Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  His breaths came thick and fast as he made his way over the hills surrounding the castle. The snow had begun to fall more heavily and was past his ankles now. His leather boots protected his feet well enough and he wore thick woollen socks but he had not seen snow like this since being in the Alps. His ears began to hurt and he tugged up the scarf to protect his face. Perhaps he should have dug out some of his proper mountaineering attire.

  The tips of the trees came into view once he made it over the next hill. Like splashes of dark green against a blank canvas, they dotted the snowy landscape for almost as far as the eye could see. He hoped there were some young trees that would fit well into the drawing room.

  Alex propped the axe on his shoulder and started down the slope to the edge of the woods. He might not be able to seduce his own wife, but chopping trees—or anything that involved physical activity—he was good at. If he could master mountains and the outdoors, surely he could master his wife?

  Chapter 4

  The silence at Balmead never normally bothered Emma. But then she did not normally have a husband in residence. With only their limited amount of staff, the only sounds that accompanied her morning meal was the pop of the fire behind her and the patter of snow against the window. She peered out at the building snow and clinked her nails against her cup impatiently. Where was he and what was taking him so long? She should have braved seeing him first thing. How was she ever to entice him into her bed if she didn’t even spend time with him?

  Emma sipped her tea and leaned back to peer out of the window once more. Snow was starting to pile up on the window ledge, obscuring her view so she stood and carried her cup of tea to the window to keep watch. She shook her head. All Mr Hampton has said was that he went out early with an axe. What did he need an axe for?

  She tapped her foot and studied the white scenery. If there had been any evidence of the direction he had gone in, it had been obliterated by the heavy snowfall. What if he was injured or hurt? It didn’t matter that Alexander had spent a year climbing mountains in France or wherever else he had been, he could still be harmed. Her stomach churned and she discarded the cup on the carved bureau.

  A flash of something on top of the hill made her heart flip. She rested her hands on the sill and pressed her nose to the window. Was it him? She couldn’t tell through the wet glass. Snatching her skirts in one hand, she raced to the door and hauled it open, heart thudding. Wind and snow whipped around her.

  It was him. Emma released a long breath. She scowled and squinted through the heavy snowfall. What on earth was he carrying? He was a mere dark dot against the pristine white of the hills but he seemed to be pulling something behind him. As Alexander drew closer—at a frustratingly slow pace—it became clear he was dragging a tree. He had put her through all this worry for a tree! Honestly!

  When he reached the door, he offered a wide grin. This time her heart flipped over in excitement. She didn’t think she had ever seen him smile like that. It made his already handsome face that much more enticing. Snow clung to his fair hair and had dampened the length of it, so much of it stuck to his face.

  She stepped back to let Alexander drag in the huge tree. She squeaked and stumbled farther back as a branch threatened to trip her up.

  “What is this?” she asked as he released the tree and shut the door.

  “A tree.”

  “I know but...”

  “I wanted a tree.” He lifted a shoulder and unbuttoned his coat.

  She took his scarf from him and looked him over from head to toe. “You are soaked and you must be freezing.” She found Mr Hampton standing nearby and handed him the wet scarf. “Fetch His Grace some tea will you? Or hot cocoa.”

  “Hot cocoa? I’m not a child.”

  “No, but you’ve been out in the cold for hours. Come into the drawing room and get warm.”

  “I should get the tree set up.”

  “You will need a bucket and some sand first. Come and get warm, then we can worry about the tree.”

  He stared at her for several moments, a crease appearing between his brows. Emma supposed she had never really told him what to do before, and a duke rarely had anyone tell him what to do. Still, she refused to spend her Christmas looking after a poorly duke and if she was to ever fall pregnant, she needed him in full health.

  Emma took his arm and led him into the drawing room to sit him by the fire. He stared at her some more as she kneeled before him and began to draw off his soaked boots. Heat from the fire licked over her skin and further warmth flared inside, flooding her body when she glanced up at him.

