Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  Lucas crossed his arm over his chest in promise. “I will give her nothing but love and cherish her every day. I know she will be happy to see you, when you’re ready.”

  Natalie was unsure when or how she would make her peace with Pippa and did not wish to contemplate it at present. “Maybe someday I will have the words to make my amends with Pippa, but for now, you are what is best for her.”

  “How can you know that?”

  She pondered Lord Maddox’s question for a second before answering. “She was genuinely hurt when she heard of our match. I have not seen such a betrayed look since it was I who wounded her. Now, you must go—before it is too late.”

  Natalie could not help but wonder if she had the same wounded look when she witnessed Pippa in Christian’s arms.

  Lucas gave her a quick bow. “Until we meet again, Lady Natalie. Do have faith that the right man will find you.”

  “And if he already has and walked away?” She blinked rapidly to hold back the tears.

  “Then believe he will right his course and return to you.”

  The tiny flicker of hope she clung to ignited at his words. Perhaps there remained some hope for her and Christian after all.

  Chapter 10

  Christian glanced around the crowded ball room for the millionth time. Where were the Duke and Duchess of Sheridan? Greenwich? Natalie? What in bloody hell was going on? He had not seen any of them for hours. Lady Daphne, along with Lady Gertrude, had taken the roll of hostess upon themselves. Neither offered any indication of why the family failed to arrive at their own ball.

  For all intents and purposes, everything seemed as it should. Ladies and gentlemen clad in silks and lace filled the room. Hundreds of candles flickered and the string quartet played elegant music as the most elite members of English society chatted and danced. The only thing wrong was the absence of the host family.

  “Have a drink. Scotch will take the edge off.” Kissinger shoved a tumbler of golden liquor into his hand.

  “I do not need to take the edge off.” Christian smoothed his cravat and glanced back at the entrance to the room. The quartet began a fresh set, leading with a reel. Pity this could not be Kissinger’s set with Lady Daphne.

  “I cannot stop you from fooling yourself, but neither can you fool me. You have been edgy ever since Lady Natalie won your forfeit and it has only grown worse.”

  Kissinger’s astute observation of Christian’s behavior vexed him. That was the trouble with close friends—one could not hide much from them. Rather than admit to anything, Christian raised his glass, taking a long drink. Perhaps the alcohol would ease his mind.

  “Where do you suppose Greenwich is hiding?” Christian asked before draining the remaining scotch in one gulp.

  The warmth from the liquor spread through his body. The scotch provided a much needed calming effect, though nothing could completely relax him. Natalie had his mind twisted in a way no woman ever had. He found himself concerned with her happiness and worried over what she believed of him. He’d spent his manhood as a proud rakehell, a great rogue. Why should he care now that one hellion thought she’d seen him trysting?

  He tried to remember that long ago night—he knew he hadn’t set up an assignation with Lady Pippa, but had there been another woman? It seemed every ball before and after Natalie’s come out rolled into one massive memory. Surely he was not with another woman that evening. An image sprung to mind—Natalie in a flowing white gown trimmed in lace and pearls. Her hair was in long curls, half-pinned up. He recalled the vision of her dancing like an angel—he’d been unable to look away all night.

  How did he manage to remember her so clearly while nothing stood out about the rest of the evening?

  “Last I knew, he had been ordered by the duke to wait for Lord Maddox’s arrival.” Kissinger nonchalantly pulled a flask of scotch from his coat and refilled both of their tumblers. Shaking the container in the space between them, he said, “Seems the time has come to retire to the gaming room.”

  Christian ignored his last comment, not at all concerned where his next drink would be. He searched his memory for the name, Maddox, but came up empty. Could he be Natalie’s intended? “Who is Lord Maddox?”

  “Lady Natalie’s intended. The Earl of Maddox, to be exact. Future heir to the Bowmont Marquisship.”

