Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  His gaze roamed back to her. He studied the bow of her lips, darting his tongue out to wet his own. Perhaps one kiss would not be a miss. He did owe her a forfeit. An honorable man would not comply. But a dishonorable one would pay his debt, debauch the lady, and move on.

  Christian had never been accused of being an honorable man. Not that anyone had ever called him dishonorable—they had not. Despite his rakehell ways, his reputation had not been overly tarnished. He simply lived by his own rules and code of conduct, mostly in line with society. Perhaps giving her one kiss was exactly what he should do. Follow his rules, his choice of conduct, so what if his wishes aligned with Natalie’s desires. They would both win.

  He sighed and started to turn from the room. Natalie’s gaze collided with his, freezing him in place. Bloody hell. Move. His heart skipped a beat when she gave a slight nod. Her stare held his as she played the final notes before breaking their connection and offering the guests a charming smile.

  A smart man would take this opportunity to disappear. Perhaps he was not a smart man for he stood, waiting. Wanting to speak with Natalie, wishing to grant her the kiss she desired.

  She stood from the pianoforte, glanced at her parents, then sauntered toward the door. Try as he might, he could not pull his attention from the sway of her hips—could not force himself to flee.

  He managed a step backward as she came into the hallway.

  “I had hoped to see you again this evening, my lord.” She offered a sultry smile. “Have you reconsidered my invitation? If so, I will give you a place and time of my choosing.”

  Invitation, his foot. She’d demanded, and now attempted to control the game again. He would not stand for it. “As I told you previously, I will do the choosing, my lady.”

  He was determined to play by his rules.

  Her eyes narrowed. “It is not me who owes the forfeit.”

  “Ah, but it is you who desires to have my lips pressed to yours.” He gave a rakish grin. “Perhaps we can come to terms on the morrow.” Christian winked, then walked away, leaving her staring after him, her mouth agape.

  Every nerve ending demanded he turn back, to go to her. Accept whatever terms she set forth. Instead, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Step after step, until he reached the safety of his room.

  Chapter 7

  Natalie dropped the ivory spillikins onto the table between her and Daphne. They had been playing most of the morning while Mother saw to the family’s guests and her father stormed around the house wondering where Lord Maddox was. Why he had not yet arrived for the Christmastide party?

  The game provided a much needed escape from everyone. Not to mention, the imminent meeting between she and her soon-to-be betrothed.

  “It is your move.” She glanced up at Daphne.

  Daphne hooked one of the pieces and lifted it from the pile. “Where did you disappear to after the evening meal last night?”

  Natalie’s hook slipped from her fingers, clanking against the hard surface of the table. “I did not disappear.” She retrieved the hook and made a show of studying the game pieces.

  “I had thought to see you in the parlor with the other ladies. When you were not there I assumed you snuck off.” Daphne rubbed her finger over the rounded edge of the last spillikin she had retrieved. The tone in her cousin’s voice told Natalie that she was likely more upset she hadn’t the opportunity to forgo another dull evening trapped in a room with women old enough to be their grandmother.

  “Well, you assumed wrong.” Natalie hooked a game piece and attempted to still her hand enough to remove it without disturbing the others. “Drat,” she exclaimed as she dropped her intended figure back onto the pile.

  She’d been distracted ever since spotting Christian outside of the music room—before that, her lack of focus began when he arrived at Harrington Gardens. In conjunction, Daphne’s question had caught her unprepared. Perhaps she should confide in her. With Pippa gone, she could use a new friend. Daphne had always been a sweet girl. Could she trust her? It would not do for anyone else to discover her untoward endeavors. As it was, she could not guarantee Bradford would keep his silence on the matter.

  Where was Bradford anyway? She glanced toward the hallway, hoping he would reappear. “What do you suppose we should play when my brother and his friends decide to grace us with their company?” They should be arriving to pay Bradford’s forfeit soon and she had yet to determine what activity would serve best for her purposes.