  With his hair darkened and curling around his face in damp tendrils, and drips trailing from his face down to his open collar, made her mouth turn dry. The collar of his shirt was damp too and almost transparent. His skin looked bronzed against it—no doubt he had gained the colour on his travels as she didn’t remember him being quite so sun-kissed before.

  But while a flurry of sensation uncoiled inside her, none of it could be attributed to nerves as usual. As she placed his boots by the fire, courage began to fill her. This—taking care of someone—felt so natural. She so longed to be able to do the same for a child. Motherhood had long been her dream. Her parents were hardly models of parenthood and she was determined to do a better job.

  Drawing a blanket from the back of one of the chairs, she came to put it around his shoulders, leaning over him to coax him forward. Alexander frowned at her but did as she bid. One of the footmen entered and placed a tray with steaming cups on the side as she finished tucking the blanket around him. She smiled her thanks and rose to hand a cup to Alexander.

  “I am quite well, you know,” he grumbled and took the cup of cocoa from her.

  Emma couldn’t help but smile. For all his protests, he seemed happy enough to let her tend to him. “I won’t have you ailing, Your Grace.”

  She took her own cup and sat on the chair opposite. The scene struck her as cosy. It was something neither of them had done before. Their first month of marriage had been taken up with adjusting to living in a new home and being cautiously polite to one another while doing their best to avoid moments like these.

  But then, she had barely known him. Three dances they had shared before he proposed. Three. How was anyone to know someone well enough to spend a lifetime with them after a mere three dances?

  “You should have told someone where you were going,” she said after taking a sip of the hot cocoa.

  “It was hardly the Himalayas. I only went to the woods.”

  “Yes, but it is so easy to come to harm in weather like this. What if you had hurt yourself or... I don’t know... chopped off an arm or some such.”

  A brow rose and she noted the slight twitch of his lips. “I take it you do not have much confidence in my tree felling skills.”

  “It could happen!” Emma declared.

  “Emma, I have climbed mountains and travelled through some of the harshest weather known to man. A little Scottish snowfall would not hinder me and I assure you, I have very little intention of chopping off any of my limbs.”

  She felt a giggle rise and she let it slip. It was not very ladylike perhaps, but she couldn’t help herself and his eyes crinkled and softened. It was certainly worth that reaction to go against everything her parents had ever taught her about laughing and joking in public.

  After another sip, she forced herself to keep her expression serious. “Nevertheless, I am sure you didn’t do any of those things alone, did you?”

  “What do you know of mountaineering?” His eyebrows darted up.

  “I’ve read a lot. Obviously books cannot make up for the real experience, I am sure, but I know that it is not wise to climb alone.”

  In truth, she had read them in some hopes of understanding her husband but they had not made his motives any clearer to her. Some form of escape, she assumed. A way to run away from her. But most men simply escaped to one of their country estates or even London. Never did they go scurryi
ng up mountains to run away from their wives.

  “You are right, and I never did. I have several fine friends from the Alpine Club with whom I travelled.”

  “It is odd, because I always thought climbing mountains must be to gain that sense of isolation yet how can that be when you are with several other men?”

  He shook his head. “No, it was never about isolation.”

  “The challenge then?”

  “I’ve always been an active man, unable to sit still for long. Even as a boy I climbed trees and got myself into all sorts of pickles. But it’s the reward that is the enticement,” Alexander explained and leaned forwards, his elbows upon his knees. “You should see it, Emma. You feel as though you are God. On top of the world and looking down.”

  “That sounds a little blasphemous, Your Grace.”

  The excitement dulled from his eyes and Emma regretted the words, wishing them back. She had never seen him look so alive. If only she could conjure up such a look.

  “And after Christmas, what is next? More mountains.”

  He leaned back and contemplated her. “No, no more mountains. I have another challenge in mind.”

