Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

She used her hands to smooth across his chest and down his stomach, tracing him with fascination. Desire and gratitude mingled in his gut. She had no lover. She only had him. He would be her lover. Properly, truly. Nothing could hold them back now.

  Except that she was frittering away his money. But he would deal with that later. A few misspent pennies were hardly on par with having a secret lover.

  He drew out his shirt from his trousers and undid his cufflinks before she helped him remove his shirt. Her parted lips and shining eyes were almost the undoing of him. Emma looked at him as though he was the only man in the world. It humbled him.

  Wrapping her in his arms, he drew her close and her lips tickled a trail across his chest. Her floral fragrance surrounded him and he drew it in. How had he gone so long without her?

  “You taste salty,” she murmured. “I like it.”

  He groaned. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? In that gown, probably not. He needed to get it off her as fast as possible so she could know.

  Thrusting her back, he turned her, making her squeal. Before, he might have worried he’d frightened her or he had done something wrong, but the molten lust in his veins dampened any doubts and when he pressed his mouth to the back of her neck and felt an almost imperceptible shudder and heard her gasps, he knew nothing could be wrong between them.

  Alex set to work on her complex gown, his mouth pressing against the top of her neck. He let his lips linger there while he finished undoing her dress. Leaving it on her hips, he began to unlace her corset, feeling more confident now he had dealt with this contraption several times.

  With that loose, he pushed down her undergarments to reveal one soft shoulder. Her skin was cast in golden perfection with the light of the fire dancing over it. He kissed a path along it to her neck, revelling in the way she tilted her head to give him better access.

  Emma began to wriggle impatiently, and he realised she was trying to free herself from her gown. Apparently, he was not the only impatient one. He helped her remove it and heard her relieved, “Oh yes,” that made him smile.

  Her bottom pressed against her drawers, the firm outline visible against the cotton. He smoothed both palms down them and cupped her rear, drawing a startled gasp from her. He could become quite obsessed with that beautiful rear, he decided, taking the time to squeeze lightly. Then he shifted his hands around to her hips to press her against him.

  She moaned. His quiet, innocent wife moaned at the feeling of his cock pressed against her bottom. Lord almighty, what had he been thinking running away when he could have been enjoying this?

  He ran his hands up her body to cup her breasts and chuckled when he found her hands tugging at her corset. He took pity on her and helped her draw it off. Now only a thin layer of cotton sat between him and his prize.

  That warm, supple body pressed into him as he explored every part of her with his fingers. He found she liked her nipples gently plucked and teased, and when he dipped his hands lower and slipped them under her drawers, she rocked into his erection.

  Alex found her hot and wet for him. He didn’t remember her being like this at all on their first night together or even the nights after. She had been stiff and quiet. Now she was moaning and gasping and rolling her hips. He let his finger skim between her folds several times, finding a spot that made her shudder and loll her head back against him.

  Then he tried rubbing in circles while kissing her neck and she jerked against him and ground into his finger. “Oh, Alexander, that feels so good...”

  Well, at least he knew he was doing it right. He continued, savouring each breathy cry, changing the motion with each of her reactions until it seemed everything he did created pleasure. She brought her hands up to clutch his upper arms and dug her nails into him but she would have to tear him to pieces before he stopped. He was determined. She was the mountain and he would conquer her.

  It happened suddenly. Her whole body went stiff against his and then gave way. A great cracking sound thundered through the room while she trembled and released a long breath. Before Alex had a chance to register what the noise was, a great deluge of snow and plaster swamped the bedroom. Emma screamed as he dragged her back and twisted to cover her body. They slammed to the floor and he turned his head to view the damage. Dust and snow swirled in the air and a cold breeze blew through the room.

  Emma lifted her head, looking dazed. “What...?”

  Alex pressed away from her and drew her to her feet. “Bloody hell, the roof just collapsed.”

