Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  Then he eyed her filthy gown and wet sleeves, and stood. “Come, you need to change or you’ll catch a chill.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, taking his offered hand and standing. A little disappointment shuttered her gaze but surely she did not wish him to take her here like a barbarian?

  “I certainly won’t have you ailing at Christmas.”

  “But any other time you would?” She grinned.

  Alex shook his head with a chuckle. She had a quick tongue and quite the sense of humour. He really hadn’t known his wife at all.

  Leading her upstairs, he shoved open the door and released her hand to begin pouring the bath. He turned, rested against the porcelain, his arms folded, and found her grinning at him wickedly. Now thoughts of her innocence seemed foolish, but he could not deny liking having that gleam in her eye directed at him. She pushed the door shut and closed the gap.

  He reached for her and rested his hands on her hips, his head against her breasts. His heart pounded and his arousal ached. His intention had been for her to wash and change, then he would worry about himself, but she had other ideas. Should he not let her get clean and take her to bed later? Was that not the proper thing to do?

  However, none of his imaginings were the remotest bit proper. He pictured her skin wet and glossy, and covered in soap. Then he thought of her straddling his legs in the bathtub. He’d heard enough bawdy talk at the Alpine Club to picture it without ever having done it himself. Their lovemaking had been confined to the bed, with him on top.

  But the ideas he had were far removed from everything they had done before. He only hoped he could truly please her this time.

  Emma dropped to her knees and looked up at him, her hands pressed to his thighs. The water sloshed against the porcelain tub and nearly drowned out her tiny plea to him, “Kiss me, please.”

  Alex took her face and smoothed a thumb along her jaw and down her neck. Her pulse fluttered and he saw her throat work, but there was no fear or apprehension. She seemed to be experiencing the very same powerful desire he was.

  Dropping his mouth to hers, he kissed her until she was breathless and trembling in his arms. Then he drew her to her feet and set to work on the buttons of her dress. Emma’s hair was wild and tumbling about her shoulders, her lips full and glossy. She gazed at him with utter trust, and it squeezed his heart. It had all been a mistake, it had to have been. So who was that man and why had she been embracing him? Alex cursed his impulsive nature. Why had he not simply confronted her and discovered the truth rather than running away like a silly schoolboy?

  But as he slipped her gown from her shoulders and was confronted by the lacing of her corset, he understood now that he had been no better than a silly schoolboy a year ago, with little idea how to look after a wife and even less of an idea about himself. Perhaps he shouldn’t have left, but he had learned a lot from the older gentleman of his acquaintance and even more about his endurance and determination. He would make this a good marriage. He would.

  Turning his attention to the bottom half of her gown, he pushed it from her hips until it pooled into a green puddle on the floor along with her petticoats and bustle. She kicked the bundle aside so that it skidded across the tiled floor and hit the wall. They both laughed.

  This was what had been missing, he realised, as he gazed at her glowing face. Laughter. Theirs had been a serious arrangement. One made logically and carefully. His attraction to her had simply been an added advantage. Her rank and wealth had been the primary enticement. And thus, their first night together had been a serious matter too. A sealing of the deal, so to speak. With them both being virgins, it was hardly surprising neither had done a fine job of it.

  However, now she seemed more than happy to let him make up for it. He only hoped this time apart spent with worldlier men had taught him enough to please her.

  Alex’s hands trembled as he knelt to slip off her shoes and push down her stockings. His thumb brushed her calf as he did so and he saw her skin prick. It gratified to see he had as much of an effect on her as she did on him. Once he had flung them aside so they landed on top of her gown, he stood and placed a palm to the base of her spine. She was no more exposed to him than in her gown really, with only her ankles and delicate feet showing, yet his blood fired at the sight of her in all that white cotton.

  Her nipples pressed against her combination, her breasts pressed high by the corset. Her waist was cinched in by the lace corset and he couldn’t wait to free her of the confines and feel the softness of her skin.

  With his hand on her back, Alex drew her into him and used a finger to tilt her face to his. “I should not take you here. It should be in a bedroom. I have much time to make up for.”

  “You do,” she said, nuzzling into his palm.

  He let his brows rise. He had half expected Emma to make excuses for him, but there were none. His meek little bride was not so meek after all, something he had been learning these past few days together. He could not help but think being snowed in together was quite the blessing.

  “I shouldn’t have left. I gave you too much work. I shall stay from now on. Every moment I can, I’ll be here.” And help her address her terrible finances, he added to himself. He had not been too happy to see the state of things. But for the moment, he would ignore their financial problems. He had much more important things to worry about for now. Like his enthusiastic wife.

  “I don’t expect you to hang about my skirts, waiting on me, Your Grace. But I should like to have my husband around much more.”

  “Enough with this Your Grace nonsense,” he grumbled and trailed his hand from her cheek down her arm and rested it upon her rear. The sweet give of flesh made his body pulse anew. “I am Alex, your husband, your lover,” he whispered the last word as he lowered his lips to hers.

