Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  That is the way she stayed until the driver returned with help. After they had Grayson loaded in the carriage they all headed back toward the village. The innkeeper and a couple of brawny lads helped carry him up to a room they’d prepared. A doctor had been summoned. Juliette sat in the main room and waited for the prognosis. As soon as they let her she’d return to his side. He was her responsibility and she’d make sure he made a full recovery.

  Someone was beating his head with a hammer. Whoever dared was going to feel the back of his fist in their face. Grayson slowly opened his eyes and found the soft glow of candlelight. Juliet sat in a chair next to the bed. Her head lulled back against the chair. Her dark tresses were unbound and falling over her shoulder. He wanted to reach over and stoke them. They looked so soft inviting—hell everything about her did. Where were they? The last thing he remembered was being in the carriage, and then… Had they been in an accident?

  He stretched his arms and fell back on the bed once again. The sharp pain shooting through his head was agonizing. Grayson lifted his hands and rubbed his temples. The torment dulled to a mild, and tolerable ache.

  “You’re awake,” she said.

  Slowly he turned to meet her gaze. “What happened?”

  “Carriage wheel broke. It will be prepared by morning.”

  That explained part of it, but he still didn’t understand how he ended up in a warm bed with her keeping vigil. “How long have I been out?”

  “Not too long,” she replied. “Well most of the day. You missed the midday meal. The doctor doesn’t want you to have anything heavy. So the cook is making you a nice broth. It should arrive shortly if you’re hungry.”

  His stomach rumbled at the mention of food. “I don’t care what the doctor said. Broth won’t be enough. Have them bring me a full meal.”

  Grayson realized he sounded like a petulant child, but his head hurt and he was hungry. The Duke of Kissinger always got what he wanted, and he wanted food, darn it. He turned his head a little too fast and the pain returned in full force. A wince escaped him before he could stop it.

  “You’re being absurd,” she chastised. “Here let me massage your head. Just close your eyes and relax.”

  Juliette sat down on the bed next to him and placed her hands on either side of his head. She pressed her delicate fingers against his temples and rubbed slowly. He moaned in pleasure. The pain disappeared under her careful ministrations. It was amazing and he’d gladly lay there forever if she allowed it.

  A knock echoed through the room and firmly ending the pleasure she’d been administering. She stood quickly and went to see who disturbed their peace. Juliette opened the door and greeted the interloper. Grayson wanted them gone so she could return to attending him. When she returned to his side she carried a tray with two mugs. Steam rose out of each one and his stomach rumbled again at the scents wafting from them.

  “What is that?”

  “These,” she gestured toward them. “Are the broth you didn’t want. Do you wish for me to send them back down to the kitchen?”

  Was she only having broth too? She should have more sustenance. There was no reason for her to abstain—she’d not been injured or had she? “Give me a mug. You should go down to the kitchen and eat something. Broth isn’t enough for you.”

  Juliette shook her head. “Both are for you.” She set the tray on the chair and turned to him. “Let me help you sit up.”

  She thought she was going to take care of him? In a way he supposed she had been. But now that he was awake he’d not let her cater to his every need. The pain was already easing in his head and he could damn well sit up on his own. “I can do it myself.” He struggled to a sitting position and then turned toward her. Grayson flashed her a smug smile. “Hand me a mug.”

  Juliette picked one up and gave it to him. He took a slow sip and let the flavor settle on his tongue. It tasted so damn good he sighed in delight. It was a nice beef broth with a hint of onion and sage. She’d said both were for him. If that was true when would she find sustenance? “Have you eaten?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’ve had plenty to eat.”

  He sipped more broth and stared at her over the rim of the mug. “What are you not telling me?” She was acting rather evasive.

  “Nothing,” she replied a little too fast.

  Grayson narrowed his gaze and said, “I’m not a dimwitt. Tell me now.”

  Juliette fidgeted a moment and then moved toward the chair. She picked up the tray and set it on the bed beside him. Grayson downed the contents of the mug in his hand and set it on the tray. He picked the other one up and took a drink. He waited patiently, or as much as he was able to, for her to speak. She had a confession, or an idiotic notion, and it would take her a moment or two to divulge it. As a child she’d done something similar. It was rather nice to see some things didn’t change.

  “It hasn’t escaped me that you’d not have been hurt if not for me,” she finally said. “If you don’t want to go through with the marriage, I understand. In fact, I think we should return to London. Maybe I can try reasoning with my father.”

  Grayson clenched the mug tightly in his hand. Where did she get these hare-brained ideas from? It wasn’t her fault the wheel broke on the carriage. “Did you sabotage the wheel?”

  “Of course not.” She snorted. “Why would I do that?”

  “Then I fail to see how you’re to blame for any of this.” He took another sip of the broth and waited. She’d have some outlandish reason, and it might prove entertaining—if this whole line of thinking hadn’t already angered him beyond reason.

  “That still doesn’t negate my culpability,” she said. “You would be at home, warm in your own bed if I hadn’t sought your help.” She bit her bottom lip. “You could’ve died, Gray. If that had happened, I’d never forgive myself.”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “This all could’ve happened at any moment. Don’t bother saying what you planned on spouting off next. We’re continuing on to Scotland. You’re going to be my wife and you best adapt to the idea. I keep my promises.”

