Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  She pondered the notion of journeying to Lady Natalie’s holiday party, hoping to land an eligible man worthy of her first kiss. But she pushed the thought aside when a loud bark of thunder ripped through the room.

  The downpour was only swelling, along with the wind. The roads were flooded and impassable, even on horseback. And the hour was late.

  Pippa was stuck.

  At any other time, she would have been at peace with her fate, but not tonight. If an opening in the storm presented itself, she’d likely take the opportunity to flee—to London…possibly even Lady Natalie’s celebration. Anywhere other than being here alone.

  She should retire to her chambers, get some much-needed rest, and awake in a far more agreeable mood. Most things appeared brighter by morning light, or so her mother told her.

  Shaking her head, Pippa cast a sidelong glance at the covered window before setting her book aside. Staying awake would not make the night pass any quicker, or the storm dissipate any sooner. She needed a good night’s rest if her mother were to arrive in the morn, for holiday preparations would swiftly follow if she did.

  Another loud clap of thunder shook the room—but it did not cease as the others had; instead, it continued steadily.

  Surely the gates of hell were opening and releasing the ghouls and ghosts from their fiery pits. Pippa shouldn’t have opened the book of Christmastide stories. She regretted the brief moment she’d spied the hand-drawn illustrations of creatures not of this realm.

  It was then that a voice yelled above the storm, reaching her in the library.

  It was not thunder at all, but someone pounding on her door.

  She jumped to her feet and rushed toward the foyer to allow them entrance, grabbing her book and tucking it under her arm. Her parents, as radical as they were, must have thrown caution to the wind and traveled through the storm to see her. They were foolish, and their risk great; however, Pippa was overjoyed that they’d arrived.

  Many things pushed to the forefront of her mind as she ran to open the door. She needed to call Cook to prepare them a meal, their bed should be prepped for them with hot coals to warm their linens, and the stable master need be awoken to tend to their horses.

  Pippa was glad for the distraction from her previous melancholy mood.

  Turning the lock, Pippa threw the door wide, a smile lighting her face for the first time that day—only to be faced with a stranger. On her doorstep was a man completely unknown to her, his hair matted and his clothing drenched and sticking to his thin frame.

  “Is your master home?” he asked, removing his saturated hat from his balding head.

  “I am Lady Pippa.” She stared at the man intensely, waiting for him to state his business on Midcrest land and be gone.

  “My lady,” the man started over with his greeting, bowing. “I am repentant to awaken you, but my lord seeks shelter, and we have not passed an inn for many hours. The storm made it impossible for our carriage to continue on the main road.”

  Pippa remained silent as the man spoke, his body shuddering with cold as his saturated livery garb clung to him. She clutched the door with one hand to avoid it opening further in invitation, while her other arm pushed solidly against her side, keeping her book from falling to the floor.

  “I fear our carriage is knee-deep in mud with the storm continuing to increase, and it has thrown a spoke.” He looked at her expectantly, as if offering shelter was the only option for her. “My lord, the Earl of Maddox, requests refuge for the night if you will be so kind as to accept him.”

  “I…well…” Pippa’s manners abandoned her at the same time she realized she was alone on the first floor of the house. “There is an inn only—”

  A great wind hit Pippa, forcing her back, the door ripped from her hand. It slammed against the wall behind it. The sound echoed through the empty house as it collided with the tall walls of the foyer and rattled the chandelier as her loose tresses blocked her view. A moment of sheer panic seized her when her sight was taken from her.

  Pippa pushed her hair away to continue with instructing the servant to the nearest inn. “Your lord will be far more comfortable…”

  The wind whipped the last of her hair from her face to reveal not the servant from before, but a tall—very tall—broad-shouldered—very broad-shouldered—man. And that was all Pippa saw of him as her glance became locked on his chest. He was drenched, with his shirt plastered to his considerable width. It hadn’t been the wind that had knocked the door from her hands and allowed the storm access to her home, but rather the man before her.

