost track of the time. Of their surroundings. Of the fire. There was only Colebrook and the sensations he was wrenching from her with every delicious flick of his finger.

  The burst of heat and color came upon her unexpectedly, just as it had done in the sleigh. She cried out, lifting her hips towards Colebrook’s hand as her thighs fell open and her head fell back, blue eyes glassy with desire.

  He coaxed her back down to earth, whispering naughty words in her ear that both appalled and aroused. She felt the weight of his body as he settled on top of her, and then a different sort of weight between her thighs. Wet and willing she received him easily. There was no pain. No sharp sting she’d been warned about. Only a sense of stretching and fullness, a mild twinge of discomfort as her body grew accustomed to his wide girth, and then nothing but pleasure.

  If heaven wasn’t between Cadence’s soft white thighs, Justin didn’t want to go.

  Sweat glistened on his skin as he held himself back, the muscles in his back clenching and tightening as he tried to hold his orgasm at bay. If he could have made the moment last forever he would have, but her little heels pressing into his flanks wasn’t helping his restraint, nor were the tiny mewling sounds she made whenever he rocked so deeply inside of her he could feel her clenching around him.

  The sensation was nothing short of a bloody miracle and Justin, who had never been particularly religious, clenched his eyes shut and swore he saw Jesus as he thrust himself into Cadence’s hot, tight sheath one final time before withdrawing to spill his seed onto the floor.

  “Bloody hell woman,” he groaned, rolling off her and onto his back to stare blindly up at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined me.”

  Her hair tickled his chest as
she tucked an arm across her breasts and then leaned up on her elbow. Blue eyes sleepy and sated, she gazed down at him, a decidedly feline smile curling one side of her mouth. “How ironic. I was about to say the same thing to you.”

  Guilt struck him like a fist to the stomach. “Cadence, I–”

  “No,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “Whatever you are about to say, I do not want to hear it. This was my decision as much as it was yours. I am a woman full grown, not a naïve debutante in her first Season. I knew what I was doing.”

  His eyes gleamed. “You can say that again.”

  She squealed when he picked her up and placed her on top of him. Squealed again when she felt his hard rod nudge at her entrance. And then for a long while the only sounds she made were soft sighs, low moans, and the occasional gasp.

  When their second round of lovemaking was over they drowsed in front of the fire until the flames began to a burn a deep, dark red and the air started to cool. Justin helped Cadence back into her gown and then dressed himself, sitting down to pull on his Hessians.

  “Ready to return?” he asked, his gaze following her to the window. She stood with her back to him as she watched the falling snow. Her slender body was silhouetted in moonlight, her hair dipped in silver, her skin glowing like a pearl. She was an absolute vision, the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid his eyes upon, and this time when Justin felt a pang deep down inside of his chest he didn’t try to stop the screw from loosening. For once he let it turn…and for the first time in a very, very long time the tiny battered box where he kept all of his carefully guarded emotions cracked open...and light spilled out.

  “Yes.” She turned to face him, then frowned. “But you’ve forgotten one of your boots.”

  “What?” he said blankly.

  “You only have one boot on,” she said, pointing at his feet.

  “Right.” Feeling as if he’d just awoken from a long dream, Justin sluggishly pulled on his other Hessian, stood up, and held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  The floorboards creaked beneath Cadence’s boots as she crossed the room and slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. Her gloved fingers curled familiarly around his bicep as if they’d been there a thousand times before. As if they belonged together. Had always belonged together. Would always belong together.

  “Wait,” she said, stopping suddenly. “What about the thing you came in here to get?”

  Justin glanced down at her upturned face. At her thick lashes and her bright blue eyes and her red lips, swollen from his kisses. At her narrow chin, always tilted in such a way that leaned towards stubbornness. At her lovely neck, the ivory skin gently chafed from his beard. And there was only one answer he could think to give.

  “I already have it.”

  Chapter Ten

  Christmas came and went. The snow came and stayed. And with every cold day that passed, Cadence fell more in love with the Duke of Colebrook.

  He’d asked her to use his given name. Calling him Justin felt both wrong and right at the same time, like when she’d bought an ermine-lined cloak she knew her father couldn’t afford…but after she rubbed the soft fur against her cheek she’d been unable to leave the store without it.

  He had taken to calling her Cat, a nickname he seemed to particularly enjoy after she shared her dislike for the whiskered creatures. But she couldn’t complain. Not when he whispered it in her ear as he slid inside of her.

  Cat, you feel so good.

  Cat, you’re so bloody tight.

  Cat, I feel you clenching around me.

  Now all he had to do was say the word and her nipples hardened, her thighs quivered, and she grew damp in anticipation. Which wasn’t a problem when they were in his bedchamber, but when she was trying to take her afternoon tea in the drawing room…well, suffice it to say she’d never be able to look Elsbeth in the eye without blushing ever again.