  “If you’re sure,” she said. “I still think there’s time to go back.”

  He finished the broth and set the mug aside. “Jules, you must realize there’s no turning back. You’re thoroughly compromised. Not only were you in my home unchaperoned, but we’ve been alone in my carriage for hours, and I don’t know how long in this room. Accept your fate—you will be mine forever and always.”

  For the first time since she’d shown up at his home the idea of spending the rest of his life with her by his side—felt right. A weight lifted and he realized he’d been wrong. She’d always been the light in his life. He could be better for her and would be.

  “You’re right,” she agreed.

  “How about that.” He laughed. “Twice in less than a day you’re agreeing with me, or has it been more than that. Keep it up and it will be a habit you’re unable to break.”

  She smiled. “Unlikely, but I do have enough intelligence to realize when I’m wrong.”

  “Come here, Jules.” He patted the bed. “Lay down beside me and rest. In the morning we begin our trip again.”

  His soon to be duchess didn’t argue. She picked up the tray and set it back on the chair, then crawled beside him on the bed. He pulled her into his arms and she nestled against him. Her head rested on his chest, and she fell fast asleep. For a moment, everything seemed right in the world, and Grayson started to believe happy endings were possible.

  Chapter 7

  Their trip to Scotland had started all right, was side-lined slightly by a broken wheel, and then resumed without much ado. They’d been back on the road for several days with non-stop travel. Each day had blended into the next. It was hard to tell where one ended and the other started. Perhaps Grayson should have kept better track, and if he’d have to guess it had been over four days inside the coach with Juliette, but honestly it had stopped mattering to him. The end r
esult would still culminate to one thing—them standing together reciting marriage vows.

  They didn’t stop at an inn overnight again, but they did take small breaks. The horses were changed on a regular basis, and they stretched their legs, or took care of other needs during the process. After the delay with the wheel Grayson hadn’t wanted to stop unless it was essential. Something niggled at the bottom of his stomach. He fully believed if they dallied too much they’d not make it to Gretna Green in time.

  Juliette believed her father didn’t have any idea where she may have gone, and he might not. He didn’t want to take any needless chances. She was going to be his wife. Once he made up his mind there was no turning back. That ridiculousness of a name only marriage wasn’t happening either. He’d inform her of that when it mattered—on their wedding night.

  “I’ve never been so tired of staring at the inside of a carriage in my life,” Juliet complained. “Surely we must be close to Scotland by now.”

  He didn’t blame her one bit. The journey to Scotland’s border was long and tedious, and cold as hell in the middle of the winter months. The further they traveled inland the more frigid it seemed to get too. “It won’t be long. We should arrive at Gretna Green by nightfall.”

  “This isn’t how I imagined Christmastide to be,” she said quietly. “Not that I’ve had an enjoyable one in a long time.”

  The last carefree Christmastide he’d experienced was his final one with her. Sure he’d had fun and gave a good resemblance of reveling in the festivities, but his heart hadn’t been in it. None of it had ever compared to his childhood—back when he’d been too young for his father to take notice of them. Sometimes he longed for that ignorance. It had been a much simpler time.

  “When was the last time Christmastide was worth remembering for you?” He wondered if it was the same time as his. Probably not, but if so they’d have that in common. Although Grayson hoped it wasn’t true. He’d wanted her to go on and have many happy times without him.

  “The last one that was perfect was with you,” she said. “I did have good ones after that. They weren’t the same without you, but my mother did her best to make everything around her bright. She was a good woman.”

  “You miss her.” It was a statement more than a question. Of course she’d miss her mother. The countess had been a wonderful woman. It was more than making things bright as Juliette had put it. She was kind and generous to all around her. “She wouldn’t want you to be forlorn. I know it’s hard, but try to remember the times you were happiest.”

  She remained quiet and pensive. “Her death was sudden and I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. One day we were planning which balls to attend, and the next she breathed no more.” Juliette fidgeted in the seat next to him. “I’m not sure what happened. We were in the sitting room, her face turned red, and she started to rub her arm. Soon after that, she collapsed.”

  “It had to be difficult to watch,” he said quietly. He wasn’t entirely sure how his father died and hadn’t cared to ask. His mother had barely managed to reach him in time to inform him of his father’s death—not that it had mattered much in the end. Grayson had been summoned to return and attend the farce of a funeral his mother arranged at Kissinger Castle. The man who’d sired him hadn’t respected him, and therefore Grayson hadn’t seen any reason to attend the ceremony honoring his life. His mother still held that against him. She’d called him an ungrateful wretch, and he couldn’t argue with her on that assessment. At the very least he was a wretch, and hadn’t given a damn. He’d not mourned his father, and sure as hell didn’t miss the rotten bastard.

  “It was,” she said. “But it was years ago. I don’t wish to dwell on it. You’re right, she wouldn’t want me to be sad.”