  And he was fuming mad—his nostrils flared as water dripped from his hair and he stared at her pointedly—not bothering to mask his aggressive stance.

  “Were you truly going to turn away a man in need of shelter?” his voice boomed.

  Pippa gasped, taking yet another step back. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, hoping the noise had awoken one of her servants, abed on the third floor of the house. But none came running to aid her.

  “I knew I was venturing into the depths of hell when I agreed to come all this way from London, but are manners not taught in the wilds of Somerset?” The man ran his hands down the front of his shirt, pushing the water from his body to pool on the floor beneath him. “My servants will need space in your stables. I thank you for”—he eyed her up and down before continuing—“your hospitality, my lady.”

  He bowed before Pippa with his last words, and his breath caressed her body, making her acutely aware of two things: he smelled heavily of spirits, and she was attired in a sheer nightshift that did not leave much to the imagination.

  Excerpt

  Surrendering to My Spy

  (Linked Across Time 4)

  Dawn Brower

  Prologue

  June 1815

  Lady Rosanna Kendall strolled down the hall of her brother’s townhouse. Her brother, Edward, was the current Duke of Weston. He’d inherited the title a few years past when their father passed on. An echo of voices came through the walls. Rosanna stopped short when she recognized who was speaking with Edward in his study. Lord Seabrook was in there. “Dom,” she whispered to herself. Dominic Rossington, the Marquess of Seabrook. She’d loved him from afar most of her life, and he was now a breath away. If she dared to go into the study and interrupt them she’d be able to see him, and if she was lucky enough maybe a touch as well.

  Did she dare?

  Rosanna inched closer to the room. The door was slightly ajar. She peeked inside and saw movement. A blur of dark fabric and a slight hint of blond hair—nothing more. She wanted to have the full view of Dom’s perfection. He had to be the most handsome man in creation. He had glorious golden hair, eyes the color of a stormy gray sky, and the face of an angel. That is if an angel could master the wicked glances the marquess threw out with regularity.

  Rosanna was no fool. She knew he was a rogue of the highest accord. He made no secret he wasn’t seeking a wife and found what he desired in the arms of many other women. Her heart hurt knowing he’d never love her the same way she did him. It turned out unrequited love would be her lot in life. She shook her melancholy away and focused on their discussion. It wouldn’t do to fall into that particular line of thought. Dom would never be hers, and it was time to let the fantasy go. She’d had suitors a plenty, but not one of them measured up to her dream.

  “I wish you wouldn’t involve yourself in this,” Dom said. “James…”

  “I don’t bloody care what my brother would say,” Edward spat out. “I’m the Duke of Weston and I can do whatever I want.”

  What were they arguing about? What did it have to do with James? Rosanna hadn’t seen her other brother, Edward’s twin, in a couple of years. He’d joined a Calvary regiment and went off to fight in the war against Napoleon. She was terrified one day they’d receive news of him that wouldn’t be good. It was hard to sit with the knowledge he could be gravely injured or—she gulped—die fighting. Dom was James’s best friend
. If not for their friendship she’d not have had the opportunity to come to know Dom so well. She saw a side of him none of his chosen lovers did. He was funny, protective, and loyal to those he cared for. That was the man she’d fallen in love with. Yes, Rosanna was vain enough to realize it was his face she’d noticed first, but once she’d seen past his blinding beauty and into his soul everything changed.

  A loud crash brought her back to reality. It echoed through the room as something thudded against the wall. Rosanna jerked back and clenched her arms against herself.

  “You’re a fool,” Dom shouted. “What you’ve done…”

  “I’ve done nothing you haven’t.”

  “There is a difference and you better well realize it before you make a mistake you can’t return from.” Dom’s voice was edged with a hardness Rosanna had never heard before. What had Edward done? “Tell me what you’re reckless plan uncovered.”

  “Not here,” Edward said. “You never know who’s listening.”