  The air left Christian’s lungs as though he’d been punched in the gut. “Do you know of this earl? I do not believe I have made his acquaintance.” What was wrong with him? Since when did he worry more about a woman—a proper lady—a proper marriageable lady—than his next drink?

  “I have heard his name from time-to-time around London. What is your interest?” Kissinger paused, studying him for a moment before continuing. “I’ve heard he is a temperate man, not fast to anger, but quick at cards—always a ladybird at his side.”

  Christian swirled the liquor in his glass. “Mere curiosity. Forget I asked.” His concern came from not knowing what was afoot—but neither did he actually want to know anything of the man. All would return to normal once Bradford and his family arrived. He took another sip of the scotch, not believing his own lie but unwilling to accept the alternative.

  Kissinger clapped him on the shoulder. “Ah, there is Greenwich. Let us collect him and go in search of more scotch.”

  Christian snapped his gaze up, searching. Greenwich strolled across the ballroom but Lady Natalie was not with him, nor were the Duke and Duchess of Sheridan. He released a pent up breath then made haste to reach Greenwich.

  The stuffy air in the room weighed on Christian, causing him to sweat. He made his way through the crush, sidestepping guests and potted ferns alike. His sole focus, reaching his friend’s side.

  “Greenwich,” he hollered. “Where are your parents and Lady Natalie? What is keeping them?”

  “Father insisted on searching for Lord Maddox. He was found at Lady Pippa’s and has since broken the betrothal.”

  Broken the betrothal? Lady Natalie was free from the obligation. Had Christian heard right? “She is not to marry?”

  “It seems not, as the earl has—”

  Kissinger approached, slapping Greenwich on the back. “We were on our way to the gaming room. Do join us.”

  “Correction, Kissinger was on his way. I will remain here for now.” Eventually, Natalie would show herself and he was determined to be nearby when she did.

  She may need a friend to lend her strength, a hero to rescue her from the ton’s scrutiny. The gossips had been speculating about the grand announcement for days, and though he doubted anyone outside of Somerset knew the details, they were all expecting a confirmation tonight.

  Kissinger raised his brows at Christian. “Things are deuced bad when you elect to remain in a ballroom. What in bloody hell am I not aware of?”

  Greenwich exchanged a quizzical glance with Christian. “I fear I cannot leave at this moment either.”

  “Pray, explain yourselves,” Kissinger demanded, before finishing the remaining scotch in his tumbler.

  “Father commanded me to remain here until he arrived. I would be much obliged if one of you would seek out some of that scotch for me.” Greenwich tilted his head toward Kissinger.

  “I out rank the both of you. One of you should do the fetching.” He gave Christian a playful shove. “I know not what your about, but surely it will prove entertaining. I am electing to remain as well.”

  Greenwich signaled a servant, ordering him to bring a decanter of scotch.

  “To the ballroom, my lord?” the servant asked, eyes wide. At Greenwich’s nod, the man scurried to collect their request.

  “It is a pity that society does not call for strong drink at balls. They would be far more entertaining if we were encouraged to get deep in our cups.” Kissinger chuckled.

  “Indeed.” Christian agreed, wishing he could get foxed— wishing he could wipe Natalie’s passion-filled eyes from his mind. But it was not to be. He had a score to settle with her, he reminded himse
lf. He would keep his wits intact in case the opportunity should arrive. He would turn the tide—rescue her—not from the betrothal, but from the scandal of a broken one—the way she had rescued him all those years ago.

  Chapter 11

  Natalie had roamed the house, peeking into all the places she believed Christian might be—the smoking room, gaming room, his guest chamber…only to locate him in the least likely of venues…the ballroom. She stood still, not at all sure what she should do now. In her imagination she found him alone or caught his attention and signaled for him to join her. His gentleman companions would be far to engrossed in gaming, drinking, or both to notice her presence.