  “Why not allow them to choose?” Daphne plucked another ivory piece from the table with ease. “After all, they did not have to agree to spend time with us.”

  “Oh, yes, they did. Leastwise, Bradford did. Do not forget he owed me a forfeit from Doctors.” Natalie successfully captured a game piece.

  “All the same, the duke and Lord Knightly graciously agreed. It would harm nothing to let them choose the afternoon game.” Daphne sighed, turning her attention toward the window. “I am certain they must be dreadfully bored trapped within the house because of the storm. No doubt they’d rather be outside enjoying the things men do, hunting, riding, visiting the village tavern…”

  “Spillikins has grown tedious.” More accurately, conversing with Daphne had.

  Natalie stood and stalked to the drawing room window to peer out at the storm. Her cousin was daft, suggesting they give the men a choice. Even if Natalie did not have ulterior motives, and in this case she was not certain she did, it would be foolish to give Bradford control.

  “Very well. We have been playing for hours and my back is stiff from sitting.” Daphne rose, coming to stand near Natalie. “Perhaps we should take a turn around the room or down the hall while we wait for the gentlemen?”

  “You are welcome to do as you please. I would prefer to watch the storm.” Natalie waved a hand in dismissal.

  She watched the rain slanting against the window in large drops and the trees near the garden bowing in the wind. She had always found comfort in storms, though she did not understand why. Perhaps it had to do with their wild nature so much like her own. But unlike the raging wind and wild rain, she was trapped in her parent’s gilded cage. All the while a storm raged within her—begging to be set free.

  “Are you quite all right?” Daphne rested a hand on Natalie’s shoulder. “You seem…not quite yourself of late.”

  Natalie released a frustrated sigh, leveling her gaze on her cousin. A pang of regret tugged at her when she noted the concern in Daphne’s brown eyes. She only wished to comfort and help. Natalie should try not to be so hard on her. Still, she had no wish to discuss the secret longings of her heart, nor her former best friend’s betrayal with anyone. She certainly did not want to chat about her impending betrothal. If those were the only topics for conversation to be had during the Christmastide celebration, it would be best if Natalie sought out her room and slept until the New Year dawned. Certainly a new year would rejuvenate her—give her hope and direction.

  She lifted Daphne’s hand from her shoulder. “I am quite alright, I assure you.”

  “Please know I am here should—”

  “Have you ever spied such lovely, ladies?” The Duke of Kissinger strolled into the room with Bradford by his side.

  Daphne dropped into a curtsy. “Good afternoon, Your Grace, Lord Greenwich.”

  Natalie followed suit, her eyes trained on the door. Where was Christian? Her already foul mood soured further as she straightened her posture. Did he seek to avoid her? She forced a weak smile despite her upset. “Shall we wait for Lord Knightly?”

  Bradford strolled further into the room, coming to stand before the hearth. “I fear he has bowed out of the afternoon’s activities.”

  “To much strong drink last night,” the duke added.

  Daphne inhaled sharply, her cheeks tinting pink.

  “I can imagine,” Natalie said, through clenched teeth. The rogue had to be avoiding her, but what did he hope to achieve by doing so? It did not signify
as she would not let him get away with it. “Your forfeit is forgiven. I no longer wish to play a game.”

  Bradford gave a knowing smirk. “All the same, I will stay.”

  Natalie glared at him. “Do as you please but you will have to excuse me. I have correspondences to answer.” She started toward the door.

  “Natalie, I would like a word with you…in private.”

  She halted and glanced at the duke and Daphne before turning back to Bradford. “I am quite certain this is not the proper time.”

  His Grace stepped closer to Daphne. “Do not concern yourself with us, Lady Natalie.” He proffered his arm to Daphne. “Would you be so kind as to join me for a walk in the greenhouse?”

  Daphne’s eyes rounded. “I…but…it would be most improper.”