  Justin was naughty and incorrigible; a scoundrel through and through. Their affair hadn’t changed that. If anything, he’d become even more wicked. And yet she loved every inch of him, naughty bits and all.

  She still hadn’t told him about her feelings. Honestly, she didn’t know if she ever would. If she ever could. Their affair was purely physical, and she didn’t want to ruin what they had by bringing up what they did not. If she’d been ready to enter a marriage without love, then surely she could handle being in an affair with love.

  Or so she told herself.

  “There you are.” Sauntering into the parlor where Cadence was reading an outdated edition of Ackerman’s Repository in front of the fireplace, Justin placed an absent kiss on the top of her head that made her heart ache in a very complicated way. “I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

  “I haven’t left this room since breakfast.” Noting the way his hair was flattened on one side, she set her reading material aside and rolled her eyes. “Have you been asleep all this time?”

  “No,” he said, scratching his jaw where a full beard had started to grow. It was completely out of fashion, but Cadence loved the way it felt against her…well, suffice it to say she loved the way it felt everywhere.

  “You have a line on your face from the pillowcase,” she pointed out.

  “Oh alright,” he grumbled. “But it’s not my fault I needed some extra sleep. If you hadn’t woken me up at half past one in the morning–”

  “If memory serves, you woke me up,” she reminded him.

  “Aye,” he smirked. “And aren’t you glad I did?”

  Cadence shot a quick glance at the door. She knew the servants were aware of their affair. Servants were always aware of everything. But there was a difference between forgetting her nightdress in Justin’s chambers and speaking about their lovemaking out loud where anyone could overhear.

  “What have I said about discussing bedroom matters outside of the bedroom?” she hissed.

  “That it’s an excellent topic of conversation?” Sitting on the armrest of her chair, he reached behind her and started to massage her shoulders. She swatted his hands away.

  “You know, I think you do it on purpose.”

  “Do what on purpose?”

  “Irritate me.”

  His brows gathered. “Well of course I do it on purpose. It’d be no fun otherwise. Speaking of fun, you need to get dressed for outside.”

  Cadence looked at the door again to ensure no one was listening before she batted her lashes and said, “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever told me to put on more clothes.”

  The duke wasn’t the only one who could tease. Since their visit to Colebrook Manor she’d become increasingly comfortable with the side of herself she’d always had to hide from Lord Benfield. The side that wasn’t always polished or polite or ladylike. The side that kissed dukes in drawing rooms. And parlors. And libraries. And, on at least one memorable occasion, the first floor linen closet.

  “You’re right,” he frowned. “I am probably ill. Here, feel my temple.”

  “Get off,” she giggled when he all but collapsed into her arms. After stealing a quick kiss, he bounded to his feet.

  “Come along, then. We’ve snow angels to make.”

  “Snow angels?” she repeated, certain she’d misheard him. “Those are for children.”

  “Says someone who is afraid their snow angel is going to pale in comparison to mine.”

  She pursed her lips. “Is that a challenge?”

  “We can make it one.” His teeth flashed in a grin. “The winner gets to claim a prize.”

  “Anything they want?”

  “Anything.”

  Love me as I love you.

  The thought, unbidden and unwanted, caused the color to leech from Cadence’s cheeks.

  Love wasn’t something that could be won in a contest. It couldn’t be asked for or demanded. It had to be freely given, and she desperately feared it was the one gift her duke, as rich as he was, would never be able to afford to give her.

  Which is fine
, her head argued. Positively fine. Everything is fine.

  She waited for her heart’s rebuttal, but for once it was uncharacteristically silent.

  “Cat?” said Justin, his grin fading as he studied her. “Is something the matter?”

  “No.” Forcing her lips to form something that vaguely resembled a smile, she patted his chest. “Nothing is the matter. Nothing at all. Let’s go make snow angels.”

  Something was the matter. Justin could feel it. Hell, the entire bloody household could feel it. But no matter how many different times or how many different ways he asked, Cadence always gave him the same answer: I’m fine. Everything is fine. You are being foolish.

  He may have been foolish, but even he knew that when a woman said ‘everything is fine’ what she really meant was ‘everything is awful and if you don’t find out what’s bothering me soon you’re going to be miserable for the rest of your natural born life’.

  Since he wasn’t a man who particularly enjoyed misery, he was determined to find out what was bothering his sad-eyed Cat. Unfortunately, matters weren’t helped by the fact that, for the most part, she was still acting the same as she ever had.

  Inside his bedchamber she was playful and passionate. Outside of it she was vexing and vivacious. But every once in a while he’d happen to glance at her when she didn’t know he was looking and the sadness in those crystal blue eyes would take his breath away.

  Deep down inside Justin knew what the problem was. A part of him had always known, because he knew Cadence. They may have only met a short time ago, but he already knew her like he knew himself. And because he knew her so well, he knew what she wanted. What she needed. What she was afraid to ask for and he was equally afraid to give.