  She peered around him, clutched his arm and surveyed the mess. It had missed her bed and hadn’t even reached near where they had been standing but it was a good amount of roof that had come down. He stepped forwards, forcing Emma to release his arm, and peered at the whole in the ceiling.

  “There must have been snow in the attic. There’s a hole in the roof, I suspect. The weight was too much.”

  “Alexander, be careful.”

  Snow and fragments of ceiling caked her dressing table and the carpet. He shoved the larger pieces aside to have another look. The hole itself was not huge but would take a bit of work to fix.

  “Damnation.” He turned and eyed her barely clothed state. Picking up her robe and shaking it off, he chucked it to her. The servants would no doubt be along after hearing that racket and he would not have them seeing her half-dressed.

  Frustration burned through him. Would he ever get to bed his wife? It was beginning to look very unlikely.

  “You really should have budgeted for the roof,” he said gruffly as he stepped out of the room and drew her away, aware they could do nothing until the morning.

  She clutched her robe about her and scowled at him. “I tried my best. I didn’t know there was a hole in the roof.”

  “Which is why you send someone up there to maintain it. This never would have happened if you had not been wasting money. I can’t fathom what you could possibly be spending so much money on but if it is fine gowns and... and bonnets or something, I shall tell you now, I won’t allow it any longer.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She took a few steps back from him. That dash of fear that so often haunted her expression was back and if he had been less frustrated, he might have managed to school his emotions, but he couldn’t. Damn it, all he wanted was a night with his wife of nearly one year. Was that so much to ask?

  “It has not been easy with you gone. You don’t know what I have had to deal with, what obligations—”

  “You are obligated to ensure my estate is run well. As a duchess, no less is expected from you. Instead, I return to find half my money frittered away, my castle crumbling and most of my staff gone.” He pushed a hand through his hair.

  Her bottom lip trembled and he waited for her to retreat, but instead she straightened her shoulders. “Had you not left and had you helped me understand the running of your estate better, I might have been better able to fulfil my role. But I had other obligations too.”

  “A lover perhaps?” he sneered. Even as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The idea of a lover had been born of his own inadequacy. Since yesterday, he hadn’t for one moment truly believed that. But still, he needed the reassurance.

  “No, how dare you? I don’t know what you have been doing this past year, but I would never dream of such a thing.” Her breasts heaved against her robe and he saw two dark spots of colour on her cheeks. Emma glanced at the remnants of her room as a sudden gust sent a whirl of wind and snow around them both. “I will not stand here and be insulted. I shall sleep in the blue room. Good night, Your Grace.”

  Alex cursed under his breath but didn’t beg her to return. He watched her stalk off to the guest bedroom and forced himself to uncurl his fists. What a fine mess he’d made of everything. Had he ruined any chance of happiness between them or was there still a possibility he could make up for his foolish words? He waited at the top of the stairs for the servants to ascend when he heard a flurry of activity down below. No doubt the
sound had awoken them.

  He would have to do something for her, he realised. Something to prove how much he cared for her. Maybe even loved her. He had been selfish in his actions, while she had been utterly selfless, remaining here and running things for him. Why, she could have gone to London or stayed with her mother, but instead she chose to stay in the wilds of Scotland and try to learn how to manage an estate. Was it her fault her husband was so childish he would not even brave being honest with her?

  It was not. And so he had quite the task ahead of him to prove to her he wasn’t that selfish man anymore. He only hoped he was not too late.

  Chapter 12

  It took Emma at least an hour of lying in the dark in the blue room to control her breathing and rid herself of the angry fire burning in her belly. When it had left her, it also left her cold. The fire hadn’t been lit in the guest room—another money-saving scheme. She braved slipping out of the cold covers to retrieve a blanket from the coffer at the end of the four-poster bed and draped it over herself. Still, she shuddered.

  Why had she lost her temper with him? Why had she not tried to explain? She had intended to before they slipped into bed, but it never quite seemed the right moment. Alexander stole all reasonable thought from her with his touches and kisses. Would he understand or would he be angry with her still? She was a fool but what was she to do? Abandon Geoffrey to the world? He had nothing and no one. Should children suffer for the sins of their parents?