  The carriage rolled to a stop. Grayson peeked out the window to check out their surroundings. They halted in front of an inn. “It appears we’ve arrived. Come let’s see if we can let rooms for the night and then see who can perform the ceremony.”

  Their discussion had taken a turn neither one of them wished to continue. It was morbid and not generally a topic brought up before pending nuptials. Of course most couples on the brink of marriage weren’t as melancholy as they’d been. What kind of marriage would they have at this rate? They barely knew each other, and what they did was a piece of their childhood they were probably better off forgetting. Grayson hadn’t believed marriage would suit him. It was part of the reason he’d been so adverse to it. The other was he hadn’t cared if the ducal line continued. He came from a long line of mean-spirited males. What if he had a son and he was worse than his father had been. Not that Grayson was much better—he’d taken a different path, but it hadn’t exactly been decent and caring.

  Grayson stepped out of the carriage and then turned to help Juliette out. She placed her gloved hand in his. It was a trusting gesture one born of familiarity. “I’m exhausted. I think when I’m finally able to lay down and sleep in truth it will be for a whole sennight.”

  He laughed. “I’ll be right next to you. It sounds glorious.”

  They walked into the inn and were greeted by the owner. “How may I help you?”

  “We need two of your best rooms,” he demanded.

  The man moved around restlessly. “I’m sorry but we’re full up. We’ve only one room available.”

  Of course there was. By the time he planned on sharing it with Juliet they should be man and wife, but he’d hope to give her some privacy. Especially as he’d not explained how he’d decided to no longer have a marriage in name only. He craved to touch her, make love to her, and make her his in every way possible. Grayson was rather proud of his restraint thus far. He’d been the proper gentleman and hadn’t even kissed her. Though he’d give anything to touch his lips to hers.

  She touched his arm with her hand. He turned and met her gaze. “One room will be fine,” she said reassuringly. “We can make do.”

  He nodded. “Can you direct us to the local parishioner?”

  “You’re wanting to wed?” The innkeeper grinned. “It is a common occurrence here. We’ve plenty Englishman bringing their intendeds to elope. The smithy can perform the ceremony.”

  “The smithy?” he raised an eyebrow.

  “Aye,” the innkeeper said. “He’s a fine set up for weddings. Has everything a couple needs to make the deed legal.”

  That was what they needed more than anything. To make sure the wedding was legal and binding. If Juliette’s father hoped to challenge the match they had to do everything right. Though as a duke, Grayson had a better chance of winning a battle over the legitimacy of his marriage. His name held power, and it was the only thing he was grateful to his father for. It gave him the means to protect Juliette, and he’d take anything within his grasp to ensure that.

  “Please direct us to his location,” Grayson replied, “And then inform my servant where he can deliver our trunks.” He started to walk away with Juliette’s arm tucked under his arm, but then stopped. “Can you have a hot bath set up as well.”

  “Very well, my lord.”

  “I’m the Duke of Kissinger,” Grayson replied. “If everything meets my requirements you will be well rewarded.”

  “I will ensure it myself,” he bowed. “Your Grace.”

  Grayson led Juliette out of the inn, intending to head straight to the smithy. The sooner they married, the more relaxed he could be. This whole trip had made him overly anxious. Her safety was up to him. If he failed her he’d never forgive himself.

  “Pardon me, Your Grace,” his driver said. “There’s something you should know.”

  He stopped and met his driver’s gaze. “What is it?”

  “While I was inquiring about stabling the carriage and our mounts I overheard something.”

  The man was wearing his patience thin. At the rate he was delivering his news they’d freeze in place. “Let me escort Juliette to the smithy’s place of business, and then you can explain it to me. I don’t want her standin
g in the cold.”

  He nodded. “Please hurry, it’s urgent.”

  Grayson nodded and headed in the direction of the smithy. “You’re shaking.”

  “It’s cold,” she replied.

  “You’re not scared are you?” She’d been brave up until this point. Marriage was an important and life altering step. Was she having second thoughts? He hoped not. They’d both made a decision and they were sticking to it. Soon she’d be his duchess in every way. His body ached to join with hers. “There’s no turning back now.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she replied. “It really is cold.”

  He nodded. The more time he spent in Scotland, albeit only a short distance over the border, he hated it. The frigid weather was enough to freeze his bollocks off. He had to take her word for it that it was the chilly temperature causing her to shake. They stopped at a nearby building, and he knocked on the door. It creaked open slowly. A rather rotund man greeted them merrily. “Are you two seeking to be married?”

  “We do,” Grayson replied. “Can you assist us?”

  “Aye,” he replied. “Please come in. My daughter and her husband can act as witnesses.” He moved aside to allow them to enter. “My name is Elliot.”

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Elliot,” Juliette replied. “Thank you so much for letting us intrude on your evening.”

  “Think nothing of it lass,” he said. “You’re not the first to do so, and I expect you won’t be the last.”

  Grayson’s impatience was running deep. He wanted this done, along with the conversation with his driver. What had the man believed so damn important to interrupt him on the way to his wedding. He wasn’t prone to dramatics so it had to be vital. The sooner the ceremony was over the more relaxed he would be.