  What was Edward hiding? What made him so nervous? Should she be worried? Dom appeared to be angry at her brother, and Dom never even remotely raised his voice. He was always carefree and congenial. If Edward didn’t want to discuss it at their home—it must be serious. She should leave before they exited the study. They’d both turn their ire on discovering her hovering nearby.

  “Something you should have considered before you followed a trail that could lead to your death.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Dom. That’s unlikely to happen.”

  Was Dom right? Had Edward done something that could get him killed? She’d been worried for so long about James’s safety and perhaps she’d been praying for the wrong brother. Rosanna backed away from the study and headed to the library. It was close enough to Edward’s study she’d be able to hear when they left.

  She stopped short when she realized the library wasn’t empty as she’d assumed. Lady Callista Lyon, the Countess of Marin sat on a nearby settee reading a book. She glanced up as Rosanna entered. Her dark green eyes brightened when she met Rosanna’s gaze. Callista was betrothed to her brother, Edward. They were set to be married in a sennight. The wedding was to take place at Weston Manor. The family, along with Callista’s, was scheduled to travel there by midweek.

  “I’m sorry to disrupt you,” Rosanna said. “I thought the library was unoccupied.”

  “I welcome the intrusion,” Lady Callista said and set her book down. “I sent my maid to fetch my cloak. I don’t know what is taking your brother so long, but it’s past time I went home.”

  It was rather unusual for her brother’s intended to be lounging in their library. What had the lady been thinking? She was rather independent, and a widow, but there was still propriety standards that should be adhered to. She didn’t know Lady Callista well. The little she knowledge she had consisted of, a marriage to the elderly Earl of Marin when she was eight and ten. The earl had died a mere six months after the marriage. She’d been out of mourning no more than a month before she caught Edward’s eye. It was no surprise why. Lady Callista was a beauty. She had beautiful mahogany hair and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. Her heart shaped face was exquisite. Rosanna wished she could be as graceful and poised as her. If she were more—approachable. Rosanna didn’t feel as if she could truly become close to her. She was friendly enough, but there was something elusive about her as well.

  “I have your cloak, milady. Do you wish to depart now?”

  “You’re leaving?” Edward entered the room. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I’m sorry I left you alone.”

  “It is all right. I entertained myself. We can discuss the wedding plans on the way to your estate in a couple of days.” Callista nodded at her maid. The young woman draped it over her with care. “I’ll take your leave until then.”

  Edward nodded. He didn’t even spare Rosanna a glance. “I’ll see you out.”

  It was brief and over before she’d even realized what happened. Edward’s relationship with Lady Callista was so…odd. She didn’t know what it was that bothered her. Perhaps she’d never know. In her experience it was hard to truly know what went on between two people. Only those inside it were truly aware of all the nuances. Maybe one day she’d share that wonder with another.

  “What are you doing all alone in here?”

  Rosanna turned and met Dom’s gaze. She repressed a sigh at the sight of him. This had been what she’d wanted. Some time to stare at his male beauty and to hear his voice in that low tone that sent shivers down her body. She’d never tire of being around him.

  “Edward left to escort Lady Callista to the door. I don’t rate a glance from my brother these days.” She tilted her head and studied him. “What are you doing here?” Perhaps that was insolent, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d never stood on formality where Dom was concerned. Why hadn’t he left before her brother came into the library? Were they leaving to go somewhere more private to discuss Edward’s discovery?

  “I have business with your brother, brat.” He strolled into the room. “But I can keep you company until he returns.”

  “It’s not necessary.” As much as she loved him, and adored being in his company, Rosanna was afraid she’d confess it all in a blubbery mess of need. He turned her insides to mush, and her thoughts weren’t far behind. “I am capable of spending time by myself.”

  His lids drooped low as he stared down at her. “A beautiful lady shouldn’t ever be left to her own devices. What fun would that be?”

