Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  “Nothing, I was savoring the brandy was all,” Christian lied, not wishing to discuss his musings. Natalie had occupied far too much of his time already.

  “It is high quality.” Kissinger emptied his glass in one quick drink. “Almost as good as my own private stash.”

  “You act surprised, as though you are at a village tavern rather than a duke’s estate.” Greenwich sat his empty glass on the sideboard. “Speaking of your location, we had better join the others in the drawing room. The dinner bell will be sounding shortly.

  They turned down the corridor that led to the drawing room, Natalie and Lady Daphne stood conversing in the middle of it with another lady. Christians pulse sped with irritation. Was there no escaping her? He’d had all he could tolerate of her company earlier and had hoped to get the meal over with and retire with his friends.

  “Bradford, do come say hello to Lady Gertrude,” Natalie called out.

  Christian followed as Greenwich approached the trio of ladies, his head suddenly pounding. Introductions were made, the lady being another cousin. At least her voice did not grade on him as Natalie’s did. It appeared that most of the family had arrived early. The last thing Christian wished to do was spend his time acting proper and chatting with young marriage-minded misses. Why had he agreed to attend this affair? He swallowed past the knot in his throat. He’d agreed because he had no other place to go—with no family to speak of. Christian wanted nothing less than to spend another holiday in a gaming hell or at his gentleman’s club.

  “Do be gentlemen and escort us into the drawing room.” Natalie smiled, taking Christian’s arm.

  His friends proffered their arms to the remaining ladies before they all proceeded down the hallway.

  Natalie slowed her steps causing them to fall behind the others. “I have decided on your forfeit,” she whispered.

  He glanced down at the folded stationary she held in her free hand. What game did she play at now?

  “Take it and do be sure no one else sees its contents.” She shoved the note into his coat pocket before increasing the pace of her steps once more.

  He drew to a stop outside of the drawing room door, allowing the others to enter before he removed Natalie’s hand from his sleeve. “If you will excuse me.” He stepped into the room without allowing her time to speak and moved into a secluded corner, before pulling her note from his pocket.

  Meet me in the greenhouse after supper. Come alone.

  ~Nat

  Whatever could she be about? He shoved the stationary back into his jacket. Dare he honor her most improper request? The way his stomach soured warned him not to—still, he was most curious to discover why she summoned him in such a way. He glanced around the room in hopes that no one had seen him before moving to the table.

  Chapter 5

  Natalie paced between a potted hibiscus and her mother’s beloved orchids, waiting for Christian to show himself. Surely he would come as she’d bid him to. She flipped open her fan and waved it in an effort to cool her nerves. What if he did not, or worse, brought a chaperone? She should have embellished and claimed to have one along. But then, it was not as though the two of them had never been alone. As children, they often found themselves in such a state.

  Oh, but they weren’t children anymore. Society would never stand for them being unaccompanied. He was not the type of man to be fooled into a scandal. She tapped her fan against her thigh. Why had she not thought of propriety before penning her note? Not that she would have arranged for a chaperone, but she most certainly would have claimed to have seen to it.

  She reached the orchids once again and turned back toward the hibiscus, her eyes now trained on the greenhouse entrance. The warm air added to her unease as she watched and waited. She would allow another five minutes. If he failed to arrive, she would seek him out. No way would she allow him to get away with leaving her out here alone. Not when he knew she was waiting for him.

  The cinnamon scent of mother’s favorite orchid tickled her nose as she rounded the pots once more and stopped to inhale it more deeply. They were such exotic, refined blooms, though she would never understand her mother’s obsession with them. She had gone as far as employing expert gardeners with the sole purpose of tending her orchids. On more than one occasion, Mother had even instructed Natalie to be graceful and strong like the flowers.

  Natalie feathered her fingers over one thick stem, then without thought, broke it off and stuck the flower in her hair. Mother would be vexed to discover what she’d done, which made Natalie exceedingly please. She jumped at the creak of the door opening and ducked behind a nearby fern as though she’d been caught with her hands in the Christmastide desserts.