  She could not simply wave him down now. Not in the midst of a crowded ballroom. Nor could she approach and request a private audience with him. The Duke of Kissinger would hear her and possibly several others who stood nearby. She nibbled her lower lip, contemplating. Christian was worth whatever risks she had to undertake, still there was no need to cause scandal with hasty actions. Christian was not a man to be forced into anything, especially a compromising situation that could end with the noose securely around his finger.

  Natalie looked from Christian to Bradford, an idea forming in her mind. Enlisting Bradford’s help was far from ideal. All the same, it remained her best option. For all she knew, Christian had revealed all to him. She fixed a smile on her lips and gracefully moved toward her brother and his friends, her head high as Mother had trained her.

  Her pulse escalated with each step but her expression remained schooled as she came to stand before the gentlemen. “Good evening.” She dipped into a curtsy.

  “Lovely of you to join us, Lady Natalie.” The Duke of Kissinger gave her a rakish grin. “Perhaps you will clue me in as to what has Greenwich and Knightly up in knots?”

  Christian elbowed the duke. “Mind your manners, Kissinger. You are in the presence of a lady.”

  Natalie laughed, pretending ignorance on the subject His Grace queried. She turned her smile on Bradford. “Might I steal you away for a moment?”

  A servant approached with a decanter, offering it to Bradford. Natalie paused to examine the golden liquid inside as the Duke of Kissinger snatched the decanter from the tray. Scotch. They were imbibing in strong drink right in the middle of her parents’ ball? She turned amused eyes on Bradford, giving a slight shake of her head.

  He chuckled, accepting a freshly-poured tumbler from the duke. “Do not judge us, dear sister.”

  “Shall I pour you a glass as well?” The duke asked, a slow grin forming on his lips.

  What a tempting offer. She had never indulged in anything stronger than wine. Mother would be amiss to discover her drinking liquor. Perhaps… “Thank you, Your Grace, I should rather like some scotch.”

  “The hell you will.” Christian stepped between her and the duke.

  Natalie sidestepped Christian and smiled. “I do believe I can make my own decisions.”

  “A woman with a mind of her own, how refreshing.” The Duke of Kissinger held his tumbler out to her.

  “Lady Natalie will not be drinking scotch despite her mind to.” Christian glared at His Grace.

  Bradford took hold of her arm, snatching it from mid-air. “Excuse us, gentlemen.”

  How dare Christian make her decision? What cause did he have to be angry? She strained to pay mind to their ongoing conversation as Bradford led her further away.

  “You are a terrible wastrel.” She heard Christian say behind her before both men broke out in laughter.

  “I learned from you,” the duke accused. “And what is your sudden interest in, Lady Natalie?”

  Their voices faded, becoming inaudible as Bradford continued to lead her away. Natalie should find their behavior offensive. The duke most certainly crossed the lines of propriety in the way he interacted with her. Her brother and Christian had equally tarnished reputations despite their advanced social manners. Somehow, their crude behavior had the opposite effect—it excited her.

  She glanced over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of the men as Bradford propelled her from the ballroom. “What is this about?” He hurried his steps. “Father will be harsh with us should he discover our absence from the ball.”

  “Are you afraid?” She shot him an amused smirk.

  “Of course not. I am quite fearless as you know.” He drew her to a stop inside of a private parlor.

  “I do detest asking you such a favor.” She blushed. “All the same, I require your aid.” She entwined her glove-covered fingers in front of her, lifting a silent plea for his agreement, and batted her lasses for good measure.

  “Aid in what endeavor?” he asked, his tone softer than usual, almost soothing.

  She shifted her feet before meeting his eyes. “Bring Christian to me.”

  “Is it Christian, now? What exactly transpired in that greenhouse?” He furrowed his brows.

  “For heaven’s sake, Bradford. As children we often used our given names. Nothing untoward occurred.” Leastwise not in the greenhouse. She took comfort in knowing she wasn’t lying. Her stomach filled with butterflies as thoughts of what happened during their next encounter came to mind. “I simply had a slip of the tongue.”