  Her husband sipped his drink nonchalantly and settled his gaze on the fire. She took in his features as the golden glow skipped over them and brought out the strong dip in his chin. His hair had dried into a wild disarray that made her fingers twitch to touch it. A challenge, he said. She had set herself one of her own, but it was unlikely her challenge was anything like his. Alexander was a man of action. Could she possibly be a woman of action? Could she really seduce her erstwhile husband and achieve her own dream?

  Chapter 5

  Alex’s gaze had slipped to study Emma several times while they finished their drinks. He’d never seen this side of her before. Well, in truth, he had not seen many sides to her. He supposed he had not really stayed long enough to witness anything but her cool, haughty guise. Guise? Was it a front of some sort? Or was that who she really was and this was some act? He hardly knew. The soft smile on her face, the way she spoke with so much curiosity appeared genuine, but then was this not the woman who had run into her lover’s arms a mere month after their wedding day?

  He placed the empty cup back on the tray and raked his hands through his hair. He was warm and dry enough but it was sorely tempting to sit by the fire and steal glances at her all day. The glow of the flames brought out golden highlights in her hair and warmed her pale skin. The gown she wore was also a golden colour and she gleamed like an angel on top of the tree.

  It was an enticing picture indeed, the beautiful wife, the snow outside, the roaring fire and sweet, hot drinks. There were times on the mountains when he might have been more willing to turn around and return home if he knew this was waiting for him.

  Clearing his throat, he stood, causing the blanket to slip from his shoulders. She lifted her gaze to him, those blue eyes so wide and wary. For all the progress they had just made, he had a long way to go, he feared.

  “Where are you going?” A tremble sat in her voice, and he wondered if she did not expect him to storm out the door at any moment and head back to the mountains.

  For all his time spent away, he had to wonder if he’d made the right decision. Should he have stayed and risked humiliation to try to woo his wife? Perhaps, but then he had never been the type to think much through. Which was exactly why he would not fall foul to his impulses now. His seduction of Emma would be carefully thought out.

  If only he had some idea where to start...

  “I’m going to fetch a bucket. I’d like that tree up before our families arrive tomorrow.”

  Emma glanced at the window. “I fear they shall not make it if this weather continues.”

  He grimaced to himself. The snow fell thick and fast and soon the roads would be impassable. As it was, they would hinder the carriages so much so that they would be lucky if their families arrived in time for Christmas Day. Alex had no particular fondness for his cousins but he should have liked to have seen his mother and if he was left alone with Emma, what in the devil would he do with her? It was not as though he could spend the entire festive season seducing her.

  “I’ll be a moment.” Alex found Hannah stringing some berries as promised and she had even parcelled up some sweetmeats. “Wonderful work, Hannah.” Alex snatched one and stuffed it in his mouth as he went by and she tutted at him. He found the bucket he’d spotted earlier in the storage room.

  “I’ll send one of the maids to fetch the rest of the decorations. Are you nearly done?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Just a few more berries to go,” the cook said.

  Grinning, he snatched one more sweetmeat, scarcely avoiding a tap to the hand. When he returned to the drawing room, he found Hampton and one of the footmen dragging in the tree as Emma directed them. The butler looked on the verge of keeling over so Alex swiftly took over after placing the bucket in the corner of the room.

  “We weren’t sure where you wanted it,” Emma said.

  “This corner will do perfectly.”

  She twined her hands together and glanced up at the ceiling. “I hope it fits.”

  “It will do fine,” he said as he wrapped his arms around the base of the tree. “Hannah had some decorations and she said something about candles.”

  “I shall fetch them from her in just a moment.”

  “Oh, I said to get one of the maids,” he muttered as they began to heft the tree up.

  One of the branches nearly poked his eye out and the needles jabbed through his clothes. He hoped this tree was worth it. He felt ridiculously excited about it—like a schoolboy on Christmas Eve—but it had been years since he’d had a Christmas tree. It hardly seemed the sort of thing a bachelor bothered with.