  Glancing from behind the fern, her stomach dropped. “Bradford,”—She came out into the open—“What are you doing here?”

  “Knightly asked me to come in first.”

  She released a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. Christian was here. “You cannot stay.”

  “I must. It would be highly improper to leave you unchaperoned with a man we are not related to.” Bradford smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  Natalie stepped up to him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and began pushing him toward the door. “Nothing untoward will happen as long as you leave now.”

  Oh, why had she failed to think of a chaperone? Now Bradford had his nose squarely in the center of her scheme and he’d surely ruin everything.

  A mischievous twinkle lit his eyes and he chuckled. “Nothing untoward will occur at any rate. Knightly has no wish to ruin you.”

  Natalie’s face warmed and she gave another shove. “Mind your own affairs.”

  “Perhaps I should tell Mother what you are about.”

  “You would not dare! You cannot. Imagine what she would do, Bradford.” Natalie dropped her hands from his shoulders and gave him her best pouty look. “What do you think I am about? You act as though I am some sully maid,” She peered at him, her blood heated with angry indignation. How dare he think she was going about, carrying on trysting with men? No matter it was exactly her intended purpose…he should not assume such from her.

  “Do calm yourself. Getting your skirts in a knot will change nothing.” Bradford shook his head. “We both know what you are doing here.”

  She closed her eyes for a heartbeat. He was correct, she could no more lie to him than she could herself. “I beg of you, do not say a word to anyone.”

  “You are quite entertaining.” He chuckled while he walked toward the door. “I will be directly outside should Knightly require my assistance.”

  “You may well be the one in need.” Natalie reached for a nearby pot and flung it toward him. The projectile missed him, crashing into the floor. “You are not entertaining in the least.”

  “You had better clean that mess up or Mother is certain to discover what you’ve been getting up to without my having to tell her.” His deep chuckle only increased in volume as he disappeared from the greenhouse.

  She ought to have known he was teasing her. He no more wished for their parents to know his friend was secretly meeting her than she did. In retrospect, bringing Bradford along was a good plan on Christian’s part. As much as it pained her to admit it, he would ensure no one caught them alone together. Natalie released a sigh, then smoothed her skirts before Christian entered. Her heart pounded—this was her chance.

  She stood still with one hip cocked to the left as he stepped into the greenhouse and approached her. “Lord Knightly, I am pleased you came.”

  “You should be equally pleased that your brother was the only one to notice your note. Are you trying to get ruined?”

  She swallowed at the harshness of his tone. “On the contrary, that is why I told you not to show it to anyone. Though I must confess, I am pleased Bradford came along. He will make an excellent look out.” She did her best to offer a charming smile despite her sudden nerves.

  “And why would we need someone to watch out for u
s?” Christian leveled his penetrating stare on her.

  She reached out a trembling hand and trailed the tips of her fingers across his strong jaw. Even through her gloves she felt his warmth seeping into her—imprinting on her soul. “I want a kiss. One more passionate than the one you bestowed on Lady Pippa.”

  He took her wrist in his hand, pulling her fingers away. “Lady Pippa?”

  “Do not attempt to dissuade me with denial. I witnessed your tryst with my own eyes.” Natalie waved her finger at him.

  Christian arched one dark brow. “I must confess, I am fascinated. Do go on.”

  “You well know what happened.” Natalie placed her hands on her hips. Her blood warmed with frustration.

  “Indeed, I do, and there was no kissing.” Christian rubbed the back of his neck as he retreated a step. “Nor will there be any—”

  “There most certainly was!” She would not allow him to pretend otherwise. “I came in search of you for set…the one you signed my dance card to reserve…imagine my surprise when I found you escorting Lady, and I use the term loosely, Pippa out onto the veranda.”