  “Hum.” He tilted his head a fraction, studying her. “I may require my own private conversation with Knightly.”

  She stepped closer to him. “Please, do be serious. We both know you are attempting to get a rise from me. Will you help or must I retrieve Lord Knightly myself?”

  That was not the approach she desired to utilize, however, she would if necessary. She owed it to herself to reveal her heart’s desire—possibly owed it to Christian, as well. There had been a connection between them. A spark of something deeper when they had kissed.

  To be honest, Natalie felt the draw to Christian years ago, while he still attended university and she still wore plaits.

  He may not be the marrying type—or his roguish ways might be the result of not yet having discovered the perfect lady to compliment him. A lady who valued and admired his spirit, rather than one who wished to trap him for the sake of calling him husband, gaining his title, and the prestige that would come with being the Marchioness of Knightly.

  If she sought to be a Marchioness, she could have just as easily married Maddox. Based on his father’s advanced age, he did not have more than a decade before he passed to the next world and Maddox inherited his title.

  Natalie only wanted to love Christian and have his love in return. His title mattered not to her nor did what he had to offer her family. The man, his charm, his touch, mattered to her. She had to declare her feelings, if not she would live with the unknowns and regret for the rest of her days. If he turned her away, so be it. At least she would know she did all she could. As Lord Maddox had said, it was not to be if Christian did not return to her. Her throat tightened and she silently pleaded with Bradford.

  He turned away, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Bradford,” she prodded. “If you never again do anything for me, do this.”

  He turned back to her, releasing a loud sigh. “Do not make me regret my actions. If ruin comes upon you, do not—”

  Natalie beamed a genuine smile. “Thank you. Now hurry before my nerve is lost.” She shooed him from the room with a wave of her hand.

  A sleek sheen of sweat dampened her brow. She dabbed at the moisture with her handkerchief, then began fanning herself. Christian would come through the door in a moment’s time. What would she do if he cast her aside?

  What would she do if he embraced her? Mother and Father did not approve of him—would never give consent for a match between them.

  The door opened a fraction and Christian slipped into the room.

  “I am pleased you came. There is something I must say to you.” She looked at the plush carpet she stood upon then back to him.

  “Natalie, I want you to know I never kissed, Lady Pippa. She—”

  “You need not continue. I believe you a
nd no longer care about the past.” She stepped closer to him. “Do accept my sincere apology.”

  “If this is not about, Lady Pippa, then what?” He held her stare.

  “Lord Maddox broke the betrothal.” She tried to read his blue eyes, but found nothing hiding in their depths. What was he thinking? She drew closer.

  “Greenwich informed me of the day’s events.” He did not retreat but neither did he advance toward her.

  She stilled within arm’s reach of him, her heart pounding—begging him to take her in his arms and hold her close. Kiss away all her doubts and uncertainties. “Your kiss woke something inside of me.” She ran her tongue across her lower lip. “For years I have fancied myself in love with you.”

  He continued to stare at her, his face void of any indication that he felt the same. The fingers on his left hand twitched slightly. Did they seek to reach for her? She must know.

  “If you do not want me, say so. I will go quietly and hold tight to the memory of our shared kiss for the remainder of my days.”

  “Dammit, Natalie.” He pulled her against him, his mouth finding hers.

  She wrapped her arms around him, holding tight as she matched his passion with all she had, relishing the feel of his hands on her back. A deep need coiled in her belly and she parted her lips, urging him to deepen the kiss.

  Father stormed into the room. “Unhand my daughter, you no good scoundrel,” his voice boomed.

  Christian released her and tried to step back but Natalie held tight. She’d not give him up now. Come what may, she would fight for him until everyone accepted that she belonged with him. There could be no turning back—no denying their shared connection. She would lay down all she had for him. He owned her heart and soul.

  Father stomped to where they stood, Christian with his arms at his sides, and Natalie with her hands twined in his coat. “Let go, Natalie. This instant!”