  Bradford signaled a nearby servant. “Do attend Lady Daphne on her walk.”

  “This is most uncalled for. I told you I do not wish to talk. I have important things to do.” She looked from Bradford to Daphne. “And she clearly has no wish to go with His Grace.”

  Daphne rested her fingertips on the duke’s coat sleeve. “Actually, a walk sounds pleasant so long as we are chaperoned.”

  “Which, thanks to Lord Greenwich, we are.” The duke gave Daphne a scandalous wink causing her already pink cheeks to go crimson.

  “I am always happy to help.” Bradford smirked. “Enjoy your stroll.”

  Natalie released a sigh as she watched Daphne and the duke take their leave. Once their footfalls faded down the hall she spun on Bradford. “I will not discuss the greenhouse with you.”

  “You would if you truly wished to keep Mother from finding out.”

  “You no account scoundrel. This is just like you.” She placed her hand on her hip.

  He laughed, vexing her further.

  “Out with it then.” She glared at him, knowing he had her trapped.

  “You are not as fun as you once were, Nat. Where has your stubborn resistance gone?” He lowered himself onto a chase.

  “What game do you play at?” She leaned toward him a fraction, challenging him.

  “Come sit. I have no wish to argue. On the contrary, I am concerned about your well-being.”

  Like he was concerned about her reputation last night? She would wager he’d only come to the greenhouse in order to protect Christian from the parson’s trap. This was no different, he had a motive all his own and it had nothing to do with her happiness. “You have no reason to fret over me.”

  “Do stop carrying on and come sit. My concern is genuine.”

  She reluctantly sank into a high-back chair across from him. “If this concern of yours has to do with Christian, there is no need.”

  “You are my sister and I love you despite our rivalries. I wish for nothing more than your happiness.” He reached across the space separating them to capture her hand. “Are you pleased with Father’s arrangement for you or simply resigned to the fate he has chosen for you?”

  She pulled her hand free. “What difference does it make? My duty is to the dukedom—to Father and Mother.”

  “Are you seeking to cause a scandal with Knightly in order to escape the betrothal?” He stared at her.

  She lowered her gaze to the floor, tracing the grains in the wooden boards. What was so bad about seeking to experience a little passion before allowing herself to be sold for the family’s gain? “You have a distorted view of my ambitions.”

  He remained silent until she met his gaze once more.

  “Are you quite certain? I do have eyes, as you are well aware, and they are in perfect condition.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “The way you look at Knightly speaks volumes.”

  Did she hope for more than a kiss? Of course, she wanted a future with Christian, but that did not mean she was seeking to sabotage her betrothal. She wasn’t—was she? “Do not concern yourself with the way I do or do not look at gentlemen.”

  “As your brother, I am compelled to make you understand that Knightly is not the marrying type. If you continue down this path, you will find yourself ruined. I assure you he will not step in to make an honorable lady of you.”

  “That is a fine way to speak about your longtime friend.”

  He leaned forward. “My sister is my first concern. Knightly would agree with my words and take no offense, I might add. He has no illusions about himself.”

  Natalie stood, then leveled a seething stare on Bradford. “Duly noted.”

  She turned and fled from the room, unwilling to discuss the matter further. She did not give a wit what her brother, parents, or anyone else for that matter, thought about Christian. She loved him—always had, and no betrothal would change that. Neither could Lady Pippa or Lord Maddox change her mind.

  Christian stepped toward the wall to get out of the way at the sight of Lady Natalie running down the corridor, her pink skirt clutched in her hand. What in Hades was she up to now? His curiosity got the better of him and he moved back into her path.

  She ran right into him nearly knocking them both to floor. He wrapped his arms around her to steadying them. She placed her arms around his shoulders and he pulled her close on instinct. “Bloody hell. What are you running for?” The emotion in her eyes gave him pause. She was clearly upset about something.

  Natalie wriggled out of his embrace but held onto his coat sleeve, dragging him through a nearby door.