  Was he? No, he couldn’t be. Dom appeared to be flirting with her. What game was he playing? She didn’t dare hope he wanted to court her properly. He’d never once indicated an interest in her. He wouldn’t start now. There had to be another reason for him speak to her in an overly familiar manner.

  “I’m not one of your light skirts,” she said harshly. “Don’t speak to me as if I were.”

  Dom stepped back as if she’d slapped him. Color drained from his face. “I’d never…”

  “I’d hope not.” Rosanna lifted her chin arrogantly. “I plan on marriage, and the entire ton knows how you feel about taking a wife.”

  “That they do,” he said sardonically. He gave her the once over with slow excruciating precision. “I assure you, not only do I never intend to marry, but you’re the last lady I’d ever consider.”

  He spun on his heels and left her alone. His words shattered her heart into thousands of tiny pain filled shards. What had she done? She’d pushed him away forever. Why had she spoken to him with such harshness? He hadn’t done anything untoward. Dom—was well—Dom, there wasn’t a mean bone in his body. Rosanna would never recover from her blunder.

  “Lady Rosanna,” Dominic Rossington, the Marquess of Seabrook said, with a bow. The discord between them remained palpable whenever they were near each other. She’d been so warm and welcoming in the past, but that changed with one flicker of thoughtless words flung in her direction. He should regret them, and in a way he did. It didn’t change the circumstances. Rosanna needed to understand he would never marry. He wasn’t a fool, and was very much aware of her growing attachment. In a different world he’d have been pleased and delighted at the prospect of having her as a wife. But his life didn’t leave room for one. “I apologize for intruding, but I have news I must share with you.”

  Rosanna was sitting in the library they’d last seen each other in. Had it been two days since he’d laid eyes on her? She was as beautiful as he remembered, and equally as untouchable. Her dark tresses were coiled on top of her head in an elaborate chignon, and her violet eyes observed him with cool efficiency.

  “I won’t keep you. Tell me what you must as I’m sure my company disgusts you.” Her voice was hoarse with an unidentifiable emotion. “I believe I’m the last person you wish to have any sort of discourse with.”

  This had to be about his last remark about her being the last lady he’d ever marry. No young lady liked to hear those words thrown at them. Dom had been th
e worst kind of swine to say them aloud to her. He meant them though, but not for the reasons she assumed. Lady Rosanna Kendall was too good for him. He would taint her by spending any amount of time in her company. She deserved a husband who would cherish and adore her. Someone who didn’t have the reputation he’d carefully cultivated over the past few years.

  “I promise you, I don’t distain you in the slightest.” His forehead creased. “You’re to go to Weston Manor in the morning, and I had to tell you…”

  How could he say it? She’d be devastated once she learned of the news. The whole family would be. What about James? How was he to tell his best friend he was responsible for what happened to Edward. If he’d been able to stop him in his foolhardy inquiries…

  “What is it?” Rosanna leaned forward and studied him. “You’re not usually at a loss for word.”

  Dom didn’t want to hurt her, had never wanted to do her any kind of harm. The words that were currently lodged in his throat would surely cause her no small amount of pain. But he had to tell her before someone else did. She should hear the news from someone who cared about her and her family.

  “There was an accident…”

  Rosanna leapt up and strode toward him. “Is it James?”

  Of course she’d jump to that conclusion. Why wouldn’t it be James? He was at war and on the front lines. He shook his head. “No, it isn’t James.”

  “Who is it?” she demanded. “You’re scaring me.”

  Dom closed his eyes and prayed for strength. Rosanna was the one woman he’d always admired and vowed to take care of. No other had ever mattered as much to him. He’d lay down his life to protect her, and here he was about to destroy a part of her. It had to be done.

  “Edward’s carriage hit something in the road. A wheel broke and it tipped over the side of a bridge. He—didn’t make it to Weston Manor.” He stared into her violet eyes and said morosely, “It’s with greatest sympathy I must tell you that your brother, Edward, The fourth Duke of Weston, has died.”