  “A-Alex,” she stuttered, forcing him to pause. “I must tell you—”

  A rap at the door made him pause and consider his surroundings.

  “Your Grace, is all well? Water is coming through the ceiling,” Hampton called through the door.

  “Bloody hell.” He lifted his foot and stared at the puddle of water on the floor. “Damnation.” He released Emma and hurried over to turn off the taps. Glancing at her half clothed state, he cursed again and lifted her gown. “Hampton, go fetch help.” He waited until the sound of the butler’s footsteps had faded. “Go to your room and dress. I’ll have to get the maids up to empty the bath before it floods the entire house.”

  Cheeks flushed, gaze lowered, she nodded and hurried out of the bathroom. Alex sighed and adjusted his trousers before stomping out into the hallway to wait for someone to help deal with the overflowing bath. Would he ever get to make love to his wife? Some Christmas this was.

  Chapter 10

  Emma had never had such a tension-filled dinner, and that was saying something considering the early days of their marriage. Yet it was not a dinner filled with nerves or worry. It was anticipation.

  Everything Alexander had said had made her feel sure his feelings towards her had changed and that perhaps he had not been entirely disgusted with her during their first few times together. Theirs had been a marriage borne of misunderstandings.

  If only they had not nearly flooded the bathroom. She could not help but think that if she revealed all and they made love—properly, completely, with no fears—this could be the fresh start they needed and they’d finally understand one another.

  Alexander eyed her over his wine glass with a smile. The dinner was beautiful, having intended to be for all their family, though Hannah had tried to save as much of the food as she could for the next day and save herself some cooking. The goose was far too big for the both of them, as would the turkey be but the cook refused to serve up cold meat for Christmas Day so the goose would be used for sandwiches in the evening.

  The dark glimmer to her husband’s eyes sent a flurry of need, as deep and as thick as the snow into her stomach. Emma felt her cheeks heat. With the lamp
s and candlelight glinting off his hair, he looked like the archangel Gabriel. That was almost certainly a blasphemous thought, but it could not be helped. Her husband was indeed a most handsome man.

  “Cease looking at me like that,” she scolded softly after dessert was brought out.

  “Like what?” he asked innocently, spooning some Dariol pudding into his mouth.

  A tiny fleck of it sat on his bottom lip and he dabbed it away with a napkin. Emma bit back a sigh. She wanted to lick it away and taste his lips again, to relish the almond and cherry flavour on them. The way he kissed her... If she had been a debutante, she would have swooned. As it was, she had been close. He made her knees tremble, her chest ache. He had never kissed her like that before—with so much passion and no inhibition.

  Emma glanced at the footman standing by the table with leftovers on and thought better of mentioning that he looked as though he was undressing her with his eyes.

  “You know very well what.”

  He laughed and threw down his napkin. “You cannot blame me. It has been a long time.”

  More heat surged into her cheeks and she clapped her hands to them. At least she knew he had not taken pleasure elsewhere. He must have been faithful this past year or else he would not be so desperate for her. Besides which, Alexander had never really been able to lie to her. They skirted around so much because neither of them had the ability to tell falsehoods.

  But there was still one falsehood. She needed to tell him—had been about to tell him— about Geoffrey. Then the bath had flooded and she hadn’t had the chance. Now she greatly feared ruining the evening. Perhaps when she got him into her bed later, she would bring it up. Or even while they read and had a cocoa in the drawing room. The truth had to come out, not just because he intended to stay at Balmead more often, but because if they were to have a proper marriage, he had to know all the sordid details of her family and her half-brother. It was only fair.

  They did retreat to the drawing room for drinks, though Alexander had a brandy while she sipped another glass of wine. She didn’t wish to drink too much but she certainly needed the liquid courage. The scent of wood smoke filled the room and the fire cast a beautiful glow. In the corner, the candles on their tree had been lit and all the lamps and other candles were still unlit with the exception of a few on the mantelpiece. The curtains were left drawn back to give them a marvellous view of the white scenery, highlighted by a half moon. It was, in her opinion, the perfect Christmas scene.

  She glanced at the bottom of the tree and saw a few parcels had been left there too. They were crudely wrapped in brown paper and string.

  “Presents?”

  Alexander placed his brandy down and came to stand beside her as she paused in front of the tree. He put his hands to her arms and drew her against the solid strength of his chest. Emma closed her eyes and savoured it. She still wanted a child. But Alexander had already taken away so much of that emptiness that had filled her in their time apart. She had not realised it but she was missing her husband.

  “I brought some of them back from France with me. I hope you like them. I’ll admit I’m not very knowledgeable when it comes to women but some of my friends advised me.”

  “I am sure I will like anything you give me, but I feel terrible. I only have one gift for you.”

  “I don’t need any gifts. I hope you’ll give me all I need this festive season.”

  She turned in his arms and rested her head against his chest. Emma could not quite believe this was the man she had so feared seeing again. He seemed relaxed, happy, content, and she felt the same. So much time wasted... She shook her head.

  “You will not give me anything?” he asked, a brow raised.