  Tears moistened her eyes but she refused to shed them. “I followed the two of you. By the time I located you, in an exceedingly dark corner, I might add, you had her wrapped in your arms.” She glared at him, challenging him to deny his actions further.

  “She was ill. I followed her out to ensure she was all right.”

  Natalie leaned closer, pursing her lips. How dare he continue to lie?

  He released an exasperated sigh. “It was not a tryst.”

  She tilted her head, examining him. Could he be telling the truth? Images from that night assaulted her memory, the details as crisp in her mind as they were all those weeks ago. Pippa had been pressed against Christian, her head tipped back, lips parted. Natalie knew what had happened, she’d witnessed their secret moments. Her eyes had not deceived her nor had her imagination tricked her. “Admit it. You are only in attendance because you hope to see Lady Pippa once more—pick up where you left off.”

  “You know not what you speak of.” He challenged her with his narrow gaze.

  She glanced away and inhaled a steadying breath. She’d go mad if she continued on this course. There was no going back—nothing could be undone—unseen. The past would remain as it was regardless of what she wished for or he claimed. “Call it what you will.” She closed the distance between them, pressing her body against his—relishing the heat that radiated between them.

  He pulled back slightly as she tipped her head, meeting his gaze. “I would have my kiss now.”

  “I do not find myself agreeable at this time.” He retreated toward the door. “Good evening, Lady Natalie.”

  Her stomach sank and she raced after him, grabbing hold of his coat sleeve. “You lost our game. As a result, you owe me a forfeit of my choosing. You cannot simply refuse.”

  Why would he wish to deny her request in the first place? Gentleman kissed ladies in private all the time. He had no issue with bestowing his kiss on Lady Pippa. Could he still be cross with her over saving him from that runaway carriage so long ago? Had his ego truly been so bruised that he still desires to even the score? If so, he would find himself sorely disappointed because she had no intention of allowing him to win this standoff.

  She pressed a hand to her belly. Was he so in love with Pippa that he found no interest in her? A knot formed in her throat and she swallowed passed it. If he loved another—could her kiss prove she was the better choice? Even if she did convince him, how would she sway her parents? She’d not go mad worrying over such musings right now—there would be time enough for that later. Right now, her focus had to remain on gaining his kiss.

  He met her gaze, his jaw clenched. “I will make good on my debt at a time and place of my choosing. This, my lady, is neither.”

  Before she had time to recover her wit, he stalked out of the greenhouse, allowing the door to slam in his wake. She opened the door and stared after his retreating form, her jaw slack with indignation. A time and place of his choosing!

  How dare he?

  This was far from over. She would achieve her goal—and she would do the choosing of place and time, as well.

  Chapter 6

  Christian tossed his cards down on the table. This was the third hand in a row where he did not have a single card to play—nothing. Should the trend continue, he’d be returning to London a pauper. His depleted funds would be all Natalie’s fault, too. He could scarcely try to focus, let alone achieve the state, since her little stunt in the greenhouse.

  He pressed his lip together in a tight line.

  How dare she?

  The absurdity of cornering him, demanding a passionate kiss, accusing him of trysting with Lady Pippa… Had she lost her mind?

  “Folding again, Knightly? How am I to raise the stakes against you if you cannot play out your hands?” The Duke of Kissinger lifted his tumbler of brandy and took a drink.

  Christian rubbed his hand over his jaw. “You have already won a small fortune from me this evening.”

  Greenwich tapped his fingers on the surface of the card table. “Rotten luck indeed. Perhaps you need to drink faster.” He chuckled before draining his own cup and beckoning a servant for a refill.

  Christian gave a grin, leaned back in his chair, and sipped his brandy while his friends played out their hands. Drinking faster would no more improve his odds than granting Natalie her desired kiss would bring him peace.