  She did not believe so for one moment, but how was she to continue supporting him? Now she was under Alexander’s watch, she could not, and she refused to lie to him any longer. But what would Geoffrey do? Well-paid work was not easily come by for a man with no education, though she knew her brother had tried hard to better himself. She wished her father had not been so selfish and such a coward. He should have claimed Geoffrey and helped him. It seemed so unfair Geoffrey should be struggling while she lived in relative luxury.

  In the morning, she would tell Alexander all. Let him be angry with her, if he would. Emma tossed onto her side and fought the cold dread in her stomach while bunching the blankets up around her neck. Perhaps he would decide to leave her again and take out his annoyance on the mountains once more. After all, a man like Alexander was not designed to sit around and play lord. He had trusted her to look after his responsibilities and she had failed. That failure sat like a bitter lump of coal in her stomach.

  She’d failed him and she’d failed to create a good marriage. Would she ever get anything right? Tears burned her eyes and she swiped them away before burying her head under the blankets and letting the stuffy warmth envelop her. Perhaps she wouldn’t. It looked as though her lack of courage had even destroyed any chance at a good marriage. Oh, how she loathed herself.

  Emma forced herself out of bed at her usual early hour. Regardless of what had happened the previous night, it was still Christmas Day and she would not let all the cook’s preparations go to waste. Not to mention they needed to at least tidy her bedroom and try to cover the hole in the roof. The hope that she might be returning to Alexander’s room soon had burned bright—she never did enjoy sleeping alone—but that looked to be ruined now, so she needed to move some of her belongings into the guest room.

  She rang for a maid and was grateful to be brought a cup of tea. She sipped the warm liquid and felt it flow through her and revive her. Tea was indeed the cure for much, she thought. Why men insisted on turning to strong spirits when a cup of tea did a much better job, she would never understand.

  The maid chattered away, talking about the large meal Hannah had prepared for the servants and how she was looking forward to it. Once she and Alexander’s meal had been served, several of the staff intended to trek through the snow to visit relatives in the village. The maid’s excitement made Emma smile in spite of herself. How lucky the girl was to have a family who was desperate to see her. Emma’s own mother was more interested in social pursuits and Alexander’s family had intended to come more out of obligation than a desire to see their son and daughter-in-law.

  She had meant to ask the maid about the state of her bedroom, but by the time the maid had finished curling Emma’s hair and placed some festive green and red ribbons in it, she had forgotten that intention, such was her inability to get a word in edgeways.

  Dressed in an elegant pale green gown, Emma admired her reflection in the mirror. She smoothed out the ruffles that enhanced the low neckline and skimmed her shoulders. It was a rather grand gown for the daytime but it was Christmas after all, and she wanted to look her best for Alexander. Perhaps if she looked beautiful, he wouldn’t be so angry with her for giving away his money, though would he accuse her of frittering away his money again?

  Emma had never been one to use her looks—she hardly knew how—but Alexander seemed to be very attracted to her. If he wanted her anything like she wanted him, maybe there would be a chance she could persuade him she was worth staying for. She chewed her bottom lip and prayed for courage while her heart hammered against her bodice.

  Once the maid had left, she retrieved the shawl the maid had brought with her and draped it about her shoulders in an attempt to ward off the chill. Emma didn’t slow her pace as she walked past the closed doors of their bedrooms. She hoped he was up. To sit around and wait to apologise was more than she could bear. Tension already coiled tight in her belly.

  When she entered the dining room, her heart sank. Only one place remained set, meaning Alexander had already taken his breakfast.

  “Mr Hampton,” she called when she had settled at the table and saw the butler slip past the room.

  He paused and stood in the doorway. “Your Grace?”

  “Have you seen His Grace this morning?”

  “No, Your Grace.”