  She smiled. “No, not at all. I just cannot believe how much time we wasted apart.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I believe it might have done us some good. Helped us mature a little. You have taken a lot on managing this estate and I learned much on my travels.”

  “That’s very philosophical of you, Alexander, and I suppose you might be right.” She peeked over at the white dog sleeping in Alexander’s chair before letting her gaze linger on her husband’s features. His expressive eyes made her heart stutter. “Christmas is a time for fresh starts and forgiveness, is it not?”

  He nodded and plucked at a curl of her hair to wrap it absently around his finger.

  “Then shall we forgive ourselves and each other and make this a fresh start?”

  “I should like that very much indeed.”

  She stood on tiptoes and swept her lips over his. He kissed her back, firmly, briefly, before drawing back. “Will you not open a gift?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, why not?”

  “Any one in particular?”

  “How about this one?” He bent and plucked up a small flat one.

  Emma settled on the chaise and he came to sit by her as she drew open the string to reveal a small box and inside a heart-shaped locket. “Alexander, it’s beautiful.” She opened it to find their portraits in it, side by side. Tears stung her eyes. She had not realised until now how much she wanted this, how much she wanted them to be husband and wife in every sense of the word.

  “You like it?”

  She heard the uncertainty in his voice and cupped his face so she could press a kiss to his cheek. “I do, it’s wonderful. Will you put it on for me?”

  He took the necklace and fastened it around her neck. “I was not sure if you would,” he admitted quietly. “It seemed a rather bold gift at the time and I had thought of keeping it to myself, but I’m glad I didn’t.”

  “Me too.” She fingered the gold heart and pressed it to her chest. “I shall treasure it.” Feeling emboldened by his gift and his words, and even the risk he had taken buying such a gift when their marriage had been so uncertain, she took his hand. Emma let a smile tease her lips as she took in the sight of her handsome duke. His broad shoulders begged her to sweep her hands over them, that dip in his chin called to her fingers to play over it. She longed to kiss each inch of that jaw and run her fingers through his golden hair. “Will you not come and unwrap your gift?”

  A crease appeared between his brow. “I thought you said I only had one, and I don’t see it here.”

  “It’s not here.” She lowered her voice and prayed she didn’t seem a fool. “It is in my bedroom.”

  Chapter 11

  Alex swallowed as they stood outside her bedroom. This was it. She did mean for him to unwrap her, did she not? Or else he’d look a damned fool and be mightily disappointed when she led him into her room and handed him a present.

  Relief still ran through him that she had liked his gift. He had picked it up in Paris and had the portraits put in it in London. At the time he had thought it might do good to remind her of to whom she was married, but he had tucked it away realising he had bitter motives behind the gift. However, after earlier, he knew he wanted to give it to her for the right reasons. A symbol of their... love? Perhaps. He half suspected if they had not been brought together by their families’ and societies’ expectations he might have fallen in love with her that first night. She had been radiantly beautiful but he had ignored that fact, being too laden down with expectations and duty.

  Emma offered him a secretive smile and opened her bedroom door. With only the fire lit, the room was mostly cast in shadow. He regretted he wouldn’t see her properly but it added a romantic feel to it and if he had learned anything from the men of the Alpine Club, it was that women loved romance. Besides, he could always draw open the curtains in the morning and make love to her then.

  He pressed the door shut with his foot and paused to take in the sight of her. He had been remembering her in her under-things all day, particularly during dinner. Alex had suffered for much of that meal but found himself enjoying her company very much. It seemed they had conquered everything with the exception of the bedroom. They were able to enjoy each other’s company and even talk quite openly
. The marriage bed would be their true test.

  His heart hammered and sweat pricked on the back of his neck. He fought the need to swipe a hand across his brow. Emma’s throat worked and he noted the flicker of apprehension in her gaze. Her bold move must have daunted her too, but she had shown great courage. Courage, he could well admire.

  Inwardly he chided himself. Show him a mountain and he would climb it. Give him a beautiful, willing woman and he turned into a nervous whelp of a man.

  “Come here,” he said huskily.

  Emma stepped forwards and he took her into his arms. Her fingers looped about his neck and her lips immediately found his. Her eagerness made him smile and dampened some of the nerves. He took his time kissing her, learning the taste and feel of her mouth. Running his hands up and down her back, he couldn’t resist rocking into her, though her skirts gave him little relief. He needed to be pressed against that soft body.

  She began to tug at his necktie and he released her body to help. The room was remarkably hot and he wanted to feel her fingers on him. Once he had flung that aside, he slipped off his jacket, all the while kissing her with clumsy, desperate kisses. Next came his waistcoat and then she started to work on his shirt. If he had any doubts about her lack of experience with men, they were now erased. Her fingers were awkward and she struggled to undo the small buttons. There was no chance she was practiced at this.

  Spreading apart his shirt, she laid her hands on his chest and he hissed. Her eyes widened and she went to draw them away but he captured her hands with his own. “Don’t,” he begged. He needed her touch so badly.