  Her words spun through his mind. Trysting with Pippa…demanding a passionate kiss of her own…the fire in her eyes as she challenged him. Why could he not wash Natalie from his mind? Did he wish to kiss her? He bet her lips were silky soft and her mouth sweet. He shook his head, then took a large swallow of brandy, savoring the burn as the liquor blazed a trail into his belly.

  He could not be attracted to Natalie. She was far to spoiled and entitled. Her mere presence aggravated him. Besides, the hoyden was his best friend’s sister. Hell, she might as well be his for all the time they spent together over the years. Natalie needed a husband—not a lover. He would never be a husband, leastwise not a good one.

  “Are you in?” Greenwich asked, shuffling the deck of cards.

  Christian nodded. Perhaps, he could focus long enough to win a hand, earn back some of his lost coin.

  Kissinger drummed his fingers on the table. “Deal already, Greenwich, before I am forced to accuse you of fleecing us.”

  “With skills as refined as mine, cheating is not necessary.” Greenwich chuckled as he began dealing the cards.

  “Careful, old friend. An overabundance of confidence has been the downfall of many a man.” Kissinger gave a slight nod before returning to his drink.

  Greenwich smirked. “Pray, let none of us meet such a dreadful state.”

  Kissinger contemplated Christian for a moment. “Perhaps that is your issue. You were rather full of yourself last week at White’s.”

  “Bloody hell, Kissinger, mind your own cards.” Christian scooped his newly dealt hand from the table and fanned them out before him. He considered them, two low spades, the king of hearts, four of diamonds, and queen of clubs. Someone might as well club him over the head—put him out of his misery. He tossed the cards down. “I’m out.”

  “We have barely begun.” Greenwich protested. “Bets have not yet been placed. You cannot fold.”

  “I need not continue in order to know how the game will play out for me.” Christian stood, then tossed a coin into the center of the table. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

  He exited the room with his hands clenched in his pockets, intent on seeking comfort in the smoking room. His muffled boot steps on the hallway carpet kept pace with his heartbeat as he made his way down the maze of corridors leading to his desired destination. What a rotten party this was shaping up to be.

  Distant echoes of merriment, laughter, and conversation, as well as whimsical pianoforte notes, drifted toward him as he turn
ed down another hallway. Most of the guests had arrived, the house had become overrun as a result. Perhaps he would be best served by retiring to his room for the evening. Better yet, taking his chances in the storm as the grey gloom and heavy winds would suite his mood. Lord knew he was not fit company for anyone at present.

  The familiar melody of a favored childhood Christmastide carol began to play. As a child he had spent many a Christmastide singing Deck The Halls with Mother. Christian failed to notice he had followed the sounds until he found himself standing outside of the music room door. He peeked inside, his body more relaxed than it had been all day.

  Blazes, his pulse increased. Natalie sat at the pianoforte, her pale, blond hair piled loosely on top of her head and eyes sparkling as she played. Witnessing her like this—not causing mischief, doing something so feminine—made it hard to equate her with the heathen he was familiar with. He leaned against the door frame, studying her.

  A shiver of pleasure trickled through him. She very much put him in mind of his dearly missed mother. Blessed with both beauty and grace, Natalie was the kind of woman a man should be proud to call wife. But he knew better, she was no proper English rose.

  Turning his attention to the other occupants of the room, he noted Lady Daphne stood to Natalie’s left singing along with her cousin. The Duchess of Sheriden sat near the fire on a wing back chair, an unfamiliar lady beside her. The Duke of Sheridan also kept company with someone Christian did not recognize. Some lord or another man of importance judging by the man’s appearance. They stood near the mahogany sideboard sipping drinks and chatting. Several others occupied the room as well, but none who interested him as much as the strangers did.

  Who could they be? Had Natalie’s betrothed finally arrived? A pang of regret struck his heart.

  Why had he not asked more questions about the gossip? He wished he had taken the time to discover who Natalie’s intended was. Maybe he could have learned something about the man. What if he was the unsavory type? As a gentleman, he would be forced to take the news to her parents. Then what? Marry her himself?