  “Careful,” Emma exclaimed as they began to lift it and the top grazed the wrought iron chandelier above, sending it swinging on creaky hinges.

  With a few curses and lots of grunts, Alex managed to wrangle the tree into the bucket. Hampton had already arrived with a decent amount of sand likely scrounged from one of the fire buckets, and he poured it around the base until the tree was steady. Alex took a moment to step back and admire it. It was a little on the large side, but once he pushed aside the chaise, it would be just fine.

  “Thank you,” he said to the footman.

  When he turned to Emma, he found her digging through a trunk and drawing out some ribbons. “Oh look what Mr Hampton found. Isn’t he clever?”

  Alex strode over and peered in the trunk. “I didn’t know we still had these. I remember some of these decorations from when I was a boy. Mother wanted to be as fashionable as all the London houses and spent a fortune having decorations sent over from Germany.”

  “They are beautiful,” she said, lifting out some baubles and finally a large star.

  Alex had to pause as his heart did a flip in his chest. Light reflected off the star and over her face. She was radiant, stunning...heart-stopping. He’d always known his wife was beautiful, but the look of wonder on her face combined with the sweetest smile had him convinced he had never quite seen her true beauty until now.

  Her gaze locked with his and her smile wavered. He noted the faint flutter of her pulse in her neck. Did she look at him and feel this same attraction? If she did, why had she taken a lover? Did she love the man?

  He broke the connection and turned back to the tree. “We should put the candles on first.”

  “Should we not put the ribbons on before?”

  Hands on his hips, he pivoted and nodded begrudgingly. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  They worked silently for some time, looping the ribbons and berries before hanging the baubles and placing the candles and their holders about the tree. Emma lifted the star again. “Would you like to put it on? I don’t think I am tall enough.”

  He eyed the top of the tree and conceded she was certainly far too small to reach. But for some reason he felt it important she place the star on the top. After all, this had b
een his idea and she had willingly helped. “I could lift you,” he suggested.

  The sweetest smile slipped over her lips. Alex had to wonder if this woman really was capable of deception at all. He could not imagine this attractive, sweet thing betraying him with a lover.

  “Very well then.”

  She came to stand in front of him and he turned her around with his hands to her waist so they stood with their sides to the tree.

  “If you put one hand to my shoulder it will be easier,” he told her, then clamped his teeth together as a surge of need rolled through him. Having her delicate waist underneath his palms, feeling each of her breaths fired his desire. He longed to see her body again and, this time, use it properly.

  All in due time, he reminded himself.

  He lifted her with ease—she was a light thing after all. Once she had placed the star on top, he lowered her to the ground, her body sliding down his. His teeth crashed together so hard, he feared he’d shattered every one of them and would have to live off soup for the rest of his life.

  Hands still on her waist, he gazed down at her. She lifted her chin and met his gaze. There was no apprehension, only the darkening of her pupils. This was it. He could start his seduction here. Here, now, with her breasts rising and falling against him. Could she feel his arousal? It felt as though it might burn through his trousers, it was that hard and hot. If she did, apparently it didn’t scare her.

  When he removed a hand from her body to cup her cheek, he realised his fingers trembled. Soft, smooth, the feel of her skin against his rough palms summoned memories of her in his bed on their wedding night. He had been more nervous than when facing a steep climb with little more than an axe and a rope, and she had been the same. They had fumbled their way through the act and he was left in no doubt she had found it painful and tiresome.

  But as he cradled her face, her lips parted and her lashes fluttered. He saw no nervousness, and certainly no repulsion or boredom. Perhaps her lover had left her and now she was in need of satisfaction. That might explain her reaction to him. As strong as his desire was—and his need to get her with child—he did not like the thought of her jumping from his arms into another. In fact, it made him feel downright primeval. Words like mine tumbled through his mind. Thoughts of the threats he might use to send her lover away swamped him.