  He took her by the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “What is afoot?”

  She moved his arms from her shoulders and pressed herself against him once more. Her breasts molded to his chest and she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss.

  His heartbeat kept rhythm with hers as he held her close, relishing the feel of her. He fought the sudden urge to deepen the kiss and pulled away.

  “Stop playing games. Kiss me like you did Pippa.” She stared deep into his eyes.

  He had never kissed Lady Pippa—never even considered it. Why was the minx determined not to believe him on the matter?

  “Christian,” she pleaded in a breathy whisper.

  The sound of his given name on her sweet lips undid him. He brought his mouth to hers, hungry with need. A soft moan floated from her mouth as she parted her luscious lips, granting him full access. He dipped his tongue into her honeyed sweetness as he pulled her closer—so close it was impossible to tell where he ended and she started.

  She wound her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, greedily accepting what he offered. Her lips molded to his as he slanted his mouth over hers again and again, sliding his tongue into her mouth to rub against hers. Her soft moans pushed him to the edge, threatening to topple him right over. When had he ever tasted something so sweet? Held something so tempting?

  He trailed kisses across her jaw to her throat, pausing to suck and nibble at the hollow beneath her ear where her pulse beat an untamed rhythm, matching his own.

  “It seems I chose the place and time after all,” she said.

  Her breathy voice encouraged him until the words she spoke broke through the trance she’d placed him under. The little hoyden had bested him once again. He pulled back and swallowed hard. His body thrummed with a need he could not indulge—leastwise not with Natalie. “Well played, my lady.”

  She reached for him but he retreated, unable to trust what he might do should she intimately press herself against him again. “You have collected your forfeit.”

  “I want you to kiss me again—not because you owe me, but because you want to.”

  The passion reflected in her eyes stirred him in a way nothing else had. He leaned forward, his lips brushing hers. What the hell was he doing? This was Greenwich’s sister. She was to be betrothed. He had no plans to marry her or anyone for that matter.

  She pushed closer, need coiling through him. He used all of his restraint to set her away from him. “There will be no more kissing between us.” God he wanted her. Desired to have all of her, not just her kisses. She was an innocent—his best
friend’s innocent sister. He could not allow himself to seduce her—or be seduced by her. He turned and hastily took his exit, seeking the much needed sanctuary of his bedchamber.

  Chapter 8

  “Lord Maddox should have arrived by now.” Father paced across the room between where Mother, Natalie, and Bradford stood by the fire. The Marquis and Marchioness of Bowmont stood by the floor to ceiling window in the family’s private parlor.

  The storm raged on the other side of the glass—but, surprisingly, her father was more worried over Maddox absence than the earls own parents were.

  Natalie secretly hoped the earl would never made an appearance. How could she marry him after what she and Christian had shared? His kiss seared her soul, imprinted on her in a way she would never forget. Somehow, someway, she had to get out of this betrothal. There was no possibility any man could make her heart race like Christian had—did, every time they were near.

  “I assure you, Your Grace, it is not at all like my son to forgo his responsibilities.” The Marquis smoothed his cravat, the nervous reflex telling Natalie all she needed to know about Maddox.

  Though they would not likely verbalize their fears, his parents were unsure he’d arrive at all. Did the earl know he was to be betrothed to her? Maybe he sought to avoid the union as well—if so, that would align them on the same path.

  The Marchioness snapped her fan closed. “Something has happened to keep him away.” She turned toward the window, her eyes belying her feigned concern. “I do hope the storm is not to blame.”

  Natalie closed her eyes and prayed it was not the storm to blame, for if it was, he would eventually arrive and she would have no recourse. Please, let his absence be intentional. If he did not wish for their union either, than there would be some hope of avoiding the betrothal.

  “Perhaps we should search for him?” Mother turned to Father, her earbobs catching the light from the fire and casting sparkles across the far wall.