  Emma scowled. Where was he? Had he gone out? Perhaps he had decided to take a walk. Perhaps he was still angry with her. She glanced at the window and saw the snow was still as thick as ever but at least there was no fresh snowfall. When she looked to the doorway, the butler had gone, leaving her alone save from the footman standing stoically in the corner.

  She tried to eat but her appetite was gone. He was going to leave her again, was he not? With a sigh, she took her cup of tea into the drawing room. She had spent far too many days eating breakfast alone and she would do so no longer. How much more pleasant would it be to sit by a warm fire at least.

  Snowy jumped off what had become her chair and scrabbled up her legs. Emma gave her a half-hearted pat and allowe the dog to clamber onto her lap. A heavy weight sat in Emma’s chest when she spied the poorly wrapped presents under the tree. A sad smile curved her lips and she sat to drink her tea while fingering the gold locket Alexander had given her.

  Oh, his gift. It was still in her room—likely buried under dust and snow. Still, she should see if she could find it. It wasn’t much—some monogrammed handkerchiefs—but she had thought she ought to get him something when he sent word of his intention to return. She hardly knew him at the time so he had not been easy to buy for.

  Did she really know him any better now? Yes, she thought so. In spite of them only having spent a few days together, they were building upon their brief courtship and their first difficult month together. When they had courted, he had been kind and courteous, if a little stiff. And their first month he had been awkward and a little foul tempered. These were all facets to him. Individually, some of those traits had intimidated her, but when combined with his sensual, romantic side, she found she could quite tolerate them. After all, who could claim to be perfect? Not her, for certain. Lying to him about her brother had been her biggest mistake.

  Placing down the tea, she coaxed Snowy off her lap and scowled when a thud came from upstairs. Where was everyone? With the exception of the footman in the corner and Mr Hampton striding by, the house was terribly quiet. Surely a small dinner for the two of them didn’t take that much work.

  There it was again. She froze and tilted her head to listen.
Another thud. What was going on up there? She faced Mr Jacoby. “Have you seen His Grace this morning?”

  “No, Your Grace,” the footman replied stiffly as he stepped forwards to take her cup of tea and place it on a tray.

  “Will you go into the kitchen and see if anyone has seen him please?”

  He nodded, disconcertion coming across his face. Did he know where Alexander was? She waited until the footman had left and paused to listen to the scuffle. Perhaps the staff had decided to start clearing up her room without her. She would offer some help and see if she could not find the duke’s present.

  By the time she had ascended the stairs, she knew for certain that the thuds and scuffles were coming from her room. Her heart warmed a little, taking away some of the ice that Alexander’s disappearance had left in her chest. The staff at Balmead—at least those who remained—were indeed a kindly bunch and she was extremely grateful for them. She supposed at least when Alexander went travelling again she would still have them. What a shame she had never achieved her goal of getting with child.

  Emma pressed open the door and what she saw had her mouth dropping open. Gone was the snow and rubble and her bedroom had been restored to its former neatness. The bedding had been stripped and replaced with clean, pressed linens, and her few bottles of perfume and creams had been righted and placed neatly on her dressing table.

  And in the centre of it all was Alexander, standing on a ladder, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his hair almost white with plaster dust. The thud turned out to be him hammering a thin sheet of wood across the ceiling.

  “Alexander...”

  He paused and lowered the hammer to smile sheepishly at her. “I’ve boarded it over from the attic. It shouldn’t collapse again and one of the stable hands helped me seal up the roof. We’ll need to get someone up there when the snow thaws but there should be no more accidents.”

  “You must have been up for hours.”

  She stepped into the room and swept a finger across the mantelpiece to find it clean and dust free. Tears made her vision blurry. No one had ever done anything like this for her. No one had tried to take care of her problems. The estate had been left for her to deal with, she had been left in this crumbling castle to maintain it. Even in her childhood she had been forced to make her own decisions. Her mother wanted little to do with the silly little girl she had borne and her governesses were not much better.